Sisyphus

 

                                                                                  Homer’s Odyssey

                                                                     Translated by George Chapman

                                                                                 Book 11.807-818

'There saw I Sisyphus in infinite none, With both hands heaving up a massie stone, And on his tip-top racking all his height To wrest up to a mountain top his freight: When prest to rest it there (his nerves quiet spent) Downe rusht the deadly Quarrie, the event Of all his torture new to raise againe: To which strait set his never-rested paine. The sweate came gushing out from every Pore, And on his head a standing mist he wore, Reeking from thence as if a cloud of dust Were raisd about it
‘There saw I Sisyphus  in  infinite mone,
With both hands heaving up a massie stone,
And on his tip-top racking all his height
To wrest up to a mountaine top his freight:
When prest to rest it there (his nerves quiet spent)
Downe rusht the deadly Quarrie, the event
Of all his torture new to raise againe:
To which strait set his never-rested paine.
The sweate came gushing out from every Pore,
And on his head a standing mist he wore,
Reeking from thence as if a cloud of dust
Were raisd about it

 

Ovid- Metamorphoses: Book 10.44

sisyphus resting

Sisyphus Resting

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