Abstract

‘Come, live with me,’ says Polyphemus , ‘and leave the grey sea to beat upon the shore; my cave has all the heart could desire, laurels and cypresses, ivy and a sweet-fruited vine; a stream too fed by the snows of Etna.’ α δέ τοι ατς ν λασιώτερος ημεν, ντ δρυς ξύλα μοι π σποδ κάματον πρ καιόμενος δ π τες και τν ψυχν νεχοιμαν κα τν ν θαλμόν τ μοι γλυκερώτερον οδέν