of the strait thou wilt see a second rock, lying
flat and low, about a bowshot from the first. There stands a great
fig-tree, thick with leaves, and under it sits Charybdis, sucking down
the water, and belching it up again three times a day. Beware that
thou approach not when she sucks down the water, for then none could
save thee from destruction, no, not Poseidon himself. Rather steer thy
galley past Scylla's cave, for it is better to lose six of thy men
than to lose them all.

"Next thou shalt come to the island of Thrinacia, where graze the oxen
of Helios and his goodly sheep--seven herds of oxen, and as many fair
flocks of sheep, and fifty in each flock and herd. They are not born,
neither do they die, and two goddesses have charge of them,
fair-haired nymphs, the daughters of Helios. Take heed that thou harm
not the sacred beasts, that it may be well with thee, and that thou
and thy company may come safely home."

II

Once more they were afloat, and the brave little vessel bounded gaily
over the waves, her canvas bellying in the wind. For some hours they
sailed on thus, and Odysseus recited to his men all that he had heard
from Circe. Then suddenly the wind dropped, and the sail hung idly to
the mast. Having furled and stowed the sail, they took to their oars,
while the sea went down, and at last sunk to a level calm. In the
distance a low-lying coast appeared, which Odysseus knew to be the
island of the Sirens, Forthwith he began to make his preparations to
meet the danger which lay before them. Taking a ball of wax he cut it
into small pieces, and having worked each piece in his hand until it
was soft and plastic he carefully stopped the ears of all his men with
the wax. Then two of the crew, to whom he had already given his
orders, bound him hand and foot to the mast of the vessel. All being
ready, they rowed forward until they came within full view of the
island. And there, in a low-lying meadow hard by the sea, sat the
Sirens; lovely they were of aspect, and gracious of mien; but all
around them were piled the bones of men who had fallen victims to
their wicked wit,[1] fleshless ribs, from which the skin still hung in
yellow shreds, and grinning skulls, gazing with eyeless sockets at the
sea.

[Footnote 1: Shakespeare, "Hamlet."]

As the ship drew near, the whole choir lifted up their voices and
began to sing a sweet and piercing strain, which thrilled the very
marrow of Odysseus as he listened. The wi