Classic Poem

In meantime flew our ships, and straight we fetch'd
The Sirens' isle; a spleenless wind so stretch'd
Her wings to waft us, and so urged our keel,
But having reach'd this isle, we could not feel
The least gasp of it, it was stricken dead,
And all the sea in prostrate slumber spread,
The Sirens' devil charm'd all. Up then flew
My friends to work, struck sail, together drew,
And under hatches stow'd them, sat, and plied
The polished oars, and did in curls divide
The white head waters. My part then came on:
A mighty waxen cake I set upon,
Chopp'd it in fragments with my sword and wrought
With strong hand every piece, till all were soft.
The great power of the sun in such a beam
As then flew burning from his diadem,
To liquefaction helped us. Orderly
I stopp'd their ears; and they as fair did ply
My feet and hands with cords, and to the mast
With other hawsers made me soundly fast.
Then took they seat, and forth our passage strook,
The foamy sea beneath their labour shook.
Row'd on, in reach of an erected voice,
The Sirens soon took note, without our noise,
Tuned those sweet accents that made charms so strong,
And these learn'd numbers made the Sirens' song:
Come here, thou worthy of a world of praise
That dost so high the Grecian glory raise,
Ulysses! stay thy ship, and that song hear
That none past ever but it bent his ear,
But left him ravish'd, and instructed more
By us, than any ever heard before,
For we know all things whatsoever were
In wide Troy labour'd; whatsoever there
The Grecians and the Trojans both sustain'd
By those high issues that the Gods ordain'd.
And whatsoever all the earth can show
T' inform a knowledge of desert, we know.
This they gave accent in the sweetest strain
That ever open'd an enamour'd vein.