The setting sun was pouring his level rays through the chinks of the
doorway when they heard the ponderous tread of the Cyclops
approaching. This time he drove the whole of his flocks into the cave,
leaving the courtyard empty. Having milked the herd, he laid hands on
two of Odysseus' comrades, and slaughtered and devoured them as
before. The moment had now come for Odysseus to carry out his design.
So he filled a wooden bowl with unmixed wine, and drawing near to
Polyphemus addressed him thus:

"Take, Polyphemus, and drink of this wine, now that thou hast eaten of
human flesh. I warrant that thou hast never tasted such a choice
vintage as this, and I brought it as a gift to thy divinity, that thou
mightest have pity, and let me go in peace. Little did I dream to find
thee so cruel and so wild. Who in all the world will ever draw near to
thee again, after the hideous deeds which thou hast wrought?"

Polyphemus took the cup and drained it to the bottom. Then he rolled
his great eye with ecstasy, as the last drop trickled down his
monstrous gullet, and holding out the cup said with a sort of growling
good humour: "Give me to drink again, and make haste and tell me thy
name, that I may bestow on thee a gift of hospitality to gladden thy
heart. I and my brethren have wine in plenty, for the earth gives us
of her abundance, and the soft rain of heaven swells the grape to
ripeness; but this is a drink divine, fit for the banquets of
Olympus."

Again the cup was filled, and yet a third time; and Polyphemus drank
out every drop. Before long his great head began to droop, and his eye
blinked mistily, like the red sun looming through a fog. Seeing that