Page:The Iliad and Odyssey of Homer (IA iliadodysseyofho02home).pdf/210

202 Whose form was such, as should not much bespeak When he appear'd, our confidence or love. Then, kindling fire, we offer'd to the Gods, And of his cheeses eating, patient sat Till home he trudged from pasture. Charged he came With dry wood bundled, an enormous load Fuel by which to sup. Loud crash'd the thorns Which down he cast before the cavern's mouth, To whose interior nooks we trembling flew. At once he drove into his spacious cave His batten'd flock, all those which gave him milk, But all the males, both rams and goats, he left Abroad, excluded from the cavern-yard. Upheaving, next, a rocky barrier huge To his cave's mouth, he thrust it home. That weight Not all the oxen from its place had moved Of twenty and two wains; with such a rock Immense his den he closed. Then down he sat, And as he milk'd his ewes and bleating goats All in their turns, her yeanling gave to each; Coagulating, then, with brisk dispatch, The half of his new milk, he thrust the curd Into his wicker sieves, but stored the rest In pans and bowls—his customary drink. His labours thus perform'd, he kindled, last, His fuel, and discerning us, enquired, Who are ye, strangers? from what distant shore Roam ye the waters? traffic ye? or bound