And thus it came to pass.
Odysseus set out from Troy with twelve good ships. He touched first at
Ismarus, where his first misfortune took place, and in a skirmish with
the natives he lost a number of men from each ship's crew. A storm then
drove them to the land of the Lotus-Eaters, a wondrous people, kindly
and content, who spend their lives in a day-dream and care for nothing
else under the sun. No sooner had the sailors eaten of this magical
lotus than they lost all their wish to go home, or to see their wives
and children again. By main force, Odysseus drove them back to the
ships and saved them from the spell.
Thence they came one day to a beautiful strange island, a verdant place
to see, deep with soft grass and well watered with springs. Here they
ran the ships ashore, and took their rest and feasted for a day. But
Odysseus looked across to the mainland, where he saw flocks and herds,
and smoke going up softly from the homes of men; and he resolved to go
across and find out what manner of people lived there. Accordingly,
next morning, he took his own ship's company and they rowed across to
the mainland.
Now, fair as the place was, there dwelt in it a race of giants, the
Cyclopes, great rude creatures, having each but one eye, and that in
the middle of his forehead. One of them was Polyphemus, the son of
Poseidon. He lived by himself as a shepherd, and it was to his cave
that Odysseus came, by some evil chance.
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