LVII.
And this it was the cruel usage bred;
That of the damsels held most fair of face,
To Proteus every day should one be led,
Till one should in the Godhead’s sight find grace.
The first and all those others slain, who fed,
All a devouring ore, that kept his place
Beside the port, what time into the main
The remnant of the herd retired again.
LVIII.
Were the old tale of Proteus’ false or true,
(For this, in sooth, I know not who can read)
With such a clause was kept by that foul crew
The savage, ancient statute, which decreed
That woman’s flesh the ravening monster, who
For this came every day to land, should feed.
Though to be woman is a crying ill
In every place, ’tis here a greater still.
LIX.
O wretched maids! whom ’mid that barbarous rout
Ill-fortune on that wretched shore has tost!
Who for the stranger damsel prowl about,
Of her to make an impious holocaust[8];
In that the more they slaughter from without,
They less the number of their own exhaust.
But since not always wind and wave convey
Like plunder, upon every strand they prey.
