monster Cyclops, and stalk over the tall mountains. It
is now the third moon, whose horns are filling out with
light, that I am dragging along my life in the woods;
among the lonely lairs where wild beasts dwell, and looking
forth on the huge Cyclops as they stalk from rock to 35
rock, and trembling at their tread and at the sound of
their voices. My wretched fare, berries and stony cornels,
is supplied by the boughs, and herbage uprooted yields
me food. As I turned my eyes all about, this fleet of