655He had scarcely spoken, when on the top of the mountain we see the shepherd Polyphemus himself moving his vast bulk among his flocks and making for the familiar shore, a dreadful monster, misshapen, huge, robbed of his sight. 659A lopped pine-trunk in his hand guides him and steadies his steps; 660his woolly sheep go with him — that his only pleasure and comfort in his woe. 662When he had reached the deep water and come to the sea, he washed from it the oozing blood of his gouged eye, gnashing his teeth with a groan, and walks through the sea, now in mid-water, and still the waves have not wetted his towering sides.
666We, far off, in alarm hasten our flight from there, taking on board the suppliant who had so well deserved it, and silently cut the cable; 668and bending forward we churn the waters with rival oars. 669He sensed it, and turned his steps towards the sound of our voices; 670but when he is given no power to lay his hand on us, and cannot match the Ionian waves in pursuit, he raises an immense shout, at which the sea and all the waves trembled, and the land of Italy was terrified to its depths, and Etna bellowed in its winding caverns.