Book 13
dear father and his mother, but even more
750
to me, for he alone had won my love.
Eight birthdays having passed a second time,
his tender cheeks were marked with softest down.
“While I pursued him with a constant love,
the Cyclops followed me as constantly.
And, should you ask me, I could not declare
whether my hatred of him, or my love
of Acis was the stronger.—They were equal.
“O gentle Venus! what power equals yours!
That savage, dreaded by the forest trees,
feared by the stranger who beholds his face
contemner of Olympus and the gods,
now he can feel what love is. He is filled
with passion for me. He burns hot for me,
forgetful of his cattle and his caves.
“Now, Polyphemus, wretched Cyclops, you
are careful of appearance, and you try
the art of pleasing. You have even combed
your stiffened hair with rakes: it pleases you
to trim your shaggy beard with sickles, while
you gaze at your fierce features in a pool
so earnest to compose them. Love of flesh,
ferocity and your keen thirst for blood
have ceased. The ships may safely come and go!
“While all this happened, Telemus arrived
at the Sicilian Aetna—Telemus,
the son of Eurymus, who never could
mistake an omen, met the dreadful fierce,
huge Cyclops, Polyphemus, and he said,
‘That single eye now midmost in your brow
Ulysses will take from you.’ In reply,
the Cyclops only laughed at him and said,
‘Most silly of the prophets! you are wrong,
a maiden has already taken it!’
So he made fun of Telemus, who warned
him vainly of the truth—and after that,
he either burdened with his bulk the shore,
by stalking back and forth with lengthy strides,
or came back weary to his shaded cave.
