O Bacchus, for thy sake have I endured
Unnumbered toils, both at the present hour,
And when these nerves by vigorous youth were strung:
By Juno first with wild distraction fired,
Thou didst forsake the mountain nymphs whose care
Nurtured thy infancy. Next in that war
With the gigantic progeny of earth,
Stationed beside thee to sustain thy shield,
Piercing the buckler of Enceladus,
I slew him with my lance. Is this a dream?
By Jove it is not: for I showed his spoils
To Bacchus, and the labours I endure
At present, are so great that they exceed
E’en those. For since ’gainst thee Saturnia roused,
To bear thee far away, Etruria’s race
Of impious pirates, I soon caught th’ alarm,
And sailed in quest of thee with all my children:
Myself the stern ascended, to direct
The rudder, and each satyr plied an oar
Till ocean’s azure surface with white foam
Was covered; thee, O mighty King, they sought.
Near Malea’s harbour as the vessel rode,
An eastern blast arose, and to this rock
Of Ætna, drove us, where the sons of Neptune,
The one-eyed Cyclops, drenched with human gore,
Inhabit desert caves; by one of these
Were we made captives, and beneath his roof
To slavery are reduced. Our master’s name
Is Polypheme; instead of Bacchus’ orgies
We tend the flocks of an accursed Cyclops.
My blooming sons, on yonder distant cliffs,
Feed the young lambs; while I at home am stationed
The goblet to replenish, and to scrape
The rugged floor; to this unholy lord,
A minister of impious festivals:
And now must I perform the task assigned
Of cleansing with this rake the filthy ground,
So shall the cave be fit for his reception,
When with his flocks my absent lord returns.
But I already see my sons approach,
Their fleecy charge conducting. Ha! what means
This uproar? would ye now renew the dance
Of the Sicinnides, as when ye formed
The train of amorous Bacchus, and assembled,
Charmed by the lute, before Althæa’s gate?