Polyphemus rips off the tip of the hill and throws it at the Men of Achaea

I called back to the Cyclops, stinging taunts:
‘So, Cyclops, no weak coward it was whose crew
you bent to devour there in your vaulted cave —
you with your brute force! Your filthy crimes
came down on your own head, you shameless cannibal,
daring to eat your guests in your own house —
so Zeus and the other gods have paid you back!’

That made the rage of the monster boil over.
Ripping off the peak of a towering crag, he heaved it
so hard the boulder landed just in front of our dark prow
and a huge swell reared up as the rock went plunging under —
a tidal wave from the open sea. The sudden backwash
drove us landward again, forcing us close inshore
but grabbing a long pole, I thrust us off and away,
tossing my head for dear life, signaling crews
to put their backs in the oars, escape grim death.
They threw themselves in the labor, rowed on fast
but once we’d plowed the breakers twice as far,
again I began to taunt the Cyclops —men around me
trying to check me, calm me, left and right:
So headstrong —why? Why rile the beast again?’

‘That rock he flung in the sea just now, hurling our ship
to shore once more —we thought we’d die on the spot!’

‘If he’d caught a sound from one of us, just a moan,
he would have crushed our heads and ship timbers
with one heave of another flashing, jagged rock!’

‘Good god, the brute can throw!’

The Odyssey, Book 9, Translated by Robert Fagles.