“Dear ram,” he said, “pray tell me why you are the last of all to go forth from the cave. You are not wont to lag behind. Hitherto you have always been the first to pluck the tender blossoms of the pasture, and you have been the first to go back to the fold at evening. But now you are the very last. Can it be that you are sorrowing for your master’s eye which a wicked man blinded when he had overcome me with wine?
“Ah, if you could feel as I—if you could speak and tell me where he is hiding to shun my wrath—then I would smite him, and my heart would be lightened of the sorrows that he has brought upon me.”
Then he sent the ram from him; and when we had gone a little way from the cave I loosed myself from under the ram, and then set my fellows free. Swiftly we drove the flock before us, and often is turned to look about, till at last we came to the ship.
Our companions greeted us with glad hearts,—us who had fled from death; and they were about to bemoan the others with tears when I forbade. I told them to make haste and take on board the well-fleeced sheep, and then sail away from that unfriendly shore. So they did as they were bidden, and when all was ready, they sat upon the benches, each man in his place, and smote the gray sea water with their oars.
Ship in the Time of Homer.