the door of the slaughterhouse, my comrades forgot me
and so left me behind in the Cyclops’ enormous den. It
is a house of gore and bloody feasting, deep, and dark,
and huge; its master towers aloft, and strikes the stars
on high (ye gods, remove from the earth a plague like 5
this!), whom no eye rests on with pleasure, no tongue dare
accost. The flesh of wretched men and their black blood
are the food he feeds on. These eyes saw, when two
bodies from our company, caught by his huge hand, as
he threw back his head in the midst of the den, were 10