Polyphemus was a giant, man-eating Cyclops who featured prominently in Homer's Odyssey.
Son of Poseidon and the nymph Thoosa, he was part of a race of brutal, uncivilized beings who dwelled in remote regions of Sicily.
Depicted as a hulking, one-eyed monstrosity, Polyphemus lived with his fellow Cyclopes in a cave atop a mountain, spending his days tending sheep while devouring any unlucky humans who strayed across his path.
When Odysseus and his men took shelter in his lair, Polyphemus memorably trapped them inside before the hero blinded him with a sharpened olive wood stake.
Despite his terrifying strength and stature, the Cyclops ultimately proved no match for Odysseus' cunning resourcefulness.
Polyphemus embodied the primitive, gluttonous savagery that constantly imperiled the wandering Greek hero.

Excerpt from Homer's Odyssey, Book 12

DIFFICULT CHOICES

We looked across the narrow strip of water at the Cyclopic island, saw their smoke, and heard the baaing of their sheep and goats. The sun went down and in the hours of darkness we lay and slept on shore beside the sea. But when the rosy hands of Dawn appeared, I called my men together and addressed them.

‘My loyal friends! Stay here, the rest of you, while with my boat and crew I go to check who those men are, find out if they are wild, lawless aggressors, or the type to welcome strangers, and fear the gods.'

With that, I climbed on board and told my crew to come with me and then untie the cables of the ship. Quickly they did so, sat along the benches, and struck the whitening water with their oars.
The journey was not long. Upon arrival, right at the edge of land, beside the sea, We saw a high cave overhung with laurel, the home of several herds of sheep and goats. Around that cave was built a lofty courtyard, of deep-set stones, with tall pines rising up, and leafy oaks. There lived a massive man who shepherded his flocks all by himself. He did not go to visit other people, but kept apart, and did not know the ways of custom. In his build he was a wonder, a giant, not like men who live on bread, but like a wooded peak in airy mountains, rising alone above the rest.

I told my loyal crew to guard the ship, while I would go with just twelve chosen men, my favorites. I took a goatskin full of dark sweet wine that I was given by Apollo's priest, Maron the son of Euanthes, who lived inside the shady grove on Ismarus. In reverence to the god, I came to help him, and save his wife and son. He gave me gifts: a silver bowl and seven pounds of gold, well wrought, and siphoned off some sweet strong wine, and filled twelve jars for me--a godlike drink. The slaves knew nothing of this wine; it was known just to him, his wife, and one house girl. Whenever he was drinking it, he poured a single shot into a cup, and added twenty of water, and a marvelous smell rose from the bowl, and all would long to taste it. I filled a big skin up with it, and packed provisions in a bag--my heart suspected that I might meet a man of courage, wild, and lacking knowledge of the normal customs.

We soon were at the cave, but did not find the Cyclops; he was pasturing his flocks.
We went inside and looked at everything. We saw his crates weighed down with cheese, and pens crammed full of lambs divided up by age: the newborns, middlings, and those just weaned. There were well-crafted bowls and pails for milking, all full of whey.

My crew begged, 'Let us grab some cheese and quickly drive the kids and lambs out of their pens and down to our swift ships, and sail away across the salty water!'

That would have been the better choice. But I refused. I hoped to see him, and find out if he would give us gifts. In fact he brought no joy to my companions. Then we lit a fire, and made a sacrifice, and ate some cheese, and sat to wait inside the cave until he brought his flocks back home. He came at dinnertime, and brought a load of wood to make a fire. He hurled it noisily into the cave. We were afraid, and cowered towards the back. He drove his ewes and nannies inside to milk them, but he left the rams and he-goats in the spacious yard outside.
He lifted up the heavy stone and set it to block the entrance of the cave. It was a rock so huge and massive, twenty-two strong carts could not have dragged it from the threshold. He sat, and all in order milked his ewes and she-goats, then he set the lambs to suck beside each bleating mother. Then he curdled half of the fresh white milk, set that aside in wicker baskets, and the rest he stored in pails so he could drink it with his dinner.
When he had carefully performed his chores, he lit a fire, then looked around and saw us.

'Strangers! Who are you? Where did you come from across the watery depths? Are you on business, or roaming round without a goal, like pirates, who risk their lives at sea to bring disaster to other people?' So he spoke. His voice, so deep and booming, and his giant size, made our hearts sink in terror. Even so, I answered,

'We are Greeks, come here from Troy.
The winds have swept us off in all directions across the vast expanse of sea, off course from our planned route back home. Zeus willed it so.
We are proud to be the men of Agamemnon, the son of Atreus, whose fame is greatest under the sky, for sacking that vast city and killing many people. Now we beg you, here at your knees, to grant a gift, as is the norm for hosts and guests. Please sir, my lord: respect the gods. We are your suppliants, and Zeus is on our side, since he takes care of visitors, guest-friends, and those in need.'

Unmoved he said, 'Well, foreigner, you are a fool, or from some very distant country.
You order me to fear the gods! My people think nothing of that Zeus with his big scepter, nor any god; our strength is more than theirs. If I spare you or spare your friends, it will not be out of fear of Zeus. I do the bidding of my own heart. But are you going far in that fine ship of yours, or somewhere near?'

He spoke to test me, but I saw right through him. I know how these things work. I answered him deceitfully.

'Poseidon, the Earth-Shaker, shipwrecked me at the far end of your island. He pushed us in; wind dashed us on the rocks. We barely managed to survive.'

But he made no reply and showed no mercy. Leaping up high, he reached his hands towards my men, seized two, and knocked them hard against the ground like puppies, and the floor was wet with brains. He ripped them limb by limb to make his meal, then ate them like a lion on the mountains, devouring flesh, entrails, and marrow bones, and leaving nothing. Watching this disaster, we wept and lifted up our hands in prayer to Zeus. We felt so helpless. When the Cyclops had filled his massive belly with his meal of human meat and unmixed milk, he lay stretched out among his flocks. Then thinking like a military man, I thought I should get out my sword, go up to him and thrust right through his torso, feeling for his liver. That would have doomed us all. On second thoughts, I realized we were too weak to move the mighty stone he set in the high doorway. So we stayed there in misery till dawn.
Early the Dawn appeared, pink fingers blooming, and then he lit his fire and milked his ewes in turn, and set a lamb by every one. When he had diligently done his chores, he grabbed two men and made a meal of them. After he ate, he drove his fat flock out. He rolled the boulder out and back with ease, as one would set the lid upon a quiver. Then whistling merrily, the Cyclops drove his fat flocks to the mountain. I was left, scheming to take revenge on him and hurt him, and gain the glory, if Athena let me. I made my plan. Beside the pen there stood a great big club, green olive wood, which he had cut to dry, to be his walking stick. It was so massive that it looked to us like a ship's mast, a twenty-oared black freighter that sails across the vast sea full of cargo. I went and cut from it about a fathom, and gave it to the men, and ordered them to scrape it down. They made it smooth and I stood by and sharpened up the tip, and made it hard in the blazing flame. The cave was full of dung; I hid the club beneath a pile. Then I gave orders that the men cast lots for who would lift the stake with me and press it into his eye, when sweet sleep overtook him. The lots fell on the men I would have chosen: four men, and I was fifth among their number.

At evening he drove back his woolly flocks into the spacious cave, both male and female, and left none in the yard outside--perhaps suspecting something, or perhaps a god told him to do it. He picked up and placed the stone to form a door, and sat to milk the sheep and bleating goats in turn, then put the little ones to suck. His chores were done; he grabbed two men for dinner. I approached and offered him a cup of ivy wood, filled full of wine. I said,

'Here, Cyclops! You have eaten human meat; now drink some wine, sample the merchandise our ship contains. I brought it as a holy offering, so you might pity me and send me home. But you are in a cruel rage, beyond what anyone could bear. Do you expect more guests, when you have treated us so rudely?’ He took and drank the sweet delicious wine; he loved it, and demanded more.'Another!’

‘And now tell me your name, so I can give you a present as my guest, one you will like.
My people do have wine; grape clusters grow from our rich earth, fed well by rain from Zeus.
But this is nectar, god food!'

So I gave him another cup of wine, and then two more. He drank them all, unwisely. With the wine gone to his head, I told him, all politeness,
'Cyclops, you asked my name. I will reveal it; then you must give the gift you promised me, of hospitality. My name is Noman. My family and friends all call me Noman!'

He answered with no pity in his heart,
'I will eat Noman last; first I will eat the other men. That is my gift to you!

Then he collapsed, fell on his back, and lay there, his massive neck askew. All-conquering sleep took him. In drunken heaviness, he spewed wine from his throat, and chunks of human flesh. And then I drove the spear into the embers to heat it up, and told my men, 'Be brave!' I wanted none of them to shrink in fear. The fire soon had seized the olive spear, green though it was, and terribly it glowed. I quickly snatched it from the fire. My crew stood firm: some god was breathing courage in us. They took the olive spear, its tip all sharp, and shoved it in his eye. I leaned on top and twisted it, as when a man drills wood for shipbuilding. Below, the workers spin the drill with straps, stretched out from either end. So round and round it goes, and so we whirled the fire-sharp weapon in his eye. His blood poured out around the stake, and blazing fire sizzled his lids and brows, and fried the roots. As when a blacksmith dips an axe or adze to temper it in ice-cold water; loudly it shrieks. From this, the iron takes on its power. So did his eyeball crackle on the spear.
Horribly then he howled, the rocks resounded, and we shrank back in fear. He tugged the spear out of his eye, all soaked with gushing blood. Desperately with both hands he hurled it from him, and shouted to the Cyclopes who lived in caves high up on windy cliffs around. They heard and came from every side, and stood near to the cave, and called out,

'Polyphemus! What is the matter? Are you badly hurt? Why are you screaming through the holy night and keeping us awake? Is someone stealing your herds, or trying to kill you, by some trick or force?’

Strong Polyphemus from inside replied, My friends! Noman is killing me by tricks, not force.'
Their words flew back to him: ‘If no one hurts you, you are all alone: Great Zeus has made you sick; no help for that. pray to your father, mighty Lord Poseidon: then off they went, and I laughed to myself, at how my name, the 'no man' maneuver, tricked him.

The Cyclops groaned and labored in his pain, felt with blind hands and took the door-stone out, and sat there at the entrance, arms outstretched, to catch whoever went out with the sheep. Maybe he thought I was a total fool. But I was strategizing, hatching plans, so that my men and I could all survive. I wove all kinds of wiles and cunning schemes; danger was near and it was life or death.

The best idea I formed was this: there were those well-fed sturdy rams with good thick fleece, wool as dark as violets-all fine big creatures. So silently I tied them with the rope used by the giant Cyclops as a bed. I bound the rams in sets of three and set a man beneath each middle sheep, with one on either side, and so my men were saved. One ram was best of all the flock; I grabbed his back and curled myself up underneath his furry belly, clinging to his fleece; by force of will I kept on hanging there.
And then we waited miserably for day.
When early Dawn revealed her rose-red hands, the rams jumped up, all eager for the grass.
The ewes were bleating in their pens, unmilked. their udders full to bursting. Though their master was weak and worn with pain, he felt the back of each ram as he lined them up- -but missed the men tied up beneath their woolly bellies. Last of them all, the big ram went outside, heavy with wool and me the clever trickster.
Strong Polyphemus stroked his back and asked him,
'Sweet ram, why are you last today to leave the cave? You are not normally so slow.
You are the first to eat the tender flowers, leaping across the meadow, first to drink, and first to want to go back to the sheepfold at evening time. But now you are the last.
You grieve for Master's eye; that wicked man, helped by his nasty henchmen, got me drunk and blinded me. Noman will not escape!
If only you could talk like me, and tell me where he is skulking in his fear of me.
Then I would dash his brains out on the rocks, and make them spatter all across the cave, to ease the pain that no-good Noman brought.'
With that, he nudged the ram away outside.
We rode a short way from the cave, then I first freed myself and then untied my men.
We stole his nice fat animals, and ran, constantly glancing all around and back until we reached the ship. The other men were glad to see us, their surviving friends, but wept for those who died. I ordered them to stop their crying, scowling hard at each.
I made them shove the fleecy flock on board, and row the boat out into salty water.

So they embarked, sat on their rowing benches, and struck their oar blades in the whitening sea. When I had gone as far as shouts can carry, I jeered back, 'Hey, you, Cyclops! Idiot! The crew trapped in your cave did not belong to some poor weakling. Well, you had it coming! You had no shame at eating your own guests! So Zeus and other gods have paid you back.’

My taunting made him angrier. He ripped a rock out of the hill and hurled it at us.
It landed right in front of our dark prow, and almost crushed the tip of the steering oar.
The stone sank in the water; waves surged up. The backflow all at once propelled the ship landwards; the swollen water pushed us with it. I grabbed a big long pole, and shoved us off.
I told my men, 'Row fast, to save your lives!' and gestured with my head to make them hurry.
They bent down to their oars and started rowing.
We got out twice as far across the sea, and then I called to him again. My crew begged me to stop, and pleaded with me.

'Please! Calm down! Why are you being so insistent and taunting this wild man? He hurled that stone and drove our ship right back to land. We thought that we were going to die. If he had heard us, he would have hurled a jagged rock and crushed our heads and wooden ship. He throws so hard!’

But my tough heart was not convinced; I was still furious, and shouted back again,
'Cyclops! If any mortal asks you how your eye was mutilated and made blind, say that Odysseus, the city-sacker, Laertes' son, who lives in Ithaca, destroyed your sight.'

He groaned, "The prophecy! It has come true at last! There was a tall and handsome man named Telemus, the son of Eurymus, who lived among my people; he spent his life here, soothsaying for us. He told me that Odysseus' hands would make me lose my sight. I always thought somebody tall and handsome, strong and brave would come to me. But now this little weakling, this little nobody, has blinded me; by wine he got the best of me. Come on, Odysseus, and let me give you gifts, and ask Poseidon's help to get you home.
I am his son; the god is proud to be my father. He will heal me, if he wants, though no one else, not god nor man, can do it.’
After he said these words, I answered him,
'If only I could steal your life from you, and send you down to Hades' house below, sure as nobody will ever heal you, even the god of earthquakes.’
But he prayed holding his arms towards the starry sky, ‘Listen, Earth-Shaker, Blue-Haired Lord Poseidon: acknowledge me your son, and be my father. Grant that Odysseus, the city-sacker, will never go back home. Or if it is fated that he will see his family, then let him get there late and with no honor, in pain and lacking ships, and having caused the death of all his men, and let him find more trouble in his own house.'

Blue Poseidon granted his son's prayer. Polyphemus raised a rock far bigger than the last, and swung, then hurled it with immeasurable force.
It fell a little short, beside our rudder, and splashed into the sea; the waves surged up, and pushed the boat ahead, to the other shore. We reached the island where our ships were docked. The men were sitting waiting for us, weeping. We beached our ship and disembarked, then took the sheep that we had stolen from the Cyclops out of the ship's hold, and we shared them out fairly, so all the men got equal portions. But in dividing up the flock, my crew gave me alone the ram, the Cyclops' favorite.
There on the shore, I slaughtered him for Zeus, the son of Cronus, god of Dark Clouds, Lord of all the world. I burned the thighs. The god ignored my offering and planned to ruin all of my ships and all my loyal men. So all day long till sunset we were sitting, feasting on meat and drinking sweet strong wine. But when the sun went down and darkness fell, we went to sleep beside the breaking waves. Then when rose-fingered Dawn came, bright and early, I roused my men and told them to embark and loose the cables. Quickly they obeyed, sat at their rowing benches, all in order, and struck the gray saltwater with their oars. So we sailed on, with sorrow in our hearts, glad to survive, but grieving for our friends."