"At sea once more we had to pass the Sirens, whose sweet singing lures sailors to their doom. I had stopped up the ears of my crew with wax, and I alone listened while lashed to the mast, powerless to steer toward shipwreck.
Next came Charybdis, who swallows the sea in a whirlpool, then spits it up again. Avoiding this we skirted the cliff where Scylla exacts her toll. Each of her six slavering maws grabbed a sailor and wolfed him down.
Finally we were becalmed on the island of the Sun. My men disregarded all warnings and sacrificed his cattle, so back at sea Zeus sent a thunderbolt that smashed the ship. I alone survived, washing up on the island of Calypso."
Oddessy, book 12
Poseidon notices what is afoot.
"So, my fellow gods have taken pity on Odysseus. If Zeus wills it, then he's headed home. But not before I give him a voyage to remember."
Taking his trident in both hands, Poseidon stirs the sea into a fury and lashes up rain and squall. Mast and sail are torn away, Odysseus is thrown overboard and buried under a wall of water. When he emerges gasping and sputtering, he somehow manages to clamber back aboard.
A goddess, Leucothea, appears to him in the form of a bird. She counsels him to swim for it. "Take my veil, tie it around your waist as a charm against drowning. When you reach shore, be sure to throw it back into the sea."
Odysseus doubts. Surely it is safer to keep to the boat. But Poseidon soon solves his dilemma by smashing it to bits. Satisfied, the Sea God drives off in his chariot. Odysseus swims and drifts for two days, until he hears surf breaking on a rockbound coast.
A strong wave bears him in, straight onto the rocks. Desperately he clings to a ledge, until torn off by the undertow. He has the presence of mind to swim back out to sea. It is then he sees a break in the reefs, the mouth of a river just up the coast. He prays to the deity of this stream to take him in. And the god has mercy on him.
Battered and half-drowned as he is, he remembers to throw the veil back to Leucothea. Then he staggers to the bank and falls face down in the mud. Still he can't rest, for he knows that river air grows deathly cold at night and anywhere he'll be easy prey to beasts.
Then he finds a clump of olive trees, so thickly tangled as to make a cage. And, drawing leaves up over himself for a blanket, he sleeps the sleep of the dead.
From Oddessy, book 5