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"What hurts thee, Polypheme? what strange
Thus breaks our slumbers, and disturbs the night? Does any mortal in the' unguarded hour
Of sleep oppress thee, or by fraud or power?
'Joy touch'd my secret soul and conscious heart, Pleased with the' effect of conduct and of art. Meantime the Cyclop, raging with his wound, Spreads his wide arms, and searches round and round:
At last, the stone removing from the gate,
Strong were the rams, with native purple fair, Well fed, and largest of the fleecy care. These three and three, with osier bands we tied (The twining bands the Cyclops' bed supplied); The midmost bore a man; the outward two Secured each side: so bound we all the crew.
One ram remain'd, the leader of the flock;
The master ram at last approach'd the gate,
His batter'd brains should on the pavement smoke. No ease, no pleasure my sad heart receives, While such a monster as vile Noman lives."