Cyclops by Phil Cummings


Thence we sailed on with aching hearts, and came to the land of the Cyclops, a rude and lawless folk, who, trusting to the immortal gods, plant with their hands no plant, nor ever plough.

“Cyclops, you asked my noble name, and I will tell it; but do you give the stranger’s gift, just as you promised. My name is No Man. No Man I am called by mother, father, and by all my comrades.”

We seized the fire-pointed stake and whirled it in his eye. Blood bubbled round the heated thing. The vapor singed off all the lids around the eye, and even the brows, as the ball burned and its roots crackled in the flame.

The Odyssey, Book IX