Page:Thirty poems (IA thirtypoems00bryarich).pdf/185

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FIFTH BOOK OF HOMER'S ODYSSEY.
179
And smote him once again, and flung him farSeaward. As to the claws of polypus,Plucked from its bed, the pebbles thickly cling,So flakes of skin, from off his powerful hands,Were left upon the rock. The mighty surgeO'erwhelmed him; he had perished ere his time,Hapless Ulysses, but the blue-eyed maidPallas, informed his mind with wisdom. StraightEmerging from the wave that shoreward rolled,He swam along the coast and eyed it well,In hope of sloping beach or sheltered creek.But when, in swimming, he had reached the mouthOf a soft-flowing river, here appearedThe spot he wished for, smooth, without a rock,And here was shelter from the wind. He feltThe current's flow, and thus devoutly prayed: "Hear me, oh sovereign power, whoe'er thou art!
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