Here my comrades, when running away from the grim gateway, thoughtlessly left me in the Cyclops’ vast cave.

It is a house of gore and bloodstained feasts, dark and huge within. The master, gigantic, strikes the stars on high – O gods, take such a pest away from earth! – in aspect forbidding, in speech to be accosted by none. He feeds on the flesh of wretched men and their dark blood. I myself saw when he seized in his huge hand two of our company and, as he lounged in the midst of the cave, smashed them on the rock, and the spattered courts swam with gore; I watched while he devoured their limbs, all dripping with black blood-clots, and the warm joints quivered beneath his teeth. But not unpunished! Ulysses did not stand for this, nor did the man of Ithaca forget who he was at this dreadful time.