sufferings he never had beheld a sight so full of miseries.

Escaped from Scylla and Charybdis, but with a diminished crew, Ulysses and
the sad remains of his followers reached the Trinacrian shore. Here
landing, he beheld oxen grazing of such surpassing size and beauty that,
both from them and from the shape of the Island (having three promontories
jutting into the sea), he judged rightly that he was come to the
Triangular island and the oxen of the Sun, of which Tiresias had
forewarned him.

So great was his terror lest through his own fault, or that of his men,
any violence or profanation should be offered to the holy oxen, that even
then, tired as they were with the perils and fatigues of the day past, and
unable to stir an oar, or use any exertion, and though night was fast
coming on, he would have had them re-embark immediately, and make the best
of their way from that dangerous station; but his men with one voice
resolutely opposed it, and even the too cautious Eurylochus himself
withstood the proposal; so much did the temptation of a little ease and
refreshment (ease tenfold sweet after such labours) prevail over the
sagest counsels, and the apprehension of certain evil outweigh the
prospect of contingent danger. They expostulated that the nerves of
Ulysses seemed to be made of steel, and his limbs not liable to lassitude
like other men's; that waking or sleeping seemed indifferent to him; but
that they were men, not gods, and felt the common appetites for food and
sleep. That in the night-time all the winds most destructive to ships are
generated. That black night still required to be served with meat, and
sleep, and quiet havens, and ease. That the best sacrifice to the sea was
in the morning. With such sailor-like sayings and mutinous arguments,
which the majority have always ready to justify disobedience to their
betters, they forced Ulysses to comply with their requisition, and against