I wash'd. The table in fair order spread,
They heap the glittering canisters with bread;
Viands of various kinds allure the taste,
Of choicest sort and savour, rich repast!
Circè in vain invites the feast to share;
Absent I ponder, and absorb'd in care:
While scenes of woe rose anxious in my breast,
The queen beheld me, and these words address'd-
"Why sits Ulysses silent and apart,
Some hoard of grief close-harbour'd at his heart?
Untouch'd before thee stand the cates divine,
And unregarded laughs the rosy wine.
Can yet a doubt, or any dread remain,
When sworn that oath which never can be vain?"
"I answer'd, "Goddess! humane is thy breast,
By justice sway'd, by tender pity press'd:
Ill fits it me, whose friends are sunk to beasts,
To quaff thy bowls, or riot in thy feasts.

Me wouldst thou please? for them thy cares employ,

And them to me restore, and me to joy."

With that, she parted: in her potent hand She bore the virtue of the magic wand.

Then hastening to the styes, set wide the door,
Urged forth, and drove the bristly herd before;
Unwieldy, out they rush'd, with general cry,
Enormous beasts dishonest to the eye.
Now touch'd by countercharms, they change
again,

And stand majestic, and recall'd to men.
Those hairs of late that bristled every part,

Fall off; miraculous effect of art!

Till all the form in full proportion rise,

More young, more large, more graceful to my eyes.

They saw, they knew me, and with eager pace
Clung to their master in a long embrace;

Sad, pleasing sight! with tears each eye ran o'er,
And sobs of joy reechoed through the bower:
E'en Circè wept, her adamantine heart
Felt pity enter, and sustain'd her part.

"Son of Laertes! (then the queen began)
Oh much enduring, much experienced man!
Haste to thy vessel on the seabeat shore,
Unload thy treasures, and the galley moor:
Then bring thy friends, secure from future harms,
And in our grottos stow thy spoils and arms.”

'She said. Obedient to her high command I quit the place, and hasten to the strand, My sad companions on the beach I found, Their wistful eyes in floods of sorrow drown'd. As from fresh pastures and the dewy field (When loaded cribs their evening banquet yield) The lowing herds return; around them throng With leaps and bounds their late imprison'd young, Rush to their mothers with unruly joy, And echoing hills return the tender cry; So round me press'd, exulting at my sight, With cries and agonies of wild delight, The weeping sailors; nor less fierce their joy Than if return'd to Ithaca from Troy.

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Ah, master! ever honour'd, ever dear (These tender words on every side I hear), What other joy can equal thy return? Not that loved country for whose sight we mourn, The soil that nursed us, and that gave us breath: But, ah! relate our lost companions' death."

I answer'd cheerful-" Haste, your galley

moor,

And bring our treasures and our arms ashore ;

Those in yon hollow caverns let us lay;
Then rise and follow where I lead the way.
Your fellows live: believe your eyes and come
To taste the joys of Circè's sacred dome."

With ready speed the joyful crew obey: Alone Eurylochus persuades their stay. "Whither (he cried), ah, whither will ye run? Seek ye to meet those evils ye should shun? Will you the terrors of the dome explore, In swine to grovel, or in lions roar,

Or wolf-like howl away the midnight hour
In dreadful watch around the magic bower?
Remember Cyclops, and his bloody deed;
The leader's rashness made the soldiers bleed."

I heard incensed, and first resolved to speed My flying falchion at the rebel's head.

Dear as he was, by ties of kindred bound, This hand had stretch'd him breathless on the ground;

But all at once my interposing train

For mercy pleaded, nor could plead in vain.
"Leave here the man who dares his prince desert,
Leave to repentance and his own sad heart,
To guard the ship. Seek we the sacred shades
Of Circe's palace, where Ulysses leads."

'This with one voice declared, the rising train
Left the black vessel by the murmuring main.
Shame touch'd Eurylochus's alter'd breast,
He fear'd my threats, and follow'd with the rest.

Meanwhile the goddess, with indulgent cares And social joys, the late transform'd repairs; The bath, the feast, their fainting soul renews; Rich in refulgent robes, and dropping balmy dews:

Brightening with joy their eager eyes behold
Each other's face, and each his story told;
Then gushing tears the narrative confound,
And with their sobs the vaulted roofs resound.
When hush'd their passion, thus the goddess cries:
"Ulysses, taught by labours to be wise,
Let this short memory of grief suffice.
To me are known the various woes ye bore,
In storms by sea, in perils on the shore;
Forget whatever was in fortune's power,
And share the pleasures of this genial hour.
Such be your minds as ere ye left
your coast,
Or learn'd to sorrow for a country lost.
Exiles and wanderers now, where'er ye go,
Too faithful memory renews your woe:
The cause renew'd, habitual griefs remain,
And the soul saddens by the use of pain."

Her kind entreaty moved the general breast;
Tired with long toil, we willing sunk to rest.
We plied the banquet and the bowl we crown'd,
Till the full circle of the year came round.
But when the seasons, following in their train,
Brought back the months, the days, and hours
again;

As from a lethargy at once they rise,

And urge their chief with animating cries.
"Is this, Ulysses, our inglorious lot?
And is the name of Ithaca forgot?
Shall never the dear land in prospect rise,
Or the loved palace glitter in our eyes?"

Melting I heard; yet still the sun's decline Prolong❜d the feast, and quaff'd the rosy wine: But when the shades came on at evening hour, And all lay slumbering in the dusky bower;

I came a suppliant to fair Circè's bed,
The tender moment seized, and thus I said—
"Be mindful, goddess, of thy promise made;
Must sad Ulysses ever be delay'd?

Around their lord my sad companions mourn,
Each breast beats homeward, anxious to return;
If but a moment parted from thy eyes,
Their tears flow round me, and my heart complies."
"Go then (she cried), ah, go! yet think, not I,
Not Circè, but the Fates your wish deny.
Ah, hope not yet to breathe thy native air!
Far other journey first demands thy care;
To tread the' uncomfortable paths beneath,
And view the realms of darkness and of death.
There seek the Theban bard, deprived of sight;
Within, irradiate with prophetic light;
To whom Persephone, entire and whole,
Gave to retain the' unseparated soul:
The rest are forms of empty ether made;
Impassive semblance, and a flitting shade."

Struck at the word, my very heart was dead;
Pensive I sat; my tears bedew'd the bed;
To hate the light and life my soul begun,
And saw that all was grief beneath the sun.
Composed at length, the gushing tears suppress'd,
And my toss'd limbs now wearied into rest,
"How shall I tread (I cried), ah, Circè! say,
The dark descent, and who shall guide the way?
Can living eyes behold the realms below?
What bark to waft me, and what wind to blow ?"
"Thy fated road (the magic power replied),
Divine Ulysses! asks no mortal guide.
Rear but the mast, the spacious sail display,
The northern winds shall wing thee on thy way.