ACT ONE
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I
A preliminary scene of mute action. The front of Circe’s palace at the hour just after sunset. The edifice is of variously tinted stone, a combination of several architectural masses. The windows of the building are tall and very narrow, overshadowed with creeping plants. Its main entrance, at the Left of the Centre, is from a massive porch with gargoyles of serpents at the corners of its roof. The porch is reached by a flight of wide, low steps; the doorway itself, low and wide, deeply receding and darkened by the ample foliage of overhanging vines. The palace faces eastward upon a smooth open court-yard enclosed by a wall of stone with spacious gateway at the Right. The entrance to the court at the Left corner of the building is inconspicuous. At the main gateway there is artificial representation of wolves and leopards as if tame and serving as watchdogs. Behind the court-yard wall rise large trees throwing deep shadows in the twilight. A fountain, dragon-shaped, with circular basin, is centrally placed in the court, that is just at the Right of the porch steps.
As the curtain rises, a humming sound as of a swiftly turned spinning-wheel is heard behind the scenes; and presently the music of Circe’s song (the words of which are sung in a later Scene) is played upon flute and violin. The fountain is playing, and its spray, rising and falling intermittently, gleams with a golden light, occasionally changing to a faint blue, and then becoming golden again. Some of the serpentine gargoyles are seen to sway and writhe like living snakes. A large ape emerges from a small window above the porch, stands upon its roof at first erect like a man, then poses upon all fours at the edge, trying to look underneath into the doorway, and remains in this position. A glimpse also is caught of the Swine-maiden, a tall, gaunt, witch-like figure robed in gray, trailing behind her a very long cowhide whip. Appearing suddenly from some place of concealment she passes furtively and silently, with long strides, across the Left corner and disappears behind the palace.
II
Interior. The banquet-hall of Circe’s palace. A long, low apartment, clearly but not brilliantly illuminated by torch-wood burning upon cressets in the rear, Right and Left. The walls and ceiling of the room are of neutral tint, light shades, but nowhere white; the decorations, of simple Grecian type. Two wide entrances at the rear afford glimpses of a back corridor dimly lighted; between these doors a large spinning-wheel of fantastic pattern stands near the wall. On the Right a curtained opening leads to the boudoir of Circe; and another door is situated further back on this side. On the Left, directly opposite the boudoir, is an entrance from an alcove or passage-way communicating with the porch; in front of it a dais or platform, raised one step higher than the floor of the apartment. Near another door far back on the Left stands a large sideboard or buffet showing the usual garniture. Between the boudoir and the dais, thus centrally placed but a little forward, are two large, low tables nearly square, standing end to end, but far enough apart to allow free passage between them, and showing clearly the spinning-wheel behind. Three tall armchairs or thrones stand, one at the end of the table on the Left, in front of the dais; another at the opposite end of the other table, by the entrance of the boudoir; the third at the left hand of the second throne, behind the table. There are numerous other small Greek chairs without backs. Each table is spread with a light brown cloth. Upon the table at the Right are several pieces of plate and a low spreading vase of flowers near its centre; a flagon and goblets upon the other table. As the curtain rises the music ceases, but the humming of the wheel is continued. Circe is seen seated upon the throne at the head of the table by her boudoir. Her slender golden wand is carelessly thrown upon the table before her. Her black robe she has pushed away from her shoulders over the back of her chair; but she wears her coronal of pearls confining massy black hair, with long, light, pearly veil depending from the diadem behind. Her tunic is of canary-colored silk; she wears crimson sandals, and a golden serpent bracelet encircles her left wrist.
Philinna, a blonde, of beauty comparable to that of Circe herself, but of the opposite type, in dress and in all other respects forming a contrast to the Enchantress, stands behind the throne at her mistress’ left hand.
The place of Thermia, a nymph of elegant figure and winsome expression, is behind the table on the Left, near the throne at its head by the dais.
Myrto, who has dark hair like Circe, but is of small stature and not marked by especial beauty, sits facing the Enchantress by the spinning-wheel, which, as she swiftly turns it, gives forth the melodious hum that fills the air when the curtain rises.
The predominant color of Philinna’s dress is mauve; of Thermia’s, azure; of Myrto’s, dark green. Other nymphs are drest in light gauzy material, never pure white. All wear Grecian costume.
As Circe turns toward her with a slight gesture, Myrto stops the wheel.
Circe
Hush, Myrto; prithee stay Thy busy wheel awhile; I fain would listen To the mere silence—if that be silence, when Naught save the light-wing’d evening zephyr breathes His soft sea-voices through the piny boughs And the broad vine-leaf tinkles at the porch. No footfalls patter now; our thirsty questioners, After the sunset shadow falls, come not. Truly ’twere vain, save by the day’s bright beam, To seek my mansion on this bowery summit Through tangled briery paths and copse-wood dim— For the first time.
Philinna
Thou knowest well, dear lady, No second coming, save in four-footed guise, Thy hand vouchsafes them.
Circe
Ay, not twice the cup For the same drinker need we pour.—And, Myrto, Remembered’st thou to cull the herbs I named, Wolf’s-bane and hemlock and the rest?
Myrto
Yes, lady.
Circe
And stored and sorted all?
Myrto
By the full moon Each kind I pluck’d; then, crosswise laid, I dried them On the black adder-stone what hour no cloud The noonday welkin streak’d.
Circe
’Tis well. Right soon I shall bruise more and brew their potions. [After a brief pause] Ah! Myrto; hast thou aught seen this season yet Of moly plant?
Myrto
No sprig, since we dug forth Those three and to their root put fire.
Philinna
O Circe, What mortal can know moly? or, if found, Might guess that straightening salutary force Which its pale blossom suckles?
Circe
Little indeed Know they or seem to reck, who find my door, By the four winds or vague desire impell’d. Not of the herbs alone, wherewith I work Transforming magic, and of their antidotes Is saving knowledge to human sense denied; But the mere man in equal measure lacks Perception of all that inner occult domain Which on my mystic vision rises clear And blends harmonious with material scenes. Therefore, what mortals know I know more surely, Crowning their wisdom with profounder lore. How oft do they who come, while at this board They swill and gloat, ere yet the damning cup I proffer, boast large deeds and prate of what They call experience—in the same breath imploring Guidance, which I with gracious hand might lend, Seem’d they but worthy. [Philinna nods assent.]
Thermia
Stands some one, Circe, At the porch door.
Circe
Throw open; no mortal visitor Descends so deftly on us.
[The door at the Left is opened by Thermia, showing a golden-gleaming light in the passage-way behind it. Immediately Mercury enters, standing as he first speaks upon the dais. His winged serpent-twined wand is brilliant with inlaid mother-of-pearl. Dewdrops glisten upon the wings of his cap and sandals. The mutual demeanor of Mercury and Circe is friendly, but not familiar. Neither makes show of deference toward the other. Mercury does not remove his cap. He takes no notice whatever of the nymphs.]
Mercury
All-potent Circe, Hail!
Circe
Hail to thee, sir messenger! Be welcome; Tarry and taste our cheer.
[Mercury seats himself upon the throne at the head of the table near which he stands. Thermia takes his wand and lays it upon the table.]
Circe
The nectar, Thermia.
[Thermia serves him from the sideboard and remains standing in attendance.]
Bring’st from the Olympian conclave, Mercury, Tidings to us?
Mercury
Nay, nay; I do but pause On my mid-errand’s flight a restful moment At thy fair island-dome. Weary sometime Falls even the airy stride of winged feet, When at a stern omnipotent behest They spurn the mountain’s serried brow, plunge down, Skimming innumerable waves, and ride From land to land the brindled ocean’s back. But, Mistress Circe, this enchanted isle, Topp’d by thy mansion, doth like a stepping-stone Betwixt the shores of dawn and vesper lie, At the convergent centre of all streams. What roving bark shall miss it?
Circe
Sooner or later ’Tis true each wanderer this way passes; nor, Our gate once spied and hospitable song Heard trilling, turns he back.
Mercury
I am reminded, Whereof I once made mention, again to speak. Fail not to pour thy strongest draught, fair Circe, When sage Ulysses heeds the languorous strain.
Circe
So said’st thou; I recall it. And some potions Do stronger flow an hundred-fold than others.
Mercury
Even so one human counsel another o’er-tops By infinite measure.—But ’tis time to speed And set a finish on this world-spanning errand.
[Thermia hands Mercury his wand as he rises from the throne and steps upon the dais.]
Now for the star-strewn roadways of the sky, By the dun cloud-edge, where fork’d lightnings fly. Farewell!
Circe
Farewell, sir messenger! [Exit Mercury.]
Philinna
[After a pause] Dear lady Circe, Wherefore for us at eve dost thou ne’er lift Thy voice in sweetest song, like that whose spell Binds the doom’d callers at the moaning porch? So might we taste the charm and spare the bane.
Circe
O sit, Philinna, and mark you!
[Philinna seats herself in the throne near Circe. At the same time Thermia takes her seat upon one of the chairs at the other table, resting her left arm on the table.]
Circe
’Tis not at will those tuneful notes upwelling Burst from this bosom’s prison, when once the joy Of fierce enslaving mastery sets them free. I see not his approach who draweth nigh, Like the limed bird in cruel toils to stick, And whom the poison’d chalice straight transforms To brutal shape:—I do not see them come; But by a sudden thrill inspired to sing, With a strange consciousness of quicken’d power, Then know I, and need not look.—Hath e’er one song Fail’d of response, Philinna?
Thermia
Not one; O, never!
Myrto
How could it otherwise befall?
Circe
There be Others in whom by native hap are planted Some powers of vulgar sorcery: whom it profits On magic wheel to lash the skewer’d wryneck; Who their unlovely droning measures vaunt To burst the clammy serpent in the mead, Or from her seat pull down the horned moon. But to their sordid craft my arts compare As sunbeams to a sputtering pitchy torch. When we the human prowler quell and tame, We work illumination!
Philinna
Yet sometimes They shine with princely mien. Even as Mercury In face and stature were those two comely youths Thou once didst change to wolves.
Circe
’Twas their true shape! The godlike figure hath to mankind been lent, Which they abuse to cloak an inner core Of bestial motive. Therefore it is to scatter Light over darkness, when my cunning drugs Make the shell match the kernel. No longer then, Once the true emblem on his visage stamp’d, Doth the pretender with mock daring flourish: Unmask’d, he slinks and cowers.—The most, indeed, Are of mere swinish habit; and for them The pointed snout suffices and rough hide. But some—[With mock seriousness] Thou dream’st not, sweet Philinna, How cruelly those same youths, but for my spell, Had rent us both!
Myrto
[Gravely] Ay, true; didst thou not mark, Philinna, what hungry looks they bent upon The lady Circe, even while they drank? ’Twas not The fragrant wine-cup drew them, but o’er its rim Her neck they scann’d and watch’d the hand and arm That reach’d the potion. So had they gazed on thee, If Circe sat not by.
Philinna
Ah, Myrto; how Could I the right herb choose and guide the beaker? Or wield the magic wand!
Thermia
[Holding up her hands] O simple, simple!
Circe
[Warmly] Thy beauty and my love for thee, Philinna, Are of a piece; both do transcend the limit Of usual quality. For, without thee, I Should seem to hover in a stale vacant world; Whilst thou, arm’d with no wand or secret drug, Unconscious and unskill’d, canst oft divert The most admiring, ardent, rapt regards Away from the famed Circe—deem’d forsooth To win by her sheer woman’s charm not less Than by shrewd arts. It is perchance the reason Why thou art dear, because no studied guile Can in thy breast find lodgement. Oft we crave That in a friend which our own temper lacks; And the two mingle to a more perfect being Than either by itself.
[Laying her left hand upon Philinna’s right arm]
’Tis pure simplicity Framed as a smiling goddess at my elbow.
Myrto
[Gravely] Dear lady Circe, may the gods preserve her, Shouldst thou in turn e’er fail at her right hand To sit with guardian thoughts.
Thermia
Nay, Myrto! Stand we not all in like need of that shelter And sweet assurement which no other hand Than Circe’s can dispense? ’Tis the good spell Her bright superior spirit weaves round us, lends Fragrance and bloom to our sequester’d lives. What, but for that enrichment, would import Fair skies and shady bowers?—But these mock dangers Are but the flounce and garnish of our pastime. Your mighty men I find more vain than valiant. Didst thou fear Mikkos, Myrto, in his former, Native habiliment?
Myrto
[Laughing] O Thermia, he was terrible!
Thermia
And that sleek scrivener, who serves now as one Of our gate leopards—was it a peril when he, Before his lips touch’d the transforming potion, Offer’d me marriage?
Philinna
But what is marriage, Thermia?
Thermia
It is as if a clever craftsman built A cage round Circe and yourself, then lock’d Its door upon you both and flung the key Under the fountain.
Philinna
[Springing from her chair and drawing back behind it]
Holy Diana! I should break out and fly like Circe’s peacock Into the beech-tree by the spring.
Circe
[Laughing] O children, children! How will ye all most learnedly discourse, Where ye know least? There lurks indeed small peril To your fair persons, but the danger hits Your unsophisticated silly souls. Some men there be, whose fervid, flattering words Would fluster and bedazzle you, till all This tranquil sweet companionship should vanish, As the light puffy thistle-down dispell’d, Leaving a weary lone unrest behind it. It is my swift preventing magic catches And tangles their approach. We are too quick For them; nor shall they soon outspeed us.—Yet My brother, the great magician, told me once, That if a drug e’er fail’d me and work’d not For any cause its proper due effects, Then we stood liable to some counter-spell Of similar assignment. And he cited My cousin Medea’s strange unhappy story. [To Philinna, playfully] So; When the poor Circe faints, Philinna, thou Wouldst fly off and desert her?
Philinna
O no! not Without the cage.
Circe
[Laughing] No; I am sure Whate’er befalls, Philinna will be faithful.
Thermia
[Seriously] She will indeed, my lady!
Circe
Of faith and love there is no dearth among us, Though scant occasion offer which might put A true friend’s temper to the test. For here The spirit of petty jangling sits aloof And common pastime smooths the tripping hours. Its spice is in the hazard. It were indeed A dull domain on Circe’s isle, flow’d not The petulant human throng up to our door. For fail’d we to suppress them, we ourselves Might share that wearisome slow life which men Owe to their fleeting, vain, unsteady loves. O verily they should thank us!
[Circe leans back in her chair, playing with the wand that lies on the table. Then straightening up and looking across the room she claps her hands twice. Directly the lute-girl Thrattis enters at the Left corner. She stands leaning against the sideboard and strikes chords upon her instrument as prelude.]
Myrto
O Circe, may Mikkos dance to-night?
Circe
Yes, child.—Poor Mikkos! His dancing days were over When first he sought us and became our patient. Now they begin anew.
[She signs to Thrattis, who begins a dancing tune. Other music is heard in accord with the lute. Philinna and Thermia dance, not as partners, but singly, with Grecian or Turkish movement, passing round alternately between the tables and in front and behind them. Circe leans back and looks on with evident pleasure, beating time informally with her wand. Immediately when the dancing begins, Myrto runs out at the Right centre for Mikkos; but at the same time Mikkos darts in at the Left centre, drops into Myrto’s seat, and begins to turn her wheel. The ape wears a handsome collar with about four feet of light brass chain hanging from it. Myrto follows laughing, seizes the chain, and pulling Mikkos to his feet the girl and the ape dance, confining themselves to the back part of the room. Myrto’s dancing is similar to that of the other two nymphs, except that she does not display the same arm movements. Mikkos dances only as an ordinary trained simian might succeed in doing. Next, Graea the swine-maiden enters at the Right centre and joins in the performance. Her dancing, which she confines to the corner of the room opposite Thrattis, consists in snaky, gyratory movements, stooping and with long steps trailing her great whip slowly in circles upon the floor.—Presently Circe, drawing her black robe over her shoulders, still holding the wand, rises from her throne. The music ceases. Thrattis, Mikkos, and Graea disappear, and the three nymphs come to a standstill at about their usual places in the room.]
Circe
[To her nymphs] Thus merry our lives, through the whole endless round Of blithe days and the placid restful nights That top their radiance. How ye are blest, forsooth Ye cannot know, because that bliss transcends All ken and inquisition. It is some part Of the vast natural world instill’d and moulded In your fair forms divine, whereto small fleck Of human taint hath fallen; but an ethereal Kinship of cloud and fountain and wild wood Thrills the translucent ichor in your veins. O sweet immortal sisterhood!
Thermia
A mighty willow guards the meadow’s brink, Where daisies shine and finches pause to drink: Each year its lissome branches droop anew, And on the straightest, smoothest shoot I grew.
Myrto
Deep in the forest shade black water ran: Beneath its tide my babyhood began; And while for strength these tiny knees did lack, A bullfrog bore me on his bright green back.
Philinna
Down a sheer sunny cliff wild waters whirl In tinted gleams of amethyst and pearl: And where that dangling riband dots the sky, From one soft gauzy filament sprang I.
[The curtains of Circe’s bower are drawn away, revealing some part of its interior and a nymph standing on either side. Circe moves slowly backward to the bower entrance; and her three nymphs move backward toward the several exits.]
Circe
[To the audience] There is a sleep that hath no need of dreams: When of each waking hour the passage seems A bird-flight under lovelier skies than those Which dreamland fancy to the slumberer shows.
[The music of Circe’s song is again heard, and the drop-curtain falls while all are just disappearing. Philinna goes out at Right 2; Thermia at Left 2; Myrto at Left centre.]
III
A camp by the seashore just before sunrise. The ground rises at the back and Right, rough with shrubbery and rocks. A galley of antique build has been drawn upon the sand crosswise at the Left and there are glimpses of the sea on this side. The mast has been unstepped and a few long oars lean against the side of the vessel. There are other signs of a recent disembarcation. Articles of nautical and warlike use lie on the ground or hang upon bushes and rocks; wine-jars, cups, plates, etc. have been deposited. The forms of a numerous company of men are seen sleeping on the ground, wrapped in their blankets, here and there near the ship.—In the foreground at the Right centre a fire of small sticks is beginning to burn under tripod and kettle. Theron, the cook, is seen seated on the ground near the fire, washing strips of meat for roasting. From the low branch of a tree near him hangs the well stripped carcass of a deer, the hide and the head bearing large antlers in full view near by. Elpenor, the cook’s helper, is at work trying to make the fire burn.
Theron
Scratch together another stick or two of wood, youngster.
[Enter Glaucus at Right with a jar of water which he sets down near Theron.]
That will do for water, Glauc. Take a hand now and help the lad blow the fire a bit.
Glaucus
So I will, though I be a trifle blown myself, tramping up and down to that spring.
Theron
That’s where the commander pinked the deer yesterday, eh?
Glaucus
Ay, ay; the old man hasn’t forgotten how to let slip an arrow since we became water-dogs, for certain.
Theron
’Twas a crack piece of venison he fetched in and no mistake! There’s a strip or two left for breakfast; but I reckon we’ll have to make a soup of the hide for dinner—that is if other game doesn’t turn up. [He lays pieces of meat spitted over the coals.]
Glaucus
The soup’ll do them. They took solid meat enough aboard yesterday to last for a week’s voyage.
Elpenor
When I saw them eating, it made me think of father feeding the hogs up in Cephallenia.
Glaucus
They’re grunting yet. Just hear the beggars snore! And we turned in before sunset too.
Theron
The Pramnian’s responsible for that: we tapped four jars. It’s the same as keeled over that beastly hulk of a Cyclops.
Elpenor
The commander took a mighty round swig himself; I saw him.
Glaucus
Trust him for keeping his head level. Besides, he can carry more of the rosy than any three of us.
Theron
Pass over those barley spats, boy—ah! you’ve got them too wet, you monkey.—Say, Glauc, how would you like to see such a thing as a woman again, eh? [Theron grins and nudges Glaucus’ knee with his elbow.]
Glaucus
Well, you’re right; it is a long time since.
Elpenor
Wasn’t that a woman you saw at the last landing-place?—there where they smashed all the ships we had but this one.
Theron
What!—the giant’s daughter? Bless you, boy, that was a waddling mountain, not a woman!
Glaucus
You might throw your arms round her waist twice, Elpy, and never touch the tips of your fingers.
Theron
By the powers, she was a hogshead to tackle; ha, ha!
Glaucus
If there be female inhabitants of this prickly country, it’s to be hoped they’re not built after that pattern. But everything here wears horns, so far. [He taps the antlers of the stag.]
Theron
Well, we’re nigh about ready. Set those plates round in just a little order. Call ’em up, Elp! Take my knife here and hammer on that shield hanging by the tree. The sun’ll be on us shortly. One more jar of water, Glaucus. [Exit Glaucus.]
Elpenor
[Pounding on the metallic shield] Ding, dong! Cling, clang! Breakfast! Get up! Get up! Breakfast! Ding, dong! Cling, clang!
[The men rise one after another from their beds on the ground and adjust their garments, which look stained and weather-worn. Glaucus re-enters and pours water into several basins for the men to wash their hands. They gradually find seats on the ground near the fire and begin to eat, the cook and his assistant serving them informally. The conversation begins while they are dressing and getting ready, before they sit.]
Phorbas
[Looking around him suspiciously] I wonder on which side the sun rises in this blessed country.
Philemon
On the east side, maybe; leastwise it ought to come up opposite to where it went down yesterday.
Phorbas
Well, who remembers where that was? Split me if I do!
Glaucus
Avast there! the sun’ll peep over in a jiffy—by the spring yonder. [He turns his thumb backward to the Right.]
Phorbas
All the same we don’t any of us know where we are.
Theron
We’re supposed to be at the breakfast table now, lads. Fall to if you’ve got any appetite left over from yesterday!
Xenias
We’ve got more appetite left over than you have chops, cook.
Theron
Ay, every chop’s a sparerib this morning—except a few choice cuts here for the commander and the mate. They’re done now.
[He takes the meat from the fire into a platter.]
Here, young man; take ’em over to him round the other side of the ship.
Elpenor
[As he goes out] We’re going to have soup for dinner. [He disappears behind the vessel.]
Philemon
Look here, Theron; did you put the charcoal in these barley cakes before baking or after?
Glaucus
Pooh, pooh! Never mind the grit, man; it’s an aid to digestion. We’re lucky enough to have groats aboard, anyway.
Phorbas
We’re lucky to be alive! By Apollo, how I shiver when I think of that Æolian duffer and the cursed wind-bags he palmed off on us!
Xenias
’Twas worse than a hurricane on the wrong quarter when they blew up—took us straight back to the old boy himself.
Philemon
He was a windy humbug! You’d have thought, to hear him talk, we’d be back home in Ithaca inside of twenty-four hours.
Phorbas
And now we’re only here! Another cannibal island, I’ll bet my pile! Ye gods! I wouldn’t go up ten rods from the shore for a gold mine.
Theron
Well, the commander took a little walk yesterday and nobody ate him up. He didn’t make much of a report as to what he saw; but I’ve a notion he’ll say something about it to-day.
Glaucus
Sh—here he comes now! Mind your taps, men!
[Enter Ulysses and Eurylochus at the Left from behind the ship. The men finishing their meal salute without rising and arrange themselves comfortably and informally on the ground in a sort of circle looking toward Ulysses in the centre. Elpenor re-enters behind the two and sits down with the others. Eurylochus also seats himself upon the ground at the right hand of Ulysses. In appearance the mate is distinguished from the crew mainly by wearing fresher and less weather-beaten garments. Ulysses wears a helmet and carries his sword and baldric in his hand. He throws the weapon upon the ground, and as he begins to speak takes off his helmet, holding it swinging by its strap in his left hand while he stands and speaks. The rays of the rising sun now strike over the bank behind him.]
Ulysses
Good morrow, men! How sped the night?
Several Voices
O, hearty, hearty!
Eurylochus
They had a bout to sleep on, you remember, sir.
Ulysses
That was high festival—too rare a hap! ’Twas sipping of the rest ye needed sore; But now there’s toil in prospect.
Philemon
We thought you might tell us, sir, what the prospect showed when you stepped out yesterday and got the deer.
Phorbas
We’re hoping to sail away from here directly.
Ulysses
Of sail and oar appears an end not yet, Brave comrades,—ye sad fortune-favor’d few, Poor relic of that once gallant troop which sat High on three-hundred thwarts; when each proud keel, Cleaving a homeward furrow, swept gaily past Familiar beacons; and from known crag and scaur Triumphal friendly greetings echoed loud, That drop like honey in victorious ears. Not long their cadence linger’d; but ye know What flouts of whirlwind and black sulphurous cloud, Wreck-witness’d warrants of Neptunian ire, Whelm’d some with death and the scant remnant usher’d Into these strange, uncanny, nameless seas. And now from wave to wave your weary arms Drive the lone pinnace, this frail shell of hope, With mingled dread and homesick yearning freighted.
[As Ulysses pauses, some of the men, all of whom are looking to him intently, shake their heads or rock themselves to and fro, and faint groans are heard.]
But cheer, brave shipmates; cheer! Not boundless stretch these watery wastes, but still Shines somewhere a vine-clad slope and pebbly cove, The fair home-harbor pictured in your dreams.
[The men give utterance to loud sighs and groans.]
Somewhere it sparkles yet; but whether a ray Of yonder climbing sun illumed its borders Ere he warm’d us, or by the western rim Of darkling eve our cherish’d haven lies, We know not. In ourselves, thus mazed and wilder’d By circular driftings and strange gruesome sights, There springs no source of judgment, whence to draw Some pilotage and index of true course. Yet on these wild inhospitable shores Beings we have encounter’d—and not all Of baleful or ungracious mood—who hold Rare store of guiding knowledge.—Should we not Press with glad feet even now our native soil, If ye, unhappy men, had spared to loose The contrary winds great Æolus did tie down To assure our safety?
[The men manifest great perturbation; some gesticulating and shaking their heads; others rising to their knees and striking themselves. Mutterings and faint outcries escape them.]
Eurylochus
[Timidly; rising to his feet] You failed to tell them, sir, what was in the bags.
Ulysses
[Sternly] I fail’d first to remember What slender stock of prudence or just restraint Your wits preserve. So, while I slept, ye wrought Mischief beyond repair. It was thy watch, Eurylochus; dost recall it?
Eurylochus
Yes, sir, it was my company on duty then.
Ulysses
Draw off thy men; let them assemble apart.
[At a sign from Eurylochus men to the number of one-half the crew arise and group themselves around him on the Right. The rest remain seated nearer Ulysses. Eurylochus’ company includes Glaucus, Theron, Elpenor, and Phorbas.]
Ulysses
[To all as before] I repeat, then, There dwell in these weird regions spirits—some few, Mighty yet not malevolent, and endued With sapient skill and far discernment. Nor Save by experience of them may we hope To win the instructions craved. Here yesterday From the bare peak whereto I clomb, the view Of a round isle lay open; and at the point Where these upwinding brambly folds converge I saw faint-coiling smoke-wreaths, the sure sign Of dwellers.
[All of the men are visibly disturbed and give increased and anxious attention.]
It behooves us now to prove Their case and disposition. But whether it suits Rather that I conduct my party thither For the grave query, or Eurylochus his, Allotment shall decide.
[Sensation among his hearers]
Ofttimes the hand Of Fortune guides a venturous essay fitter Than human arbitration. Mark, then, Eurylochus, My lot and thine.
[Eurylochus with assistance from others finds upon the beach two small flat stones. These he scratches with his dagger, marking one with a V, the other with an E.]
Shake now the sherds, good Glaucus.
[As he speaks Ulysses passes the helmet which he has hitherto held in his left hand to Glaucus. The two lots are thrown into the helmet; and Glaucus, standing in an open space and watched with intense expectation by all present, shakes it violently with a circular movement until one of the lots flies out and falls to the ground. The men strain their eyes toward the stone as it is picked up by Glaucus.]
Ulysses
Well, what decision?
Glaucus
[Holding up the stone] It’s Eurylochus, sir, his mark.
[The announcement produces various effects upon the men. The party of Ulysses, seated upon the ground, strive not to show too plainly their sense of relief; while the standing company of Eurylochus are more openly affected. Phorbas in particular is in a highly nervous state, glancing now toward the hill, now toward the water. A few other timid ones in the same party demean themselves similarly.]
Ulysses
[To Eurylochus] Enough; make ready directly, and proceed with reasonable haste.
[The mate’s company move apart and make preparations, helped to some extent by the others. There is lively motion in both groups. They gather up things needful for an expedition, spears, staves, water-flasks, etc. Theron, a portly figure, does not change his cook’s garb, but buckles on a very broad belt with hanging straps, and whets his butcher’s cleaver with a stone. Shortly they are ready to start.]
Eurylochus
My mission is, sir——?
Ulysses
To announce, if those thou haply find’st wear not Sinister aspect, our good-will and greeting; And the right winds for homeward voyage inquire.
Eurylochus
Very well, sir.—Fall in, lads!
[Eurylochus’ followers draw closer to their leader, apart from the others. All are serious. Individuals take leave of one another here and there with hand-shaking, etc.]
Ulysses
The sign show’d near the summit. Your ascent, Thorny perchance and steep, will prove not long; The questioning, easy.
Xenias
[Seriously] Have an eye to Theron, Glaucus; let him not be too forward with that meat-knife of his!
Elpenor
[Taking hold of a strap at Theron’s belt] I shall hold him back.
Ulysses
Full oft a forward mood and hardy daring Is of prime merit; circumstance will teach How far to temper zeal with slow discretion. Farewell!
Eurylochus
Farewell, sir!—Forward, men!
Several Voices on Both Sides
Farewell! adieu! luck, luck!
[The mate’s company go out at the Right and upward. Eurylochus himself is abreast of the foremost on their left. The vanguard consists of Glaucus, Theron (cleaver in hand), and Elpenor (a fragile, attenuated figure) behind the cook, holding at his belt. Phorbas and other timid ones bring up the rear. The drop-curtain falls as they move off while the rest watch them and wave their hands to them.]
IV
The same as Scene I. The front of Circe’s palace. No music or other sound is heard when the curtain rises. The fountain plays as before.—Enter at the Right by the main gateway Eurylochus and his party, the men grouped similarly as at the close of the last scene, but in the reverse order. In advance are Phorbas and the other timid ones; they enter hurriedly, casting glances of alarm behind them. The rest of the party immediately follow; Eurylochus, Glaucus, and Theron last. Elpenor is in front of Theron, who pushes him forward. The whole company quickly come to a standstill in a single close group with considerable space between them and the steps of the porch. They scan the building and its environs with looks of wonder, especially fascinated by the fountain with its changing hues.—Eurylochus stands apart from the rest, his demeanor indicating hesitation and perplexity. While the others are talking he walks slowly to and fro, occasionally pausing and scanning suspiciously the various features of the scene.
Theron
It’s a rum go so far! eh, Glaucus?
Glaucus
[Shrugging his shoulders] Rum’s the word! An outpost of tame tigers! It beats anything we’ve walked into yet. Cyclops’ cave wasn’t a circumstance.
Theron
I had a notion to crack the skull of that overgrown wolf-cub when he landed his dirty paws on my shoulders. But he looked sort o’ gentle like, and besides I thought the old chap who owns the menagerie might take a miff—whoever he is.
Glaucus
It’s some retired show-man or prize-fighter, I reckon.
Theron
He’s got a blue devil penned up in his fountain, sure! Just look at that, old man; hock first, and blue vitriol at the tail end of it! There’s bitters for you with a vengeance!—Blast me, but I’m thirsty as an oyster, whacking a way up through that pesky brush-wood! If there’s a chance to wet our whistles inside the house it’ll be worth the dog-show twice over.
Phorbas
I tell you it’ll pay to be cautious about the inside. Ugh! it did make my flesh creep, crossing that cordon of wild-cats! There’s no knowing what we’ll put our foot on if we go farther.
Elpenor
I put my foot on a snake.
Glaucus
They put an architect to work here that saw snakes, anyhow. Take a look at those water-spouts, boys! [Pointing to the gargoyles]
Eurylochus
[Approaching the group] Well, men; what’s the next step? The commander said go ahead if the people weren’t unfriendly. The wild beasts out there were friendly enough, you might say; but there’s an uncanny look to it all.
Theron
I vote to go ahead and knock up the owner. If he’s no worse than his own whelps we can stand it;—especially if he stands for the drinks.
Glaucus
There’s no two-legged craft within hail outside—nothing but four-footed gentry out here.
Eurylochus
We might mount the stairs, then, cautiously, and see how things look under the doorway yonder. [Shaking his head] But I fear enchantment.
[As they approach the steps the hum of the spinning-wheel begins to be heard. The men pause again, and look at each other a moment in silence. Eurylochus starts at the sound of the wheel, his features betraying heightened anxiety.]
Theron
[Slapping Glaucus on the shoulder] God-a-mercy, it’s womankind after all, Glauc! Come on! Ha, ha!
Elpenor
Maybe it’s a mountain.
[They all move toward the steps again. Theron, with Elpenor holding to his belt, and Glaucus are now in advance; Eurylochus is at one side; Phorbas and others are behind. As the first man sets foot on the steps the wheel stops humming and faint music strikes up as prelude to Circe’s song. Immediately a clear soprano voice is heard behind the scenes singing the air, the chorus of the song being performed by a quartette of women’s voices. The hearers are sensibly affected, showing their feelings by appropriate pantomime as they alternately pause and mount slowly higher and higher upon the stairs. Eurylochus alone exhibits symptoms of horror and repulsion; the others seem to be charmed and lured on by the song. All of them except the leader are gathered together upon the porch close to the doorway when the last stanza is sung.]
The Song of Circe
Ah, who!—ah, who! Who would dwell longer there bis In a rude world of care, Of toil and care! They only live, who hear My song and taste my cheer— Who my life share. bis Ah, who!—ah, who Would toil and tarry there!
(Chorus)
They only live, who hear Our song and taste our cheer— Who our life share. bis Ah, who!—ah, who Would toil and tarry there!
II
I know—I know Where bubbling waters flow; Where shadowy willows sway And wood nymphs hide and play In my round isle. I know which clustering vine Spirts out the sweetest wine. Who would not while Swift hours away! Ah, who!—ah, who! In my round bowery isle!
(Chorus)
We know—we know which vine Spirts out the sweetest wine. Who would not while Swift hours away! Ah, who!—ah, who! In our round bowery isle!
III
I know—I know What makes the wood-dove moan bis In the dark coppice lone; I know the cure. When floats the owlet’s cry, Her quavering lullaby, Who!—ah, who! While night winds sigh, Who would not quaff the cure! Ah, who!—ah, who!
(Chorus)
We know, we know the cure. When floats the owlet’s cry, Her quavering lullaby, Who!—ah, who! While night winds sigh, Who would not quaff the cure! Ah, who!—ah, who!
Glaucus
[Loudly, in a musical tone] Hola!—hola!
[Directly upon the utterance of this call the low, shaded recess of the doorway, which was dark before, grows bright with the same golden radiance that had shone intermittently upon the fountain; and the throng of visitors, excepting their leader, press swiftly forward and disappear through the opening. Again immediately the light in the doorway changes to blue, with electrical sparks. Eurylochus, who is directing his gaze toward the opening, shrinks back in alarm; and at the same moment the spray of the fountain becomes blue and remains of that color. Descending to a lower stair Eurylochus peers under the doorway, listening intently. No sound is heard. Then, his attention being drawn to the sombre hue of the fountain, while he is looking away from the entrance, a large serpent lets down its coils from the roof of the porch; and as the man turns again toward the entrance he is confronted with its wide-open jaws, forked tongue, and glittering eyes. As he retreats precipitately from the stairs the serpent draws itself up out of sight. Eurylochus stops once more in the foreground to watch and listen for some sign of his men within the palace; but as he turns toward the building, the head of a wolf with glowing eyes is protruded from a clump of shrubbery. Upon encountering this final apparition he flees in consternation from the scene.]
V
The Seashore again. The curtain rising discovers the men left behind at the camp sitting irregularly grouped near the fire-place. Ulysses stands apart from them by the ship, busied in inspecting his arms, the spear, bow, and sword, which hang near or lean against the vessel. When he unsheathes and sheathes the sword to examine it while his men are talking it is seen to have a brightly polished, rather broad, but not heavy blade. Most of the time he stands with face turned toward the water, his back to the Right.
First Sailor
Look here, lads; we can’t wait till noon for a bite! The commander ordered breakfast so rattling early this morning I’ve got a brand-new appetite already.
Xenias
Well, take a nibble on that pile of Theron’s charcoal cakes left over. They need a good appetite to make ’em slip down.
First Sailor
Maybe the mate or Glaucus’ll fetch in another stag or a wild goat on their way back.
Second Sailor
A wild goose more like; I wonder how far they’ve got anyway.
Philemon
They ought to turn up before noon. The commander said they might get up there and return in a couple of hours, as he judged—that is, if they scratched gravel lively.
Xenias
They’ve got Theron with ’em, remember; he can’t pass between two trees when they grow too near together.
First Sailor
No, but he can clear a path with his cleaver for two men—him and Elpy spindle-shanks.
Second Sailor
[In undertone] By the way, the commander’s pretty busy over there with his own cutlery. I wonder what he expects next.
Philemon
He expects to be ready, whatever comes. You don’t catch him napping. Besides, who wants a speck of rust on a hanger like that? The war’s an old story now; and this salt air’s the devil’s own invention to make a blade stick to the scabbard.
Xenias
’Twas a pity he couldn’t draw it on that Cyclops hog. But if we’d let the blood out of him it wouldn’t have let us out of his pesky cave with a giant’s tomb-stone clapped up to the door!—[Whistling low as he looks up. Xenias sits facing the Right.] Whew!—What’s in the wind now?
[All turn quickly toward the point indicated by the speaker, not excepting Ulysses, whose attention has been attracted by the whistle. At the Right from above Eurylochus enters slowly and hesitatingly, looking pale and haggard, his clothing torn and disordered by the brambles. Observing that all eyes are directed upon him he stops as if afraid to approach the company. Most of the men rise to their feet and move toward him.]
Several Voices
Hi! hi!—what’s the good word?—News, news? Where’s Glauc? [Eurylochus responds only with deprecatory gestures.]
Ulysses
What? ho, Eurylochus! Hast tidings? Why alone?
What ails thee, mate? Speak out; tell us thy story!
[With gestures of dismay Eurylochus moves nearer to Ulysses, but does not speak. Ulysses regards him with an expression of deep concern. The other men gather more closely round the pair.]
Xenias
Wake up, man! What’s in your eye? We’re here to help; cheer up!
Philemon
[Patting Eurylochus on the shoulder] Out with it; out with it!—Go ahead; palaver!
Xenias
Open up, old fellow. You’re not dead, anyway. We’re used to funerals by this time. [Eurylochus remains in his despairing attitude and is still unable to speak.]
Ulysses
[Severely; taking a step nearer to Eurylochus, while the men fall back slightly.]
Eurylochus, I enjoin you and command To conquer this o’er-mastering mute despair. Deliver straightway the account we crave Of your commission and make known why thus Alone and fraught with visible woe thou comest.— Where are they? Speak!—
Eurylochus
[With effort; after further hesitation.]
Noble Ulysses, we did most duly follow Thy charge and indication. And when with sharp Stretches of toilsome clambering we drew nigh This shaggy island’s summit, where the ground Sloped smoother, as these rude prickly folds gave way To a tall grove of sombre trees which thrust Their welcome shadows against the mounting sun,— There ’twixt the spectral boles our upward glance Fell on a portly mansion’s shimmering sides. But first, as we clomb higher, a court-yard wall Barr’d, though with open portals, our approach. For at its mouth a glowering throng, Ulysses, Of pards and grisly wolves sat by; not wild, But of a tameness stranger and more awful Than fierce beasts’ native temper—’twas sure sign, And not the last, of foul enchantment. These Strove not to tear and rend us, but were fain Like petted dogs to fawn, wagging long tails And monstrous paws on lap or shoulders throwing; While in their eyes sad looks, half human, seem’d To deprecate and warn. But we press’d on, Heeding thy charge, Ulysses, to mark well The human dwellers’ aspect and of them Inquire, proved they not unbenign or harsh. Dwellers indeed we saw not; but the whole pile, As near its door we stood, did reek and rumble With devilish witchery. Scaly serpents writhed At every coigne; faces with fiery eyeballs Peer’d out amid the foliage; and o’er all Weird flashes leapt of lurid sulphurous flame. Yet that which most profoundly stirr’d my doubts And dark suspicions, was the unearthly song, With languorous music mixt, that issued forth To charm and tempt us with seductive spell. Myself shrank back when on my ear that strain Of woman’s guile or witch’s magic struck. Not so the rest, Ulysses,—our lost comrades; But the song bound and pull’d them; nor could I Stem their mad folly. One spoke forth and call’d; And as the doors swang wider all were swept Under the hellish gap; which, closing, swallow’d Like an engulfing whirlpool the doom’d crew. For though, as the song ceased, I watch’d and waited Long time for tidings or some sign, none came: Naught but a dismal silence and increase Of snaky menace and blue infernal gleams!
[Immediately upon the conclusion of Eurylochus’ narrative Ulysses, who has listened intently, reaches for his sword near by; takes a quick look at the blade as he draws it partly out and then pushes it back into the scabbard; slings the weapon over his shoulder, puts on his helmet, and then turns to Eurylochus again. The latter exhibits fresh dismay at seeing Ulysses thus arm himself. The other men also are visibly affected by their commander’s movements.]
Ulysses
So then thou knowest the way, Eurylochus: Lead on forthwith by the same path; show me The spot where thou didst leave them.
Eurylochus
[Falling at the feet of Ulysses and clasping his knees]
Not thither, great Ulysses! Take me not thither! Thyself will ne’er return, I know right well. It is the road to death or to some state Of hideous, vile bewitchment worse than death. Thou canst not rescue them! What power hath man To battle with foul uncanny spirits?—Nay, This isle is haunted. Let us fly; we are Thus many left alive. To ship and fly!
Ulysses
[Scornfully] Eurylochus, ’tis thy privilege; thou art free To nurse thy safety, tarrying by the ship. On me a duty rests; my course lies clear: My comrades’ fate I go to prove.
[Eurylochus retreats and cowers while Ulysses speaks, at the same time gradually rising to a standing posture with his face toward the speaker. He does not join the group of the other men. These have their eyes fixed on the commander, some of them moving anxiously toward him. With his last words Ulysses starts to go out at the Right. Eurylochus turns away and sits upon a stone near the ship and the water at the Left, covering his face.]
Philemon
May we not, sir, accompany you as guard Or help at hazard?
Ulysses
Nay, good men; remain And guard the vessel. My errand’s of espial And wary circumspection: meet for one; For more, unsuited. I shall not slip. Farewell!
Several Voices
Farewell! farewell, sir!
[The curtain falls as Ulysses disappears, while the men stand following his footsteps with their eyes.]
VI
The same as Scene II. Circe’s banquet-hall.—As the curtain rises the party who entered the palace at the close of Scene IV are shown seated at the table on the Left, while Thermia and other nymphs serve them with food and wine. The cups are filled by pouring from tall slender pitchers of silver, and these in turn by dipping the wine with ladles from the punch-bowl on the sideboard. The Enchantress and her companions are in their usual places. Myrto turns her wheel slowly and intermittently without noticeable sound. Circe, seated as before at the head of the table on the Right, wears the same dress as in Scene II, but her black robe is not thrown off. The wand lies upon the table near her right hand, neither carelessly nor conspicuously placed. The throne at her left hand, behind which Philinna stands, is occupied by Mikkos, who wears a brightly polished collar.
The guests are all at the table farthest from Circe. The throne at its head, opposite her throne, is occupied by Elpenor. At his left, near the corner of the table, sits Phorbas, partaking freely of the banquet, but glancing nervously, now toward Mikkos and now toward the door behind the dais where they had entered. At the left of Phorbas sit some feasters with their backs to the audience. On the other side of the table, facing the audience, are Theron the cook (at Elpenor’s right) wearing his cap; Glaucus (the farthest in the direction toward Mikkos); and other men between Theron and Glaucus.
It is near the close of the entertainment. Appearances indicate that the banqueters have begun to feel the effects of the wine that is still poured freely. They are also partly dazed and partly exhilarated by the presence of the Enchantress and her elegant nymphs. The symptoms of intoxication and bewilderment on the part of the men become by degrees more manifest as the conversation proceeds. Glaucus preserves his dignity rather better than his companions; but he seems fascinated by Circe, to whom he is the nearest in his position at table; and he does not refrain from drinking copiously, nor show due caution or a disposition to remember the details of the mission with which Eurylochus had been entrusted.
Circe
[After a pause] Ye do full justice, strangers and kind guests, To this our welcome and the cheer we spread. ’Tis right. Go on; and so with act sincere, Not by the hollow word, those virtues prove Which to my bounty I would fain impute. And truly, until a guest hath quell’d the pangs Of sharp importunate hunger, it were ungracious To crave of him accounts or ply his ear With curious question.—I am well pleased to wait Upon your silence keeping even pace With appetite.—Ye have not sat of late, I judge, at flowing boards.
Elpenor
[Loudly] We had roast deer yesterday.
Theron
[Flourishing his fork] Done to a turn!
Circe
Ah!—did ye then venture To hunt and slay the creatures that frequent My island park? It were no jest to play The involuntary cannibal!
[Some of the men are seen to be startled by this remark.]
Follow’d perchance Unusual visions in the wake of the feast?
Phorbas
Yes, yes! my sleep ran ghostly; but I thought ’Twas a mere nightmare.
Elpenor
I thought I saw a horse!
Circe
Of our four-footed denizens we note Two sorts: one of original beastly shape; Another, to which the brutal guise hath fallen As fit encasement of their human habits. And these two kinds, one from the other with sure Discrimination to distinguish, proves Sometimes not easy. Thus our good Mikkos here
[Patting the ape lightly]
Was once a philosopher of the ancient sect Call’d pre-Ionic—in his day the most Redoubtable of doubters.
Glaucus
[Gravely; nodding his head unsteadily] Madam, we doubt it not.
Circe
Fate ordain’d That to this island he should drift and taste Our cordials. Whereon he was profoundly struck With my maid Myrto.
[Here Myrto without looking up sets her wheel a-spinning loudly for a brief moment, causing the banqueters to turn their eyes in her direction.]
From that hour a change Came o’er him.
Myrto
It was a harmless fancy; And he is harmless now.
[Upon hearing Myrto’s voice Mikkos without turning toward her begins to raise himself by his hands upon the arms of the chair, but at a sign from Circe lowers himself to sitting posture.]
Theron
[To Circe; pointing with his fork to Philinna] But why, madam?—why did he not choose That young miss there behind him?
Circe
He was a philosopher, I said.
Theron
He was a pig!—
Circe
Ah, by the by, Thermia, didst thou tell Graea To renovate those sties?
Thermia
I did, my lady. More swine, she says, have bolted And to the woods run wild. One sty stands empty.
Circe
It shall be fill’d erelong.
Phorbas
[Looking anxiously at a platter before him]
Might there be a possible doubt about these spareribs?
Circe
Not the least; I have a discriminating cook.
Theron
[Helping himself to more meat] You can wager She knows pork when she sees it!
Elpenor
My father feeds hogs too.
Circe
Thy father, gentle youth, will be to-morrow One pig the poorer.—But where dwells he pray?
Elpenor
He dwells at home; I left him there.
Theron
Lady, the lad forgets; I do much doubt If his own name he can remember right now.
Circe
It is an infirmity that ofttimes with wassail Waxes apace. But haply you, good sir, Can tell me whence ye came?
Theron
O sure, ma’am! we came lately from a cove Call’d Æolus.
Circe
Ah, what!—from my great kinsman, The steward of the winds?
Theron
A windy stew He brew’d for us!—Great Juno! was it breezy, Glauc?
Glaucus
Madam, I am a sailor; but I never Saw such incessant, damnable contrary winds In all my voyaging!
Phorbas
[Rousing himself excitedly]
Yes, yes; but who? Who let ’em out? Who let ’em out?
[Glaucus looks fiercely at the speaker and Theron extends his fist threateningly toward him. Phorbas shrinks away.]
Circe
But, gentlemen, pray inform me; whither now Would ye be wafted? From which quarter should Those breezes blow enabling you to reach The desired haven?
Theron
We don’t know that, because We don’t know where we are.
Elpenor
We’re here now.
Glaucus
We’re downright weary o’ pulling Across head winds!
Circe
But which of you is leader? Which one doth stand for steering and shrewd guidance?
Elpenor
He stopp’d outside.
Phorbas
We thought he enter’d with us; but once inside, We miss’d him.
Circe
What he hath miss’d he knows not. I shall send Mikkos to fetch him.
Glaucus
Our leader, lady, Is a good careful man, yet over wary Of women or witchcraft. So soon he caught the strain Of the song you sang it paralyzed him.
Circe
Ah!
Glaucus
Were he here now, he could not look you Square in the face, as I do.
[Glaucus is gazing at Circe admiringly.]
Elpenor
He might see That brass snake on her arm.
Glaucus
He would abhor The arm worse than the serpent.
Circe
Is then my arm So frightful?
Theron
The arm’s all right, ma’am; but there’s something wrong About Eurylochus.
Circe
So; Eurylochus is your leader?
Glaucus
Only a bit Backward about leading, when he scents A woman in the wind.
Circe
And he would fear Us hospitable maidens?—and, we trust, Of aspect not forbidding.
Theron
O, it’s all one About the aspect. You could tree him, ma’am, As quick as the giant’s daughter.
Circe
The giant’s daughter?
Theron
Yes, ma’am; we landed lately on a lot Of bloody cannibals—this big gal first; And Eurylochus took to a tree.
Elpenor
[Pointing to Phorbas] He climb’d up too.
Circe
What! does your friend fear women also?
Theron
O no, ma’am. Phorb’s a trifle timid like, Whether it’s a he or she. You see, it’s this way: Phorb was a-fear’d, because she was so large; And Eurylochus, because she was a lady.
Circe
She was a lady then?
Phorbas
She laid out Theron When he made up to her.
Theron
I had half a mind To make pork chop o’ the bloomin’ hussy!—Ye gods! This meat-knife here does hang plumb heavy For an after-dinner appendage.
[He detaches the cleaver from his belt and lays it on the table, at the same time loosening the belt.]
I don’t want The dang’d thing dangling at my haunches when The dancing begins.
Elpenor
When does it begin, Theron?
Theron
Split me if I know! There’s a raft more drinks On the tapis yet.
Circe
My friends, I shall soon show you A new dance call’d the four-step.
Several Voices
Hi, hi! Hip, hip! [They pound on the table with their cups.]
Theron
Ha, ha! The four-step; two-and-two two-step: That means partners!
[He leers again at Philinna, drains his cup and waves it toward her.—Other men seem to pay increased attention to the nymphs serving them.]
Glaucus
[Admiringly, but unsteadily] Do you dance it, madam, yourself?
Circe
O no; but Mikkos knows it.
[Here the ape slowly raises himself by the hands until all four extremities rest upon the arms of the chair, remaining a moment or two in this position before lowering himself.]
Theron
Would you mind, ma’am, Letting that there young miss step over here to take The place of this one?
[He points to Philinna and indicates Thermia behind him with his left thumb over the shoulder.]
Elpenor
[Parenthetically] Don’t take her away!
Circe
A moment, sir; I have some present need of her. One choicest cordial I have not yet brought To your attention. In my island only The vintage can be stored.—A jar, Philinna; Here on my table.
Philinna
Do you mean, my lady, The wine which for ourselves alone we press?
Circe
Yes, child; these are no every-day arrivals; go!
[Philinna goes out at Right 2. The other nymphs present, except Myrto and Thermia, leave the room quietly and unobservedly, closing the Left central door. Theron’s song begins as Philinna disappears. The refrain and chorus are joined in by all the men except Elpenor and Phorbas, who look at each other and laugh.]
Theron
[Sings; still looking toward the door where Philinna went out.]
It was a stout sailor who cook’d for the crew;
All
Sing yo, heave yo!
Theron
A-shedding salt tears while he season’d the stew.
All
A-shedding salt tears while he season’d the stew. Sing yo, heave yo, on the briny!
Theron
Salt tears for the sweetheart that jilted him last;
All
Sing yo, heave yo!
Theron
And the onions he peel’d made ’em fall thick and fast.
All
And the onions he peel’d made ’em fall thick and fast. Sing yo, heave yo, on the briny!
Circe
[To Glaucus] Would that song paralyze your leader, sir?
Glaucus
The allusion would prick him, madam; depend upon it.—
[Turning to Theron] One more, Thee,—till she’s back with the bitters.
Theron
[Sings] One fine morning the pudding-bag busted a flap;
All
Sing yo, heave yo!
Theron
So he boil’d the noon mess in his greasy cook’s cap.
[Here Theron takes his cap from his head and lays it over a plate.]
All
So he boil’d the noon mess in his greasy cook’s cap. Sing yo, heave yo, on the briny!
Theron
“For God’s sake,” cried the captain, “what’s struck the plum-duff?”
All
Sing yo, heave yo!
Theron
“We don’t need hogs’ bristles to flavor the stuff!”
All
“We don’t need hogs’ bristles to flavor the stuff!” Sing yo, heave yo, on the briny!
[With the last chorus Philinna re-enters bearing a punch-bowl of elegant pattern, smaller than the one on the sideboard at the opposite end of the room. She places the bowl upon the table before Circe, while the men become silent as they look on.]
Myrto
My lady, may Mikkos have a drop?
[At these words the ape begins to draw himself up by the hands again. Circe nods assent to Myrto.]
Circe
Philinna!
[Philinna fills a cup from the bowl and hands it to the ape. She also sets a small cup of wine before Circe. Mikkos drains the beaker, holding it with both hands and throwing his head very far back; and while the eyes of all the men are directed toward him with amused attention Circe, opening a very small silver casket that hangs at her girdle, takes a fine powder therefrom and quickly throws it into the bowl. She draws the wand nearer to her hand.]
Circe
Thermia!
[At the word, Thermia passes up to Circe’s table and she and Philinna, filling pitchers from Circe’s bowl, proceed to refill the cups of the banqueters in regular order, Thermia from left to right, Philinna from right to left. Then as they meet at the centre both the nymphs retire together to the extreme Right near Circe. Meanwhile the sombre figure of Graea the Swine-maiden is discovered lurking in the corridor behind the Right central doorway.]
Circe
[Raising her cup] To the health of your backward leader, my brave guests!
Glaucus
[Half-rising; unsteadily] Out, out! To hostess, hostess! Here’s to hostess!
[All drink; and the effects of the drug straightway become apparent. An expression of stupefaction and horror passes over the faces of the men. They look at each other vacantly with forced smiles; their heads and arms sway and droop; they swing round in their seats and are evidently unconscious of their situation. At the first symptoms of this delirium the Enchantress rises deliberately from her throne, wand in hand; and gliding along the line toward the Left taps lightly and quickly each man with the wand without pausing in her course. Then she steps upon the dais.]
Circe
[Sternly; with wand pointed upward and back toward the Right centre]
Hence to the sty! your proper shapes assume!
[Directly Graea, who during Circe’s movements has stridden noiselessly into the room and has passed along its edge behind Thermia and Philinna and the Enchantress’ throne until in front of the other table near the point where Phorbas sits, raises her long whip and cracks it fiercely with sharp detonation at the men’s feet. In a huddle they rush tumultuously away with drooping heads and arms to the open rear doorway and out through it, passing in front of Myrto and her wheel and followed by Graea lashing furiously. Some of the fugitives, as they drop on all fours near the exit, are seen to have already developed curly pigs’ tails at their posteriors. As the victims rush forth Mikkos springs upon the empty throne of Circe and balancing himself upon its arms gazes intently into the bowl on the table before him, while Myrto sets her wheel revolving and humming loudly. The drop-curtain falls just as the door closes behind the herd and Graea disappearing over the corridor.]
The several positions at the fall of the curtain are as follows: Circe stands upon the dais with wand raised in the attitude described. Myrto sits at her wheel, which turns more and more slowly as the curtain descends. Philinna and Thermia stand near the boudoir, still holding their pitchers, the hand of one girl resting on the other’s shoulder. Mikkos, poised upon Circe’s chair, his head lower than his tail, pores intently over the punch-bowl. No person exhibits signs of amusement or excitement of any sort. Their faces are serene, their figures motionless. The wheel comes to a standstill just as the descending curtain hides it.
VII
The same as Scenes III and V. The Seashore. Eurylochus is still seated on the stone by the ship, gloomy and dejected. The other men stand in a group not far from him, apparently discussing some serious proposal.
First Sailor
Anyway he ordered us to stay here and guard the ship.
Philemon
Just so; I believe in obeying orders myself; but, lads, this is an extraordinary case.
Second Sailor
A case it is! But the commander’s equal to it I reckon.
Xenias
The commander’s equal to anything on a square deal. But it’s odds here against one man; he’ll need help if the land lies the way the mate makes it out.
Eurylochus
[Turning and facing the others without rising]
Are ye all mad, and will not lay to heart The sights and sounds of foul bedevilment Haunting this cursed island? Will ye follow Into the pit the steps of that rash man, Foolhardy Ulysses?—the same who prick’d us on To explore the ogre’s cavern, where six brave men Were sever’d limbmeal and devour’d!
Several Voices
Out! out!
Xenias
Bother the ogre! The commander’s started now to pull half the ship’s company out of a hole and if a human subject could compass the business he’s it. But if there’s a dash of witchcraft here, we ought to be with him and shoulder our share.
First Sailor
Ay, ay! that’s the talk!
Eurylochus
What signifies mere number, when mortal wills Clash with uncanny spirits? It is all over With him and them!—We are enough to row Our galley launch’d and from these shores deliver’d.
Several Voices
Ho, shame! shame!
Philemon
Mark my words, lads; if the other fellows have got to trot round in wolf and tiger skins we’re bound to go on all fours along with ’em and not leave ’em in the lurch. If the commander’s beating his way back we shall meet him on the trip; if he isn’t, he’ll need help for certain. We’ll walk into that domicile, witch or no witch!
Second Sailor
Take her by storm!
Several Voices
Right, right! Come on! come on!
Xenias
Eurylochus here’ll stand shipguard. He won’t shove her off all alone I reckon.
Philemon
Take up your traps now! Lively!
[The men stir about, making ready for their departure.]
Here we go!
[They march away briskly, going out as the other party and Ulysses had gone. Philemon leads; Xenias brings up the rear, watchfully.]
Xenias
[Turning back, at the last moment]
Don’t let her fly away, old man; If you hear hell howling, it’s us!
[As the party disappears Eurylochus with a gesture of despair flings himself down by the keel of the vessel.]
VIII
A grove upon sloping ground near Circe’s palace. Large trees cast deep shadows with sunny spaces between. The mansion itself is not visible; but on the Left at some elevation a glimpse is afforded of the court-yard wall. A faint pathway amid shrubbery winds from the Right front upward and out on the Left at the rear.
Enter Ulysses at the Right, tracing the path slowly and cautiously. Perceiving the wall above and before him he pauses, moves his right hand involuntary toward his sword-hilt and lifts the left to his lips meditatively. While he thus stands reconnoitering and pondering, Mercury suddenly appears before him, stepping noiselessly from the shadow of a tree upon the Left. At this apparition Ulysses draws back an instant with head slightly bowed, while his hand leaves the sword and is lifted to a reverential gesture. The demeanor of Mercury is easy and gracious. His insignia, though plainly recognizable, are less conspicuous and brilliant than they appeared in Scene II.
Mercury
[Taking the up-lifted hand of Ulysses]
Whither now, fate-worn wanderer, whither tending Thread’st thou the dim paths of this briery steep? What region holds thee or perchance what guile Lurks in its mazy folds, wouldst thou not prove?— Ere to that dome ascending, where in foul sties Thy luckless comrades grovel now and groan, To swinish shape by the enchantress changed!
[As the god speaks he withdraws his hand and indicates the direction of the palace. Ulysses recoils slightly at the last words of Mercury.]
One only, so minded that in Circe’s song He read the bane it glozed, did value well His safety and proclaim’d their loss.—Whom thou Aimest forsooth to rescue and redeem! Rather methinks the porcine couch to share With them and vanish from men, came not Some guardian hand between.—But lo! there grows An antidote—a good drug, that shall check The baleful magic of her potions.
[Mercury pulls from the ground, moving aside the undergrowth which concealed it, a small plant and shows it to Ulysses.]
See! Black at the root, milk-white the flower; ’tis moly: So to the immortals known; of men, scarce found.
[Ulysses receives the herb from the hand of the god with an air of profound attention and a shade of wonder.]
Now may thy steps to yon weird mansion mount And tread its halls unscathed, Ulysses, if My mandate thou shalt heed and ponder well.
[Ulysses shifts his attentive regard from the plant in his hand to the speaker.]
Her song will thrill thee, but the transforming spell Shall break before the potent herb thou holdest. Undaunted wilt thou enter; nor be shamed If thy quick pulses bound when Circe’s glance Encounters thine, and the soft audible charm Of low-voiced invitation laps thee round. Thou may’st admire and still be master. Straight With her own hand a fragrant wine-cup filling, When by her side she thrones thee, she will proffer And bid thee drink—it is the poison’d chalice. Yet quaff thou undismay’d, Ulysses. Then, So soon’t is swallow’d and thyself unchanged, Her magic wand wielded in vain, draw thou Swiftly thy sword and rush as if to slay At the enchantress with high-threatening blade.
[Ulysses’ look of wonderment increases as Mercury pauses.]
The issue thou wilt mark. But let not pity Nor the new spell of female blandishment O’ercome thy senses or disarm thy hand, Ere to its mastery yet once more she yields And their true forms to thy changed mates restores.
Ulysses
O gracious Helper, it is thy spirit that guides Where eye of mortal swerves: to whom full oft We pour’d thank-offering at the banquet’s close.
Mercury
Who himself well bethinks, the gods assist. Of drugs and arts uncanny mere human prudence Compasseth not, Ulysses, sure defeat.— But in her craft once baffled, ’tis with the woman, No more the enchantress, thou wilt deal thereafter. Nor are those powers to be despised, which oft Compel a conqueror’s fealty and confuse The sober aims of confident wisdom.
[While Ulysses again looks down reflectively at the plant he holds Mercury suddenly disappears. Ulysses, looking up and seeing the god no longer, throws a keen glance in the direction of the wall. He then tastes and swallows a morsel of the herb; and as he moves on and goes out at the Left with firm step the music of Circe’s song is faintly heard behind the scenes.]
IX
The same as Scenes II and IV. The banquet-hall. The common chairs have been removed. There are cups and a bowl on the table at the Right. The Enchantress and her three nymphs are in their usual places when the curtain rises: Circe sitting; Philinna and Thermia standing; Myrto seated at her wheel which she turns slowly. The attitude of the persons is one of expectancy. In a moment Circe, without turning her face, signs to Myrto with her left hand while with the right she draws the wand on the table nearer. The wheel ceases to revolve.
Circe
Now Thermia!
[Thermia throws open the door behind the dais. An instant later Ulysses enters, slowly but unhesitatingly, pausing as he stands on the platform exactly where Mercury stood in Scene II. His look is directed straight at the Enchantress. His right arm is crossed downward upon his breast, the hand under the mantle. A trace of wonder or fascination passes over his face on meeting Circe’s gaze, while a similar feeling of surprise is for a moment betrayed by her also. As she speaks she rises from her chair.]
Circe
Welcome, sir leader!
[Ulysses bows slightly. He does not remove his helmet.]
Thou art Too far by thine own men outstripp’d, even though Their famish’d weary members sought repose Prompt and appropriate.
[Ulysses bends his look more sternly upon the speaker.]
Pray advance; and take From our own hand, though proffer’d late, Cordial refreshment.
[He moves slowly forward. Philinna draws well back the throne of Circe and presents the other one. With a gracious gesture Circe waves Ulysses toward the second throne. He passes in front of her and seats himself. She sits again, served by Philinna.]
Thy silence augurs much Of rude unfriendly greetings and rebuff Elsewhere.
[While speaking she fills a beaker from the bowl.]
But here are restful words and welcome Right hospitable.
[Her right hand closes firmly over the wand, while with the left she presents the cup.]
So drink and be at peace!
[Still keeping his eye fixed upon Circe, Ulysses raises the cup to his lips and drains it. Immediately the gracious look of the Enchantress changes. Rising partly in her seat and bending forward, she strikes him smartly with her wand and holds it threateningly as she speaks.]
Circe
Hence to the sty! Go, join thy wallowing mates!
[Instantly, feeling that the potion has not harmed him, Ulysses springs erect, swiftly draws his sword and raising it aloft rushes upon the Enchantress as if to kill her. With a loud cry she starts back, causing the throne to slide away behind her; then dropping her wand she springs forward under the threatening sword-arm in suppliant attitude. Philinna, at first shrinking back in terror, directly as Circe falls at Ulysses’ feet follows her; and kneeling, shelters her mistress’ head with her right arm, while the left is raised in deprecating gesture. At the same time Thermia starts a step forward with her right hand lifted, the left pressed to her bosom. Myrto, after a first look of alarm, reaches behind her and throws open the Left rear door, where Mikkos appears. He seems excited. Myrto seizes his chain. At the Right rear entrance, Graea is seen glaring furtively into the room.—Circe speaks as Ulysses seems to hesitate to strike the fatal blow.]
Circe
What man art thou? What mortal hath this wonder Unheard of wrought, these potions to abide? For never, never did other lips unblighted Press the drugg’d bowl, save thine!—Ah, yes; ’twas true: Ulysses thou art, whom Mercury foretold, From Trojan field thy lone bark homeward steering. He, he hath found thee moly! And I thought It were Eurylochus, whom his followers named; The craven, the woman-hater!
[Ulysses lowers his weapon, still grasping it firmly. His stern look relaxes slightly as Circe and Philinna, kneeling, lift their faces to him with aspect softened to the expression of pleading. Thermia steps nearer, intently observing the scene; while Graea, entering the room, and Myrto, holding Mikkos’ chain, also move slightly forward. At this juncture all of the persons have come to form nearly a single group.]
Circe
O Ulysses! Thrice valiant, thrice in wisdom proved, not thee Would Circe in foul brutal shape behold; But as thou art!—Return, return thy sword To its safe cover!
[Ulysses steps back a pace, and Circe rises to her feet, holding the hand of Philinna who has risen first.]
What use have we for war, Whom fate and fortune fashion’d to be friends?
[With deliberation Ulysses sheathes his sword, falling back still farther. Circe and Philinna move forward toward him.]
Thermia
Happy are they who find a friend in Circe, Sir stranger!
[His countenance remains unmoved as he divides his attention between Circe and Thermia after a suspicious glance at Mikkos and Graea.]
Circe
Nay, doubt not, but be refresh’d!
[She signs to Thermia, who shows Ulysses to the throne which Mercury had occupied in Scene II. As he sits he doffs his helmet, which Thermia receives and hangs upon the wall. Circe resumes her seat. She speaks while Thermia serves Ulysses at the other table.]
And be thy mind at rest. No more of drifting On the dark seas; sure knowledge shall illume The pathways of thy homeward voyage, Ulysses.
[A pause. With troubled look he barely tastes what is set before him.]
Ah, weary heart! why thus Sit’st thou all-speechless, tasting not the food Set guileless by thy hand? Believ’st thou not My plain assurance and changed mood? Dost hold The word of Circe in no honor because With cunning art she baffles and disarms The unworthy false petitioner?
Ulysses
Fair Circe, dread enchantress, what true man Could eat and be at comfort, whilst he knows His trusty comrades lie imprison’d, bent low To bestial habit?—Nay, if thy alter’d mien Harbors indeed the good-will it portends, Then first let me behold my men restored To their own shapes. No falsehood stamp’d their errand, Nor undeserving were they in themselves.
Circe
Deserve those well of their commander, who lose His very name and tidings from their thoughts?
Ulysses
Another led them; and, the leader failing, The follower who forgets may be forgiven.
Circe
Eurylochus wins slight mercy by that word.
Ulysses
Eurylochus won the birthright of the wary.
Circe
A father art thou to thy men, Ulysses: Even as I guard with jealous motherly eye The welfare of these nymphs. Nor hast thou long To wait, ere the whole frolic throng shall make My portals ring with greetings of their captain. Not those alone whom we repress’d and punish’d And for thy sake will pardon, but likewise they Who tarry by the shore—for well I know Wily Ulysses staked not all his forces On a forlorn wild venture.—Nay, doubt not; Even Eurylochus shall be reconciled! Go, Graea; Myrto; seek the ship, and teach them The way to find us. Leave not one unbidden!
Ulysses
Great Circe, I will trust thee; ’tis sore need! By thy sage guidance, or in no wise, we reach The desired haven.
Circe
[To Myrto and Graea who have hesitated as if awaiting further command. They go out at Right C, accompanied by Mikkos.]
Speed now! the shadow creeps Well past the noontide mark. Away, away!— Noble Ulysses, thou shalt soon behold them.— But first, my Thermia, show our gracious guest The bathing chambers, where by warm showers assuaged His long sea-weariness may release him.
[Ulysses bows to Circe. He unslings his sword, which Thermia receives and hangs up near the helmet. She then conducts him out at Left 2. At the same moment when Ulysses puts off his sword, Philinna lifts Circe’s wand from the floor where it had fallen.]
Philinna
[Handing the wand to Circe, who receives it as it were unconsciously]
O dearest lady! What chance, what change befalls us? O! how dared That strange, still man to lift his dreadful sword As if to kill you? Are his devices stronger Than your own arts? O, how could you pretend To cherish and befriend him!
Circe
Nay, Philinna: I am not feigning. Oft had I mused and ponder’d On Mercury’s warning and Ulysses’ name. Nor did I dread his coming. But strange haps Disturb’d my vision and I knew him not. My potions could indeed avail no longer, Their cure and antidote once found. Yet never Into unworthy hands do gods resign Their priceless secrets. No; I would not harm A man so strong and wise! It is the first!— Now go, Philinna, and lay my simples ready, Which for the counter-charm I shall employ, To change his comrades back.
[Philinna, who looks wonderingly at Circe and seems hardly to comprehend her demeanor, withdraws slowly, going out at Right 2. Circe casts a glance where Ulysses had gone out; then, looking down at the wand held loosely in her hand, soliloquizes.]
Yes, yes; there is No falsehood on the lip, when the heart guides To new unwonted utterance, though it seem All former strains and strivings to belie. His coming I fear’d not; I rather craved To behold the promised visitor whose shrewd wit Should test my powers of magic and perchance Turn them (as hath befallen) from woe to weal For him and his. Yet till I saw I doubted; Nor knew, first seeing.
[She clasps her hands at her back, holding the wand behind her.]
O, there is a way Surer than any drug, to bind wise hearts! Wielding no wand of transformation, but With fine invisible weapons to o’ercome His might who seems to conquer; and reveal What weakness lurks beneath. And Circe’s arts (Which sooner aim to hinder than to harm) Shall still fail not!
[Re-enter Thermia, who begins to put the table in order where Ulysses had been served.]
Fair Thermia, we shall need Straightway new-garnish’d tables and the plenty Of a redoubled evening banquet. Soon That eager company, Myrto’s charge, will troop Past porch and threshold to the expected board— Not indisposed, I fancy, toward such welcome.— Ay, forthwith, Thermia!
[Thermia sounds a whistle which hangs at her girdle, and other nymphs enter and proceed to deck the tables.]
Even our guest, their captain, Will find his zest, when in good sooth he sees His two ship-companies made one.—Ah, there; Even now they come!
[A clambering and murmur are heard. The door leading from the porch flies open, and Ulysses’ company, headed by Philemon and Xenias, enter precipitately, though not in rude disorder, their faces beaming with the excitement of wonder and expectancy. Circe stands at her usual place, holding the wand with her hands clasped in front of her, and Philinna appears at the door behind. Thermia and her helpers desist from their task at the tables as the men enter, and draw back near the exits. The nymphs stand motionless and placid during the remainder of the scene, taking no part in the action and unnoticed by the other persons.]
Philemon
Madam, we’re a bit unceremonious, no doubt. But our errand’s an urgent one; and we encountered an invitation after a manner, if there be no mistake about it.
Circe
All ceremony shall be waived, good sir. What hap Fosters this urgency?
Philemon
We’re Ulysses’ men, lady! come to seek him and deliver him—by your leave. He cast off alone when the leader of the other watch came back from here in such a blue funk; and he ordered us to wait for him by the ship. But we felt a trifle uneasy, after that yarn of snakes and fireworks Eurylochus spun for us, and followed to help. We’d nigh about made the top, when we met your two maids, ma’am, and the monkey. We knew they must hail from some witch-pen or other for certain, when we spied such a bunch of triplets, and we veered off a point or two at first; but the little black-eyed one—she as had the ape in tow—spoke us so fair and told such a straight story, how the commander was safe and sound and everybody happy up here, and you had sent specially to invite us, that we felt mighty encouraged to believe her and headed straight for the top again, while they went down to fetch Eurylochus;—especially seeing we had made up our minds—begging your pardon again, lady—to effect an entrance anyway.—But where is he?
Circe
Your entrance had been barr’d nowise, when once You had named Ulysses—which your mates forgot, And came to grief thereby.—But you shall see him. There hangs his sword, his helm. He comes; he has heard you!
[Ulysses enters at Left 2 behind the group of men, who turn quickly. His appearance is imposing, his dress brilliant.]
Circe
For me, I have another Business to set on foot.—Philinna; ready?
[Philinna signs affirmatively, and as Ulysses greets his men Circe goes out at Right 2, Philinna remaining at the doorway.]
Ulysses
Xenias! good Philemon!
[All throng about their commander with hand-shaking and joyous exclamations.]
Philemon
’Tis you? You are here, sir?—and all right! ’Twas a true tale, then, by the great gods!
Ulysses
Ah, you see I slipt not.
Xenias
But it wasn’t long before we slipt after you! Mind you, sir, we didn’t wait for the summons.
Ulysses
’Twas a pardonable impatience, I acknowledge.
[A voice raised in sharp tone of command, followed by a sudden uproar, is heard behind the scenes. Circe enters quickly at Right C, with her wand raised high, which as she comes in she lowers and points backward. Both the rear doors fly open. In their proper persons the men who were changed to swine burst in abruptly upon the scene, one or two or three at a time, stopping and gazing about them with puzzled and amazed expression. They rub their eyes or tap their foreheads, till gradually recollecting themselves they recognize their situation. The restored men seem to have gained in comeliness; their faces are fresh, their clothing is new, presenting a contrast to the well-worn garments of the other party. Theron appears even stouter than before; his cook’s cap and dress are dazzling white. Elpenor, near him, has become sleeker, though no less slender than ever. All the men are serious; and the re-transformed exhibit profound emotion, weeping as they recognize their companions and the commander. The meeting is an occasion rather for action than for speech: its words are chiefly outcries and the ejaculation of familiar names. The throng becomes more calm and quiet when the Enchantress, who has herself been visibly moved, at length speaks, standing at the head of her table.]
Circe
Cease; cease, good men! Enough of tears! Yield now To the bright hour; and from your much-tried hearts Let present peace and comfort rub away The black unhandsome stains of foul mischance. Here stand ye face to face and hand to hand, Unscathed, unconquer’d. Winds and wild seas and all The weary thankless strain of laboring oar, Duress and guile and hostile rude encounter, Have but conspired to point you to the fairest Of restful shores.—Ulysses, in good time, After due respite, if thou cravest still Some farther convoy, ’tis secure. But now Mirth, pleasure, shall prevail.—Only there lacks Yet one I would fain welcome, though himself Of faint reciprocation.
Ulysses
Gracious lady, I am confident that Eurylochus will conclude to join us when once informed of our situation and finding himself left permanently alone.
Xenias
Belike he may take to the woods, your honor, when the triplets heave in sight.
Circe
O, Mikkos will manage that!
Elpenor
Eurylochus climbs trees.
Theron
Avast there! Mikkos is the monkey. Hast left thy memory in the hog-pen, boy?
Glaucus
[Who has been on the lookout] Sail ho! They are boarding the gangway already, ma’am.
[Enter from the porch Myrto, leading Mikkos; then Eurylochus; Graea behind him. The mate advances hesitatingly, but is closely followed up by the swine-maiden. As he perceives Ulysses and the men his expression is partly of relief, partly of shamefacedness. His alarm has not entirely left him, but he casts shy and suspicious glances toward Circe while Myrto speaks.]
Myrto
We have fetched him, my lady, though I believe he never would have been caught if there had not been three of us together. We found him down by the little bay where their ship is drawn ashore; and when he saw us he started to run into the water. But Graea waded out farther than he dared to go. Then he climbed up into the fig-tree; but Mikkos climbed up still higher, so he had to come down directly where I was standing close to the roots of it; although he seemed to fear me the most of all.
Elpenor
[Interrupting] You turn the whirligig.
Myrto
We had him between us now, where he couldn’t get away; and I assured him the captain was safe, and told him how we had just met a party of his companions and invited them for you. For all that he didn’t want to come; but Graea stood close behind him and kept walking until we got him here.
[The men do not laugh at Eurylochus, though some smile faintly, and Circe is visibly amused.]
Ulysses
[Seriously] Eurylochus, all is well. Be thyself again. Bygones shall be bygones. There is naught to fear.
Circe
Indeed, sir, it is as your commander says. There is naught to fear; and all is well, now that you have deigned to make up the perfect number of my company, so the entertainment may proceed. The tables are ready garnished, waiting for the viands only. You shall all find seats.
[All the men except Eurylochus seat themselves in a quiet and orderly manner at both tables without discrimination of the two watches. Ulysses sits at the head of the table by the dais. Myrto and Graea have withdrawn to the back of the room. Circe, still standing, claps her hands and the nymphs at the exits disappear, to bring the courses.]
Eurylochus
You make occasional exceptions no doubt, madam; nevertheless I would take my oath upon it that that was once a man!
[He points at Mikkos, who, released by Myrto, has just jumped into his chair by Circe as she seats herself. The ape shows his teeth and begins to raise himself by the hands.]
Circe
[Laughing] That was a manful thinker once. Sit; sit, kind sir!
[The curtain falls as Eurylochus takes his seat near Ulysses amid a buzz of merriment.]
END OF FIRST ACT