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Book XII. Who with such force had caution'd me to avoid The island of the Sun, joy of mankind. Thus then to my companions, sad, I spake. Hear ye, my friends! although long time distress'd, The words prophetic of the Theban seer And of Ææan Circe, whose advice Was oft repeated to me to avoid This island of the Sun, joy of mankind. There, said the Goddess, dread your heaviest woes, Pass the isle, therefore, scudding swift away. I ceased; they me with consternation heard, And harshly thus Eurylochus replied. Ulysses, ruthless Chief! no toils impair Thy strength, of senseless iron thou art form'd, Who thy companions weary and o'erwatch'd Forbidd'st to disembark on this fair isle, Where now, at last, we might with ease regale. Thou, rash, command'st us, leaving it afar, To roam all night the Ocean's dreary waste; But winds to ships injurious spring by night, And how shall we escape a dreadful death If, chance, a sudden gust from South arise Or stormy West, that dash in pieces oft The vessel, even in the Gods' despight? Prepare we rather now, as night enjoins, Our evening fare beside the sable bark, In which at peep of day we may again Launch forth secure into the boundless flood.