"When we reached our black ship
We hauled her onto the bright saltwater,
Set up the mast and sail, loaded on
The sheep, and boarded her ourselves,
Heartsick and weeping openly by now.
5The dark prow cut through the waves And a following wind bellied the canvas,
A good sailing breeze sent by Circe,
The dread goddess with a human voice.
We lashed everything down and sat tight,
10Leaving the ship to the wind and helmsman. All day long she surged on with taut sail;
Then the sun set, and the sea grew dark.
The ship took us to the deep, outermost Ocean
And the land of the Cimmerians, a people
15Shrouded in mist. The sun never shines there, Never climbs the starry sky to beam down at them,
Nor bathes them in the glow of its last golden rays;
Their wretched sky is always racked with night's gloom.
We beached our ship there, unloaded the sheep,
20And went along the stream of Ocean Until we came to the place spoken of by Circe.
There Perimedes and Eurylochus held the victims
While I dug an ell-square pit with my sword,
And poured libation to all the dead,
25First with milk and honey, then with sweet wine, And a third time with water. Then I sprinkled