Fierce at our heads his deadly bolt he aims,

Red with uncommon wrath, and wrapp'd in flames:

Full on the bark it fell; now high, now low,

Toss'd and retoss'd, it reel'd beneath the blow;

At once into the main the crew it shook:

Sulphurous odours rose, and smouldering smoke.

Like fowl that haunt the floods, they sink, they rise,

Now lost, now seen, with shrieks and dreadful cries;

And strive to gain the bark, but Jove denies.

Firm at the helm I stand, when fierce the main

Rush'd with dire noise, and dash'd the sides in twain;

Again impetuous drove the furious blast,

Snapp'd the strong helm, and bore to sea the mast.

Firm to the mast with cords the helm I bind,

And ride aloft, to Providence resign'd,

Through tumbling billows and a war of wind.

Now sunk the west, and now a southern breeze,

More dreadful than the tempest lash'd the seas;

For on the rocks it bore where Scylla raves,

And dire Charybdis rolls her thundering waves.

All night I drove; and at the dawn of day,

Fast by the rocks beheld the desperate way;

Just when the sea within her gulfs subsides,

And in the roaring whirlpools rush the tides,

Swift from the float I vaulted with a bound,

The lofty fig-tree seized, and clung around;

325

The Odyssey of Homer