Mastiffs, as austere
As savage beasts, lay ever, their fierce strain
Bred by the herdsman, a mere prince of men,
Their number four. ...
The fate-born-dogs-to-bark took sudden view
Of Odysseus, and upon him flew
With open mouth. He, cunning to appal
A fierce dog's fury, from his hand let fall
His staff to earth, and sat him careless down.
And yet to him had one foul wrong been shown
Where most his right lay, had not instantly
The herdsman let his hide fall, and his cry
(With frequent stones flung at the dogs) repelled
This way and that their eager course they held;
When through the entry port, he thus did mourn:
" O father! how soon had you near been torn
By these rude dogs, whose hurt had branded me
With much neglect of you!"