path: root/78211-0.txt

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78211 ***




                                   CIRCE

                                    _A
                             Dramatic Fantasy_

                                   _by_
                                ISAAC FLAGG

                            With a Frontispiece
                                    by
                              Bernard Maybeck

                                 Copyright
                                   1915
                              By Isaac Flagg

                          Acting Rights Reserved




[Illustration]




_To_

MABEL LAMMÉ HAYS


    _Rarest of enchantment deem_
      _The beginning and the end:_
    _At life’s morning in the dream,_
      _At life’s evening in the friend._




  PRINTED AND BOUND BY
  THE ROYCROFTERS        [Illustration]
  EAST AURORA, NEW YORK




[Illustration]




THE ARGUMENT


Homer relates that Ulysses, king of Ithaca in Greece, sailing homeward
after the capture of Troy, drifted into unknown seas in consequence of
the wrath of Neptune; and after losing all but one of his twelve ships,
landed with the sole remaining vessel upon the island of the enchantress
Circe, who transformed one-half of his ship’s company, twenty-two in
number, into swine. He relates further that Ulysses, apprised by Mercury
of the fate of his companions, and furnished by the god with an antidote
for the spells of the sorceress, compelled her to restore his men to
their human shape. Thereupon, at the invitation of Circe the rest of the
crew join their mates at her palace, where all spend a year in festivity
and merry-making before proceeding on their way with precise instructions
from the Enchantress regarding the homeward voyage.

The experiences of Ulysses and his followers, as described in the
Odyssey, immediately previous to their arrival at the Isle of Circe,
had been of an extraordinary and alarming character. A number of men
had been devoured by Polyphemus the Cyclops in his cave, where he had
entrapped a party, the survivors escaping by riding out, clasped under
the bellies of his sheep, after they had made the monster drunk and
blinded his one eye with a fiery stake. Later, they came to the domain of
Æolus, king of the winds, who presented Ulysses with a number of bags
holding the adverse winds in confinement. But during the sleep of their
commander, when already near their native shore, some of the men through
curiosity untying the bags, the winds broke loose and swept them back to
Æolus, who drove them all forth with contempt. They next encountered the
Læstrygones, a race of man-eating giants. Being shown the way to the town
by a daughter of the giant king, some men were seized and devoured on the
spot; while from an attack made upon the ships collected in the harbor
only one vessel succeeded in escaping.

No mention is made of Penelope, the wife of Ulysses, at any point in
the story of Circe; but we read that Ulysses lingered in the enchanted
island, until his men were finally compelled, seizing an opportunity when
Circe was away, to remonstrate with their chief and rouse him to thoughts
of a return to his home.

Homer says that the attendants of the Enchantress in her palace were
nymphs, such as derive their being from the fountains, the groves, and
the rivers flowing to the sea.

The First Act of the play brings Ulysses and his companions into Circe’s
palace; the Second Act takes them out of it.

[Illustration]




[Illustration]

CIRCE

_A Dramatic Fantasy_




[Illustration]




PERSONS REPRESENTED


    CIRCE, the Enchantress
    PHILINNA   }
    THERMIA    } Nymphs, companions and attendants to Circe
    MYRTO      }
    THRATTIS, the lute-girl
    GRAEA, the dumb swine-maiden
    Other nymphs attending Circe
    MIKKOS, an ape
    ULYSSES, a Commander
    EURYLOCHUS, his mate
    THERON, the ship’s cook
    ELPENOR, a feeble-minded youth, the cook’s assistant
    GLAUCUS    }
    PHORBAS    }
    PHILEMON   } Sailors
    XENIAS     }
    Other members of Ulysses’ ship’s-company
    MERCURY, Messenger of the Immortals and Luck-bringer to men

THE PLACE: _A small woody island, inhabited only by the Enchantress and
her Nymphs, who dwell in a palace at the centre and summit of the isle._




[Illustration: CIRCE]




[Illustration: ACT ONE]

[Illustration: THE FIRST ACT]


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




[Illustration: ACT TWO]

[Illustration: THE SECOND ACT]


I

The back of CIRCE’S palace, late in the afternoon, one year later than
the occurrences of the First Act. The back of the building lies toward
the setting sun, whose declining rays are now intercepted and softened
into shade by foliage and flitting clouds. The pale yellow walls and tall
narrow windows and the one central entrance on this side are not obscured
by vines and trailing plants, but cleanly sheltered by a lofty colonnade
which runs the entire length of the edifice, with wide low pavement only
a step higher than the lawn that borders it. The veranda-floor and the
plinth are dewy with freshly sprinkled water. The green sward of the
foreground is varied by flower-beds and dotted with luxuriant trees, a
bower and seats near by. Here there is no fountain; but a streamlet,
issuing from an archway at the Right corner of the palace, winds its
way downward across the flowery slope. A peacock struts and spreads his
fan in one of the open places. Some utterances of persons represented
indicate that the situation affords glimpses of the sea.

There are no suggestions of witchcraft or magic in the present scene.
Where the anterior façade of the palace seemed weird or uncanny, the rear
elevation and its belongings wear rather an idyllic aspect.

The curtain rising discovers three couples severally grouped. Upon the
veranda, at the Left, CIRCE and ULYSSES are seated opposite each other
at a small table, upon which are cups and a vase of flowers, while a
nymph occasionally passes to and fro, serving them with wine from within.
CIRCE is not attired as enchantress. She wears neither her black robe
nor the coronal of pearls. The prevailing color of her Grecian dress is
amethyst, and her hair is loosely confined by a narrow band of gold.—On
the Right, at the farther end of the veranda, PHILEMON and PHILINNA sit
side by side in confidential attitude.—Upon the lawn, in the foreground
near the centre, far enough from the others to converse gently without
being overheard by them, are seen XENIAS and THERMIA: the former seated
carelessly facing sidewise toward the colonnade; the latter standing by a
tall shrub, cutting flowers which she gathers in the fold of her garment.

THERMIA

[_Who stands with her back to the veranda_]

    If you will take a good long look, Xenias, just where you are
    looking now, you will see exactly why you and I are a whole lot
    luckier than some others I might name.

XENIAS

    How is that? What’s the mystification now, Miss Inscrutable? I
    see only what we see every day; and no great signs of bad luck
    about them yet.

THERMIA

    Of course we see it every day! And every day is making it worse
    for them, friend Xenias. Do you suppose they can keep this sort
    of thing up forever?

XENIAS

    Well, what if they can’t? I’ve no doubt the illusion is mighty
    pleasant while it lasts.

THERMIA

    And so much the more painful when it comes to an end—but you
    and I have kept our wits about us, Xenias.

XENIAS

    And have been uncommon good friends all the time, you mean,
    Thermia—Well, I admit it’s the best way. But they don’t think
    so.

THERMIA

    They think of nothing! But it will set them thinking, when the
    time comes for you to sail away.

XENIAS

    If that time ever does come! The commander has got to order
    it; and he doesn’t seem very likely to speak the word until
    your lady orders _him_. It’s true some of the lads are getting
    restive and tired of dilly-dallying, as they call it, here in
    this blessed island!

THERMIA

    Yes, and Graea gives me to understand that Eurylochus is going
    about secretly stirring them up and wants them to put on a bold
    front and demand that something shall be done.

XENIAS

    Ah, so? He hasn’t said a word to me or Philemon. I reckon he
    thinks Philemon and Xenias are in the same box.

THERMIA

    Eurylochus doesn’t know the difference, of course! I shall be
    sorry when you have to go, Xenias; I shall miss you sadly after
    you are gone. But it will simply _kill_ Philinna.

XENIAS

    Well now, what if Philemon should take her home to Ithaca with
    him for his wife? _He_ hasn’t got any Penelope waiting for him
    there.

THERMIA

    O heavens! And do you believe Philinna would ever leave Circe,
    or that Circe would ever let her go?

XENIAS

    And do you believe Philemon would ever leave Philinna behind,
    or that Philinna would ever let him go without her?

THERMIA

    Xenias, it’s a pity about them both—the greatest pity in the
    world! As for Circe, she really admires your captain; great
    men are scarce enough, she says; but Circe will never lose her
    head, even if Ulysses has lost his; nor will either of them be
    quite heart-broken, be sure. But Philinna! Philinna!

[_CIRCE, who has been laughing merrily with ULYSSES, claps her hands
twice._]

    Yes, now; here comes the music they feed on.

[_THERMIA begins to move away as THRATTIS the lute-girl enters from the
palace in response to CIRCE’S summons._]

XENIAS

    But stay, Thermia, and let us hear it.

THERMIA

    O, it will only be the same old songs! Besides, I have my vases
    to fill.

[_She goes out round the Right corner of the building. XENIAS settles
himself in a listening attitude._]

CIRCE

    Thrattis, we need thee still.—’Tis strange, Ulysses,
    How, like some thirst or hunger, each day return
    These tuneful memories!

ULYSSES

                            Yet, fair Circe, charged
    With a more strange forgetfulness of all else
    Than that they celebrate.

CIRCE

    Hist, listen now!

THRATTIS

[_Standing midway between the two couples on the veranda, after a brief
prelude upon her instrument, sings._]

    Forget, forget! Ah, linger not
      By dreams of yesterday!
    Each vanish’d hour shall be forgot,
      Fresh phantasies hold sway.
    No lowlier crown the linden weaves
      Of tassel’d verdure now
    Because the old year’s scatter’d leaves
      Return not to the bough.

CIRCE

    [_While an interlude is played_] Our Thrattis echoes thy
    thought, Ulysses; and indeed I find a certain sort of wisdom in
    the ditty.

ULYSSES

    Yet methinks it carries somewhat of a different effect from the
    open intention of it.

CIRCE

                           Wait, listen!

THRATTIS

    [_Sings_] Forget, forget! In love’s demesnes
      No faded chaplet wear;
    Nor conjure phantoms from lost scenes,
      To sit unbidden there.
    Round heaven her sign swift Iris sets,
      Flings forth her jewel’d zone:
    O, who beholds it but forgets
      The frowning storm-cloud flown?

[_The singer bends her head to hide her face as she sweeps the strings
again._]

CIRCE

    Good Thrattis, thou art tired standing. Sit and sip of the
    wine. Thou need’st sing no farther now.

PHILINNA

    She weeps, my lady.

[_As THRATTIS, declining the offered refreshment, turns and goes within._]

CIRCE

    Poor soul! truly I pity her.

PHILEMON

    But why does the girl weep, sweet Philinna? Has she some
    express sorrow attending her?

PHILINNA

    O yes, Philemon; nor will she put it entirely away. ’Tis three
    years agone since she floated to our island, lashed to some
    fragment of a vessel from the north which the hurricane had
    wrecked; but her father and two brothers who so saved her life
    themselves perished in the sea.

PHILEMON

    O, sad story; unhappy Thrattis! Yet so I do much wonder at the
    song she chose to sing.

PHILINNA

    We could do little to assuage her grief. But Circe has been
    kind to her and taught her the songs she sings so sweetly to
    her lute.

ULYSSES

    Perchance some such strains would comfort the child as the
    captive Trojan maidens might listen to betimes among us at the
    ships when the harp was struck.

CIRCE

    Pray what, Ulysses?

ULYSSES

                        Such as sounded praise
    Not for the living and the days we lived
    (Which with their moil and megrim did afford
    Scant food, I grant, for eulogy); but ever
    With vision backward turn’d the bard would seek
    Among long-treasured memories one most apt
    And draw it forth. Then did we lose all sense
    Of aching limbs, sore wounds, and comrades slain,
    Whilst in high-swelling measures like great waves
    Of Iphitus or Heracles he sang—
    Glories of ancient men.

CIRCE

                            It was fair medicine
    To still the pains ye dwelt in. In my isle
    Such cordials find not place.—But come, Ulysses,
    And see me prove the powers of that rare herb
    Whereof I promised.—Philinna, attend us. Of simples
    My sampler art thou.

[_CIRCE laughs heartily as she utters the last words and she and ULYSSES
rise from their seats. ULYSSES joins in the laugh. PHILINNA smiles
faintly and seems loth to part from PHILEMON as these two also rise._]

CIRCE

    [_Laughing again_] Thy Philemon
    Will not forget so soon.

[_CIRCE and ULYSSES go into the palace followed by PHILINNA._]

XENIAS

[_As PHILEMON turns toward him, stepping down from the veranda_]

    The commander and our Lady of the Herbs seem to be in a right
    merry mood, Philemon.

PHILEMON

    That they are indeed, to judge by the colors they fly.

XENIAS

    _You_ take it not quite so. And yet methinks you have as good
    cause as they to be blithe.

PHILEMON

    I take your meaning, Xenias. Nevertheless I’m sheer doubtful
    now and then—as though too great happiness should somehow have
    a sobering effect, as you might say, upon a fellow.

XENIAS

    Then belike when the commander sobers down a bit he will pass
    the word for a home start.

PHILEMON

    Ay, truly I have thought of it.

XENIAS

[_Laughing and clapping his friend on the shoulder_]

    But you’re not in a raking hurry about it; eh, Philemon?

[_Re-enter THERMIA round the Right corner. She comes quickly toward the
men._]

    But here’s Thermia again, in a hurry about something or other
    surely.

THERMIA

    O Xenias! I’ve seen Graea again and have learnt that Eurylochus
    has called all the men to a meeting at the shore to-morrow
    morning early about that business.

PHILEMON

    Ah, what business, Thermia?

THERMIA

    You tell him, Xenias.

XENIAS

    Philemon and I were just upon the same matter—about the
    commander passing the word to cast off.

PHILEMON

    Well, it seems the mate hasn’t invited _me_ yet.

XENIAS

    No, nor me; he thinks you and I would pull on the wrong
    quarter, laddie. But I shall be on hand just the same to see
    how the wind does blow. Don’t you go, Philemon; you haven’t the
    heart for it.

THERMIA

    Ah, thou art sad, Philemon; I feel for thee.

PHILEMON

    O, let it come; let it come!

THERMIA

    Yes, the day is bound to come, sooner or later. I would I could
    belate it. But farewell now. [_She goes out._]

PHILEMON

    Xenias, I would not ask thee to hold back
    And thine own sentiments belie because
    Mine do enchain me so to Circe’s isle
    As in its soil the roots of yonder oak
    Are wove and knotted. No; it is for you all
    Timely and reasonable—nor for Ulysses least—
    To set your faces homeward. But to me
    That home so dimly beckons now, I know not
    If it be there or here!

XENIAS

    [_Stepping closer to his friend_] ’Twas not thy wont
    To doubt, Philemon, with faint wavering heart,
    When we together oft by chilly Troy
    Crouch’d with our captain in an ambuscade
    Or sprang from the galley’s prow full-arm’d ashore
    At Tenedos or Chryse. Be thyself; be bold!
    The girl is not to the island rooted fast,
    Even though, as they pretend, their mothers be
    Fig-trees and fountains. We go: take _her_! Herself,
    I’ll wager, nothing loth.

[_While the last words are exchanged between the two men the figure of
GRAEA the swine-maiden, unobserved by them, is seen passing furtively
behind and occasionally halting as if to listen._]

PHILEMON

                              Ah, Xenias,
    Thou knowest not Philinna. She is true
    Not to me only.

XENIAS

                    I know. Untie them!
    If need be, cut the knot! Love glories
    In shifts and stratagems.

PHILEMON

    Ah, ’twere not easy!

XENIAS

    Think; ponder! Swear it: _If with Ulysses’ crew_
    _Philemon sail, Philinna shall sail too._

[_XENIAS seizes the hand of PHILEMON and they go out together at the
Left._]


II

The Seashore, early in the forenoon of the next day. The scene is the
same as in the First Act, but the signs of a temporary encampment have
disappeared and the hull of the vessel is encumbered with grass and
weeds. The curtain rising discovers both watches of the crew (excepting
GLAUCUS and PHILEMON) disposed in scattered groups; some of the men
sitting or reclining; others standing. All seem pre-occupied and the
faces of most wear an anxious look. The demeanor of EURYLOCHUS, who
stands in a conspicuous position, is more confident and dignified than in
former scenes.

FIRST SAILOR

    Well, I suppose the devil knows how long we have got to wait
    before they show up.

SECOND SAILOR

    We’re lucky if they ever show up at all. Ten to one Glauc’ll
    come back without him.

FIRST SAILOR

    Ay, ay! It’s a question whether even Glaucus can get the
    commander’s ear—leastwise he’ll have to get Madam Circe out of
    the way first.

PHORBAS

    Mark me; we aren’t safe yet! There’s no knowing what sort of
    beasts she might turn us all into even now, just to keep him
    with her a year longer!

SECOND SAILOR

    I’ve a notion we’d have done better to send a man of the
    commander’s own watch—some one that never was a hog.

XENIAS

    Bravo! where will you find such a one? Glauc’s all right; it’s
    enough to have a man who wasn’t _always_ a hog.

FIRST SAILOR

    Ha, ha! Theron, that’s one on you.

THERON

    To hell with it! hang the hogs!

ELPENOR

    My father _sticks_ his.

FIRST SAILOR

    That’s the talk, Elpy; keep the culinary department straight!

SECOND SAILOR

    But what if he’s so bewitched he won’t come and talk anyway?

EURYLOCHUS

                        Peace, peace!
    ’Tis scarce an hour since we despatch’d our comrade
    On no brief errand.
    Be patient; have good hope! It hangs, I know,
    On the razor’s edge; yet leans the weightier cause
    Toward consummation. Witchery there is still;
    Else were there little need to prompt Ulysses
    To his plain duty. Drugs have their antidotes,
    Which to employ are easy when once found:
    More subtle—ay, more deadly! than her potions
    Are these soft blandishments, cared she to play them
    To their full scope. But it has stood forth clear,
    Though once I did mistrust the promised convoy:
    Not in malevolence the enchantress binds
    Ulysses’ will. And when good Glaucus comes,
    Fearless and plain of speech and charged with all
    The prayerful hot commands we laid upon him;
    When he, unheard of Circe, bids his captain
    Arise, for old Laertes’ sake; and, backward
    With stern reproachful finger pointing, names
    The faithful wife who waits, Penelope,
    Icarius’ daughter:—then, perhaps, this cord
    Of crimson devilment will snap—remembrance,
    Conscience awake.

XENIAS

                      Eurylochus, was it not
    Here on this very shore a twelvemonth since,
    Launching the half-mann’d pinnace, you would fly,
    Your mates left in the lurch?

EURYLOCHUS

                                  But for Ulysses
    (This you would add) the doors of their foul prison
    Had closed on them forever.

XENIAS

                                But to-day
    They jest and laugh, though ’tis in Circe’s isle.

THERON

    Damn me, too, if we’re the only ones that have learnt to
    mumble spoon-victuals and dance with tree-toads in the
    moonlight!

EURYLOCHUS

    Xenias, there is a fear to which all others
    Are as soft zephyrs to the tempest: it is
    When spirits uncanny mock the paltry arts
    Of mortal courage. But for my fear, no tidings,
    No warning, no alarm had reach’d you.

FIRST SAILOR

    Hi, yi! [_He points upward to the Right_] They’re coming!
    There’s old Glauc digging down this way.

SECOND SAILOR

    [_Spying through his hand_] Alone! by the living gods!

[_Groans are uttered by some of the men, with gestures of disgust and
disappointment._]

EURYLOCHUS

            Hold; wait!
    He waves his staff; he smiles; he brings, be sure,
    No grievous answer!

[_Enter GLAUCUS bare-headed, carrying a staff with oak-leaves attached,
which he waves to and fro._]

GLAUCUS

    All’s well! all’s well, lads! It’s a go; the commander has
    struck his colors. We’re off, sure!

[_The men throng about GLAUCUS, some hurrahing and throwing up their
caps._]

SEVERAL VOICES

    But where is he? What’d he say? When’s he coming?

GLAUCUS

    O, belay there! Everything takes time. He had to go and talk
    with madam first, of course—and not take French leave like an
    orang-outang. He’ll be here in a jiffy.

PHORBAS

    Yes; but what’ll she make him say when he does come? I tell you
    we’re not well out of this kettle of fish till we’ve cut loose
    into high water!

GLAUCUS

    Avast! He’ll say what comes into his head. The lady’s got a
    head on her too: she’s not the kind of a craft to capsize at
    the first catspaw of wind, don’t you believe it!

FIRST SAILOR

    Put on a life-preserver, Phorb! Shin up the mast!

ELPENOR

    The mast isn’t shinned up itself yet.

EURYLOCHUS

    Glaucus, we owe thee thanks.

GLAUCUS

    Not a bit of it! I doubt if we’d have dared to tackle him for
    another year if you hadn’t put us up to it, old man. But you
    may set me to walk the plank if he doesn’t talk fair now.

XENIAS

    Hold on, lads! Seats again! there he comes! Stilly, stilly!

[_Enter ULYSSES at the Right, wearing sword and helmet. His aspect is
gracious as he comes to a stand near the men, who sit in silence. Before
speaking he casts a contemplative glance seaward, then turns toward the
vessel._]

ULYSSES

            Our good ship! Ah yes; the seams
    Gape in her sun-parch’d sides, and rank weeds twine
    Their prickly meshes round her shriveling keel.
    Yes, yes, my men; full long we have sat still,
    Basking in languorous fancy, rapt, unheeding
    This summons to the wave. Nor tarried others
    Behind, to follow and seize us: as when those
    Who clomb the banks of Lotus-land and straying
    Ate of the flowery food, their souls
    Steep’d in forgetfulness, we seized and bound,
    Stifled their cries and dragg’d them to the shore.—
    To-day they are no more: so many
    Death’s winged minions snatch’d and in wild sport
    Flung them to feed the sea-god’s ravenous brood;
    Or, on strange shores their white bones strewing, sign’d
    The landmarks of our course.—What wonder, then!
    What wonder, O brave comrades, if, so spent,
    So spared, beaching beside enchanted bowers
    Our single bark, lull’d under lustrous skies,
    Encircled by fond arms, we linger’d fondly
    And long. But now, welcome the tug and strain
    Once more, as ye have will’d it: the bent oar,
    The creaking rowlock, Zephyrus’ shrill pipe,
    The thundrous pounding surge! Nor now, as then,
    Shall we unpiloted and blindly plow
    Our swift sea-furrow; but wise Circe’s words
    Will be to us as beacons. We shall know
    What winds press homeward; on which hand to hold
    (When oft to night course our sick yearning prompts)
    Orion and the Bear.—If only
    Her solemn friendly warnings ye can heed,
    Which in good time I shall expressly cite,
    All may be well.

EURYLOCHUS

    Trust your men, sir, for that—leastwise if past experience
    avail them anything in the way of instruction for the future.

ULYSSES

    So prove it! On the third morn we start. Meanwhile
    Let none stand idle! To-day remains in part;
    One other day to-morrow, whilst we urge
    The labors needful to our voyage. Draw water;
    The wine-jars and the barley-crates replenish;
    Refit the tackle.—Now let the old ship drink
    And plume herself again!

SEVERAL VOICES

[_As the men, who have already sprung from their seats, gather round the
vessel_]

                              Hurrah! hurrah!
    Off with her! Rush her out!

GLAUCUS

    Look lively, lads! Knock away those props! Clear out the ways
    there for’ard!

SEVERAL VOICES

    Clear it is! Lively, lively!

ULYSSES

    Eurylochus, I depute
    To you the furtherance of these tasks. My presence
    Another foresight claims.

EURYLOCHUS

    Very well; very well, sir!—

[_To the men, some of whom have climbed on deck_]

    Drop the bow-chains over there, boys! Catch on, half a hundred
    of you! There she goes; steady, steady!

[_The curtain falls as ULYSSES goes out at the Right and the ship, pulled
and pushed by many hands, begins to move toward the water._]


III

The back of the palace, in the evening of the same day as Scene II.—As
the curtain rises ULYSSES and CIRCE are discovered in the foreground: the
former occupying a low seat by a tree; the latter reclining near him.
Upon the veranda, forming a group by themselves though not far removed
from the others, PHILEMON, XENIAS, THERMIA, and PHILINNA are seated at a
table, apparently playing at some game by the light of a hanging lamp.
ULYSSES and CIRCE are revealed to view by the rays of the moon, which
near its full is rising above the palace roof.

CIRCE

    Those children are making a brave effort to play at their game,
    Ulysses. They pretend to-morrow will be soon enough for parting
    salutations.

THERMIA

    [_Who has overheard the remark_] O Circe! Philinna cannot play
    at all; she throws amiss every time.

CIRCE

    Well, I doubt if her Philemon does much better.—There are at
    least two aching hearts over there, Ulysses.

ULYSSES

    Yet I have remarked Philemon seems not exactly depressed by it.
    Indeed both he and Xenias surprise me, how cheerily they await
    the event.

CIRCE

    They are men: new scenes, new labors summon them; thoughts of
    their home. But my poor nymphs must rest contented hereafter
    with only me and the even sameness of our days.

ULYSSES

    Even so ye lived blithe-hearted ere we came.

CIRCE

    Hearts _more_ than blithe we knew not ere ye came.

ULYSSES

    Counts not the added bliss as gain meanwhile?

CIRCE

    True gain or loss the final balance shows.

ULYSSES

    Then, till it’s struck, hope for the winning scale.

CIRCE

    Such hopes help mortals cheat themselves, Ulysses,
    Even of the present profit.

ULYSSES

                                But I note,
    Thy tacit precept, thine own example, leads us
    To drain the brimming cup and count as naught
    What pangs might follow.

CIRCE

                              Ulysses, my example
    (For in these closing hours I will confess it)
    Hath my soul’s truest insight much belied.
    Thou didst with moly baffle my magic art:
    The _woman’s_ craft to baffle quite, no helper
    Could guide thee to a clue. Hate there was none—
    As well thou knowest: my bosom’s pride conceal’d
    No sinister, vindictive purpose. But
    Poor Circe, worsted, won her mastery back
    And turn’d to sportive vengeance her defeat,
    When with wise incantations wise Ulysses
    She sang to sleep.

ULYSSES

                        There needed those more weary,
    If not more wise, to wake him.

CIRCE

                                  But meanwhile
    My gentle partners, my sweet nymphs, I so
    Imperilling left—that same mischance whereof
    With a vague prescience more than once I warn’d them—
    In these new toils ensnared, when the spell broke,
    To droop as their own clipt flowers.

[_While the last few words are pronounced there has been brisk talking,
not distinctly overheard, on the part of the other group._]

THERMIA

    [_Loudly_] O, for shame, Philemon! What a thing to say!

PHILINNA

    [_Passionately_] ’Tis _he_; ’tis he himself cares not!

CIRCE

[_Turning toward the veranda, where PHILEMON and XENIAS have just risen
to their feet_]

    Ah, now! what coil is this? Philinna, speak!

THERMIA

    O Circe! ’tis Philemon—and Xenias too; they say
    We are but women’s women: at the last moment
    (They tell us) we choose _you_!

CIRCE

                                    O foolish children!
    Must your vain quarreling blight such hours as these!—
    But whither? Philemon! Xenias! will you leave us?

PHILEMON

    ’Tis only, my lady, a certain business calls us forth expressly
    at this time.

ULYSSES

    So, my men? A strange time for business, is it not?

XENIAS

    It were so, sir, but for a slight affair of our own, to which
    we should properly give our attention by high moonlight only.

CIRCE

    [_Laughing_] Holy Diana! Have they, too, turned to magic?

XENIAS

    Pray excuse us, all!

[_The two young men go out by the Right corner. PHILINNA, bending over
the table, covers her face with her hands, while THERMIA rising attempts
to soothe her._]

CIRCE

    O, mind not, dear Philinna, his hasty words!
    Though heartless sounding, they did rather prove
    The same concern that draws thine own tears now.
    Lead her within; thou canst console her, Thermia:
    Thy stronger courage will avail.

[_The two nymphs go into the palace._]

ULYSSES

    Circe, I like not this foolery of the high moonlight. Though it
    be a trifle ludicrous, the lads seemed right serious about it
    nevertheless. ’Tis unlike Philemon. I like it not.

CIRCE

    O put the thought aside, Ulysses!
    It is some youthful prank, or a mere jest
    Fresh-coin’d with sober mouth. Nor falls amiss
    Thus on the girl’s untried, too tender spirit
    Some jar and crossing ere the final shock,
    So to forestall and break it.
                                  And this moon!
    Well she deserves, Ulysses, in thy sight.
    Have we not sought ourselves her soothing spell?
    Masking a farewell colloquy in smiles,
    As yonder silver’d wave-tips feign deliverance
    From the encircling gloom of envious night.
        Ah! if thou didst but know,
    Son of Laertes, half the struggles that wait thee
    By Neptune’s billowy realm and, rescued thence,
    In deadly strife at thy rude island-home,
    Then wouldst thou feel, perchance, less haste to leave
    Circe, the frail enchantress.—Ay, not all
    The signs to guide and perils that impend
    Canst thou learn now. Some, long in mystery wrapt
    (Nor wouldst thou choose to speed them), time will teach;
    Others, from ghostly lips compell’d, when soon,
    By Ocean’s stream thy lone bark moor’d, thou standest
    At the dark doors of Hades to evoke
    Theban Tiresias’ shade, the seer shall utter.

ULYSSES

                                   Dread Circe!
    O strange, unpitying prophetess, no mortal
    Reaches by sail or oar that awful strand.

CIRCE

    Thou shalt be one, Ulysses, who, twice dying,
    Twice lives to rue his birth.—But hearken;
    And on the mindful tablets of thy soul
    Grave these my warnings. Back from the sunless shore
    Of pale Persephone the refluent tide
    Will bear thy bark unurged: till, facing
    The ruddy sources of recover’d day,
    Fresh-waken’d breath of quickening winds she feels
    Smite on her listless sail. So hold her prow,
    Toward Eos striving surely, from my isle
    Farther and farther speeding.

ULYSSES

                                  But how soon?
    How soon, O Circe, may our glad eyes behold
    Some signal of known lands?

CIRCE

                                So much not yet
    May be unveil’d; nor yet, what remnant lingers
    Of crew or vessel until that hour.—But hear,
    How (lest their doom be hasten’d) on thy helmsman,
    When ’twixt unlovely neighbors he must steer,
    The crisis hangs. On this side Scylla lurks,
    Snarling in her cliff-cavern; on that, Charybdis
    Retches, with swirling gorge. Thrice happy he
    Who, nor to the right inclining nor the left,
    Cleaves straight the midway mark with even keel.

ULYSSES

    But why not of the engulfing pest steer wide
    And with arm’d hand fend off the other’s onset?

CIRCE

    Ah!
    Thus do presumptuous mortals vaunt their cunning,
    Or vain force, where alone swift vision wins.—
    If, then, alternate ruin ye elude,
    In some part scatheless, sweep with thankful hearts
    The gleaming waters’ wide unbroken waste.
    Then soon, Ulysses, as to my lay thou only
    Mightst listen and be saved, even so alone
    May’st thou, safe sailing, hear the Sirens’ song.

ULYSSES

    Breathe any so sweet a strain as that, O Circe,
    Which binds the caller at the moaning porch?

CIRCE

    Not binds, but draws! No sense-benumbing spell
    Boast the sea-maidens, nor themselves are fair.
    Their theme, what men call _glory_; and the strain,
    Bell-like, o’er the hush’d seas far pealing, calls
    With a resistless summons to their shore.
    It, with white skulls and rotting wreckage lined.
    Thou shalt speed by, yet hear. Lash’d to the mast
    By thy men’s hands—themselves with wax-stopt ears—
    Bid them, when thou with frantic dumb entreaty
    Wouldst sign their stroke toward that melodious lure,
    Pull stronger and swerve not, with firmer bonds
    Lashing thee still, while yet one echo
    Of siren-voices lingers.

ULYSSES

                              Circe, full long
    Thy tale of helps and hazards, though not few
    Still on their fixt oracular moment wait.
    Be these enough, while courage step by step,
    Conning each several danger, learn to face it.

CIRCE

    ’Tis well.

[_Thus far CIRCE has been reclining, with occasional changes of attitude
due to the earnestness of her discourse. She now rises to a sitting
posture._]

    [_Laughing_] But forget not, most prudent captain,
    The risks thy moonstruck followers would invite
    In these my precincts!

[_She gives her hand to ULYSSES, who assists her to rise._]

                          It were worth while to note
    Their traces. Come; they went this way.

[_She leads out at the Right, ULYSSES following with downward thoughtful
look._]


IV

The grove upon sloping ground, at noon of the day following the previous
scene.—Enter from the Left downward MYRTO leading _Mikkos_. With a glance
toward the path on the Right she seats herself under the tree by which
MERCURY appeared to ULYSSES, while the ape, whose chain MYRTO continues
to hold, swings himself to a low branch above her.

MYRTO

    Well, Mikkos, they are not here yet.—But Graea never loiters
    and they will soon come. Now I charge thee once again; and be
    thou, as a reflecting animal, less slow to curb thy native
    animosities, Mikkos! Look not upon Eurylochus as thine enemy,
    receiving him with angry and unseemly gestures. Eurylochus
    is our friend to-day; and his co-operation in the present
    emergency is invaluable.—Hear’st thou, Mikkos? [_The ape grins
    and wags his head._] Very well; now conduct thyself like a
    rational being! I hear them coming.

[_Enter from the Right upward EURYLOCHUS, followed closely by GRAEA. The
former, after a suspicious glance at_ Mikkos, _who shows his teeth and
tries to shake his chain, turns inquiringly toward MYRTO who remains
seated while the others stand._]

EURYLOCHUS

    Graea has by her signs made known to me, Myrto, that you would
    have me attend you here at this time; and I have inferred from
    the earnestness of her manner that the message is of importance.

MYRTO

    Important indeed it is, Eurylochus: I need your assistance;
    and not for myself alone—perchance even somewhat for thine own
    weal; but especially on behalf of the lady Circe and all of us
    her poor companions—whom to be sure thou lovest not.

EURYLOCHUS

    One may love not, Myrto, and yet be nowise lacking in
    good-will. You would not have called in an unfriendly hand to
    aid you.

MYRTO

    In the present matter at any rate thou wilt be sure to side
    with us.—Wouldst thou choose to take one of us home with thee
    in the ship, Eurylochus?

EURYLOCHUS

    How? What? Forbid it, mighty Apollo! Is your mind wandering,
    Myrto?

MYRTO

    It is not I, but a pair of your pretty comrades whose wits are
    wandering; for they would carry away Philinna, unbeknown to
    Ulysses and the rest of you, hiding her in the vessel.

EURYLOCHUS

    Ah! we know of Philemon’s madness—and the girl consents to this?

MYRTO

    No indeed! they will put her to sleep with Circe’s drug—

EURYLOCHUS

    [_Interrupting_] O Heracles!

MYRTO

    And so bring her aboard the ship to-night, while you are all at
    the palace partaking of the farewell feast.

EURYLOCHUS

    Then if you have discovered this plot, why not warn her
    straightway and cut it short?

MYRTO

    Not so, Eurylochus!

[_MYRTO rises and addresses herself earnestly to him._]

    Not till the latest moment must Philinna
    Perceive the strange and treacherous design
    Of him she loves, who, if he loved her less,
    Would spurn the trick his clever mate has taught him.
    Now hear me; and observe
    How thou shalt aid us, with least harm to foil
    This harmful scheme. Nothing the herb itself
    Of baneful sort to mind or body works:
    But whoso of its fragrance breathes in slumber,
    For six-and-thirty hours wakes not again,
    Nor feels, nor can be roused. They hold its leaves
    Gather’d beneath pale moonbeams, when the plant
    Best cools its juices and conserves its force.
    These they will bruise and spread
    About the pillow of Philinna’s couch,
    Where she each day—now at this very hour—Seeks
    her brief noontide sleep: by the moss’d bank
    So near the waterfall its gauzy spray
    Like an ethereal veil enshrouds the bower
    Where our companion rests; and muffled tones,
    Voiced by perpetual whirling waters, soothe
    The slumberer’s ear. Of vines her bed is join’d:
    Gnarl’d stems which from the vineyard pruning once
    We fashion’d to a woodland couch, to sit
    And watch the headlong stream. This lifting
    (So Graea heard them whisper) they will bear
    With its fond burden shoreward ere the dawn,
    While yet ye feast and revel. And they hope
    To hold her hidden (nor will she wake) until
    Too far at sea the flying ship hath sped
    For ruth or reparation.

EURYLOCHUS

                            O great gods!
    Herself by good rights, waking then, should rue
    Her wanton witcheries.

MYRTO

                          Peace, Eurylochus; peace!
    Perverse and all one-sided is thy sense:
    On the other side thy mother bore thee blind.
    Not yet hast thou been taught the part thou playest
    In the prevention.—At the feast this night,
    Ere the two plotters to their work slip out,
    I at my wheel (whom thou wilt watch) shall give thee
    This sign—with finger prest to lip: whereat
    Thyself withdrawing noiselessly to join
    Graea who waits without, with her wilt hie
    To poor Philinna’s bower: and both shall bear
    Hillward by the back path the couch and sleeper
    Into the banquet-hall to Circe.

EURYLOCHUS

                                    And what revenge
    Will Circe wreak upon the thieves?

MYRTO

                                      Circe is wise;
    Needs not our counsel.—And, Eurylochus, mark:
    Thy secrecy here will stand thee in good stead.
    A narrow pathway tread ye all, so long
    In this round isle ye linger! Go; and be mindful!—

[_EURYLOCHUS goes out at the Right downward._]

    Now, Graea—for thy sharp ear no caution needs,—
    His part and thine are fixt. And further, Graea;
    When chilly night descends, visit her bower
    And lay soft fleeces o’er Philinna’s form,
    Sheltering her deep dishonest sleep.

[_GRAEA by signs gives her assent_, Mikkos _jumps down from the tree, and
all go out by the Left upward._]


V

The same as the first scene of the play. The Front of the Palace in the
afternoon. The porch and its steps are already in the shade. The curtain
rising discovers THERMIA seated upon one of the lower steps thoughtfully
regarding the fountain, which plays faintly. Enter MYRTO upon the porch
from within.

MYRTO

    [_Taking her seat upon a step_] Yes, there is shade here now;
    Circe will come soon.

THERMIA

    I know not why I feel so anxious, Myrto,—wondering what
    communication you can have to make while Ulysses and his men
    are away at the lading of their vessel.

MYRTO

    Now pray, Thermia, if what I shall say to Circe startle you
    in some degree, restrain yourself and show not perturbation.
    Circe, as you well know, likes not hasty suggestion in what
    concerns her deeply.

THERMIA

    ’Tis true; I will be prudent. O, what can it be?

MYRTO

    Wait; here she comes now.

[_CIRCE entering descends the stairs to a seat just within the
lengthening shadow by the fountain. She wears her canary-colored tunic,
but not the black robe._]

CIRCE

    [_Turning toward the stairs_] Myrto! Thermia! Where is Philinna?

MYRTO

    She sleeps, my lady.

CIRCE

    Sleeps still? ’Tis past midday more than two hours!
    Philinna is wont to sleep soundly, but not long.

MYRTO

    She will sleep long this time, Circe: Philinna will not wake
    to-day.

CIRCE

    [_Starting to her feet_] What! Not wake to-day? Dost thou
    trifle with me, girl?

MYRTO

    Indeed I do not trifle with you. But fear not, dear lady; there
    has been mischief, but harm will not come to Philinna.

CIRCE

    Mischief—mischief? Methinks I divine somewhat. But speak;
    explain thyself forthwith!

MYRTO

    They have given her the sleeping-plant which last night they
    gathered under the moon.

THERMIA

    [_To herself_] Ah, I see my precious Xenias’ finger here; the
    traitor!

CIRCE

    O! O! Audacious, shameless souls!
    With my own drugs would they outwit me? O!
    I see! I see! Thus they will _steal_ Philinna.
    But holy Diana! [_Laughing scornfully_] So sly, and yet so simple!
    They were twice foil’d, ere such a plot could prosper.

MYRTO

    Truly there needs small skill to circumvent them:
    Such I have summon’d.

CIRCE

                          But the herb?

MYRTO

                                      I show’d them.

CIRCE

    What? Myrto, Myrto!

MYRTO

                        Stay; hear me, Circe.
    Their plan I knew beforehand; and ’twas better
    _She_ knew it not; should rather sleep; nor wake
    Till the whole farce were play’d—seest thou, my lady?

CIRCE

    O clever Myrto! Not in vain thou sittest
    Demurely by thy wheel, as if its hum
    And spinster’s sordid finger-work were all
    Thy wits could compass!—thou, the nixie-born;
    With newts and water-beetles nurtured!—But how
    Came it to light?

MYRTO

                      They came to me,
    To find for them the herb. The tale they told,
    How, when the ship had sail’d, among themselves
    Some sport they would devise. But Graea already
    Had overheard their whisperings and advised me.

THERMIA

    Graea is everywhere and hears all things!

CIRCE

    Hush, Thermia!

MYRTO

    Because she hath no tongue they do forget
    Her sharpen’d ears.—Safely Philinna sleeps;
    And to your side shall she be brought to-night
    During the banquet.

CIRCE

    Ah! ah!

THERMIA

    And will they dare, finding her not,
    To wait for such an issue?

CIRCE

                                Whither pray
    Might they seek refuge?—Two alone are guilty;
    And two alone shall answer for the guilt;
    Nor shall the feast be marr’d. Go now;
    And urge its preparation.

[_The two nymphs go into the palace._]

CIRCE

    Poor purblind men!
    O, how short of the mark their vision falls!
    Phantoms, bred of precipitate desire,
    Aiming to grasp, but comprehending not
    The check and natural limit.—So the same
    At whose achievement we should rave, in failure
    We pity and forgive. Ay; to know more
    And to see farther than for themselves they see
    Doth make forbearance easy. How would they change
    For sweet Philinna’s rainbow-guarded sleep
    Their own long slumber in the fishy deep!

[_She ascends the steps and goes into the palace._]


VI

The banquet-hall late at night. The feasting is near its end and the
wine has begun to be poured at the farewell entertainment given by CIRCE
to her guests in the last hours before they set sail. The Enchantress
sits at the head of her table, wearing her black robe and coronal of
pearls. THERMIA and MYRTO are in their usual places; but PHILINNA is
absent and the throne at CIRCE’S left has been removed. ULYSSES sits at
the head of the table by the dais. His demeanor is serious; but the men
though orderly are in high spirits as they join in the chorus, with the
exception of PHILEMON and XENIAS, who seem pre-occupied, seated together
near the exit behind ULYSSES. EURYLOCHUS is so placed as to face MYRTO
at her wheel. The first chorus following is sung before the rise of the
curtain.

(_Chorus of men’s voices behind the scenes_)

    Never fear for your ship if you handle her right;
    She will scamper all day and eats nothing at night.
    Stick her nose in the sand, she is safe in the stall;
    She’s a carriage and horses and stable and all.

[_Curtain rises_]

GLAUCUS

    [_Sings_] We sampled his cheeses and bunk’d in his den,
    But when he came home he ate six of our men.—
    “People don’t come a-foot when they come to see me:
    Now where did you leave the old frigate?” cried he.

    (_Chorus_)

GLAUCUS

    It was a big pickle, we forged a big lie:
    “A thunderbolt struck her, Sir Cyclops,” said I;
    “Tore a hole in her timbers as wide as a door;
    She sank to the bottom and we swam ashore.”

    (_Chorus_)

GLAUCUS

    So we punch’d out his eye with a stake while he snored,
    Then broke for the landing and scrambled aboard.—
    His rock was a load for a twenty-mule team:
    “Heave hard there”! I shouted; “heave hard, Polypheme!”

    (_Chorus_)

GLAUCUS

    First time he shot high; and the swashing great wave
    Sent her back on a dance to the mouth of his cave.
    His second fell short: ’twas a booster behind
    And scooted her for’ard, quite well to our mind.

    (_Chorus_)

    Never fear for your ship if you handle her right;
    She will scamper all day and eats nothing at night.
    Stick her nose in the sand, she is safe in the stall;
    She’s a carriage and horses and stable and all.

CIRCE

    Our friend Glaucus would usurp the role of his captain,
    apparently, when he celebrates that famous scene, Ulysses.

ULYSSES

    And right welcome is he to any glory he may borrow therefrom.
    Verily there was little enough for me to boast of in the
    adventure.

GLAUCUS

    It’s true the commander got us into the scrape, madam, if he
    will allow me; but there would need a longer song than any we
    have sung yet to tell the whole story, how cleverly he got us
    out of it.

THERON

    Damme! a great song! Not a word about the tipple that did it
    all!

ELPENOR

    And the sheep-ride too.

A VOICE

    Ay, ay!—’twas the tipple that did for him. Let the old sinner
    play blind-man’s buff with his bell-wether now!

ULYSSES

    Enough!
    Now the cry homeward and the forward glance
    Shall banish retrospect. These claim our care.
    Fair winds suffice not;
    Nor the good hopes by gracious friends inspired,
    Where prudent counsel fails.

CIRCE

                                Most timely said!
    Experience ends not with each wondrous hap.
    Ye know not yet, good men, your several fates
    Cradled beyond my island’s guardian pale.
    Obedience and true caution shall avail you
    Not less because your course be pointed clear.
    These save while they endure.—
    But now our ancient welcome is exchanged
    For farewell greetings. Nor indeed comes song
    Amiss at such an hour.

[_She claps her hands twice and THRATTIS enters with her lute, standing
by the sideboard. While the attention of all is thus drawn away MYRTO
gives the sign to EURYLOCHUS, who slips out unobserved._]

CIRCE

    Our guests have just sung a gay song in honor of their ship,
    Thrattis. Perchance thou canst match it with one from thine own
    store.

[_THRATTIS smiles faintly and begins a slow prelude upon her instrument
in a minor key._]

ELPENOR

    She knows how to make it cry.

THERON

    Hush, boy; mar not the music!

[_The girl sings slowly with irregular pauses and interludes at
significant points in the recital. The music itself is marked by
chromatic changes, with the last two stanzas taking on distinctly the
character of a funeral march. Before that part of the performance is
reached PHILEMON and XENIAS, taking advantage of the rapt attention of
the company, steal out unnoticed._]

THRATTIS

    Sea-wind o’er the ripples crept;
    His cool breath my temples swept;
    Sea-wind whisper’d, as I slept
        Near to the wave.
    From his caverns, hollow-toned,
    Sea-wind mock’d my dream and moan’d.
    In my sleep I turn’d and groan’d
        As in the grave.
    Through lank grasses, swaying slow,
    Peering with green eyes a-glow
    Sea-wind stole and mutter’d low:
        “Wake not! sleep on,
    If my vision thou wouldst share:—
    The split mast; the lightning’s glare;
    Shrouds whirl’d wildly in mid-air!
        See! her helm gone,
    The vessel plunges. Lo! again
    Caught by the deadly hurricane,
    Crackling bolt and hissing rain,
        The hull spins round;
    Breaks, sinks! One man breasts the tide;
    Clutches spar and climbs astride;
    A sea-courser seems to ride.—
        Vague depths profound
    With white feet the others tread;
    Seek on ocean’s floor their bed;
    Or, to rude shores blindly led,
        Full nigh they draw;
    Ram-like, butt the flinty stones.
    The gray sea a dirge intones,
    Whilst the fat casing of their bones
        Dumb fishes gnaw.”

ULYSSES

[_After a pause, when the chords struck in conclusion of the song have
ceased to sound_]

    The maid hath not sailed the south seas in vain, upon my soul,
    Circe!

GLAUCUS

    By the twin gods, ye would think she came straight from Davy
    Jones’ locker, let out alive!

CIRCE

    ’Tis a brief step from life to death: why then
    Shall not the venturous errant fancy feign it
    Thrice taken and retraced? From death to life
    Were as from sleep to waking; nor, if dreams
    Might linger on the skirts of such a change,
    Should they unheeded pass.—

The words of CIRCE are interrupted by the entrance at the Right rear
doorway of EURYLOCHUS and GRAEA bearing the rustic couch upon which the
form of PHILINNA is extended as upon a bier. As they enter, GRAEA, who
sustains the rear end at the head of the sleeper, swings to her right
backward and the two bearers set the couch and its burden down by
CIRCE’S side in full view of the company. EURYLOCHUS quickly resumes his
seat among the men, while the swine-maiden, wearing her long whip coiled
as a girdle round her waist, retires to a position near the lute-girl,
where the two remain standing side by side. _Mikkos_, who had sprung into
the room close behind the bearers, is seized by MYRTO and tied fast with
shortened chain to the spokes of her wheel. The form and features of
PHILINNA are motionless as in death. She is clothed in her gauzy dress
of noonday. The banqueters in profound silence gaze with horror at the
apparition. CIRCE, laying hand upon her wand, faces her guests steadily
with a trace of irony in her look, while a few notes of solemn music fall
from the lute of THRATTIS.

ULYSSES

[_Half rising from his chair with gesture of inquiry and deprecation_]

    What!—Circe? Thy Philinna?—is this death?
    Forbid it, ye kind gods!

CIRCE

    Philinna?—or Philinna’s shade?
    Ask thine own followers, great commander; ask
    Pale Hecate’s twin votaries!

ULYSSES

[_Who has risen to his feet and scanning the company perceives for the
first time that not all his men are present_]

    Ha! what? Philemon? Xenias?—where?

EURYLOCHUS

    [_Saluting_] They encountered us, sir, as we ascended hither
    bearing the sleeping maid. They were on their way to seize her,
    but when they saw themselves cheated of their prey they cried
    out and fled incontinently to the woods.

ULYSSES

    Great Zeus! no flight shall save them! Up, Eurylochus!

[_With a stern gesture of command_]

    Take Glaucus and three others of your watch; go forth; seek
    out, arrest the caitiffs! Put them in irons and wait for us on
    board!

[_EURYLOCHUS and GLAUCUS stand up, several other men spring to their feet
as volunteers_. Mikkos _exhibits excitement, and GRAEA slowly uncoils
the whip from her waist. THERMIA turns pale and cannot conceal her
agitation._]

CIRCE

    [_Lifting her wand gently_] Hold, Ulysses! Hold!
    Refrain; bend not thy thoughts to chains
    Or cruel punishment. Are they not even now
    By failure and humiliation scourged?

ULYSSES

[_To whom EURYLOCHUS and GLAUCUS are looking expectantly_]

    Never! Never!

The door behind the dais opens, a golden light fills the passage-way thus
revealed, and MERCURY, brilliantly arrayed as in the second scene of the
play, stands forth upon the platform. His step gives no sound; and, as he
extends his hands (one holding the winged wand) gently forward over the
company, all the men feel the soothing influence without turning their
heads to observe its source; while ULYSSES, and the others who stand,
sink quietly to their seats in motionless attitude. ULYSSES slightly bows
his head. The inmates of the palace are not affected like the guests;
they maintain their former demeanor; but CIRCE lowers her hand with the
wand to the table before her.

MERCURY

                  By the Father sent
    I come this time, to loose the tangled web
    Of crossing motive, Circe, in thy bowers.
    He in the scales of fate the fortunes weigh’d
    Of these thy mortal visitors all, thine own,
    Of thy beloved nymphs; and bade me speed,
    Taking my wand, wherewith for woe or weal
    I seal men’s eyes and, when I will, unseal.

    The offending youths—already are they
    Themselves in closer toils of slumber caught
    Than the charm’d herb upon the maiden brought.
    At my behest their living phantoms glide;
    Upward or downward their blind steps I guide.

[_Without turning, the god raises his wand gently with backward movement
of the hands, and in the wide opening behind him the forms of PHILEMON
and XENIAS appear, standing side by side. Their eyes are closed;
their features pallid in the weird light; their look is of complete
unconsciousness. THRATTIS strikes major chords._]

    Their fault the Father pardons; and decrees
    They shall be toss’d no more on billowy seas,
    But to their lives’ end tread the enchanted soil
    Which of its bloom they plotted to despoil.

[_MERCURY sways the wand slowly from behind forward, and the two sleepers
(PHILEMON first, XENIAS close behind him) guided by the spell pass across
the dais, gliding down behind the banqueters until they reach a position
between THERMIA and PHILINNA’S couch. Their footsteps give no sound;
their movement is mechanical; in the place indicated they stand stiff and
motionless with closed eyes._]

MERCURY

    Arise, Ulysses!

[_ULYSSES stands up; and simultaneously his men all rise silently to
their feet._]

                    Now thy waiting bark
    Swims in the darkling haven; but full soon
    Eos her saffron portals will unbar
    And wake the convoy breezes. Tarry not!—
    Thy crew the Father’s stern assignments claim;
    I sign them to _march_, FORWARD! in his name.

[_The funeral march which closed the song of THRATTIS is played softly,
and the men pass out behind MERCURY in single file, moving noiselessly
and with the utmost precision, as if under the hypnotizing influence
of the wand waved above them. The company of EURYLOCHUS marches first,
headed by their leader and GLAUCUS, THERON and ELPENOR bringing up the
rear. The other company, excepting PHILEMON and XENIAS, immediately
follows. ULYSSES, who has donned his helmet, begins to speak as the last
man passes and the music ceases._]

ULYSSES

    To gloom of future fates beholden fast,
    The parting hour yet beckons toward the past.
    What blessings lay beneath rapt moments hidden
    Now to the pictured memory rise unbidden;
    Each, as with pointed stylus’ steely smart,
    Prick’d and deep graven on the shrinking heart.—
    Farewell! O sorceress benign, farewell!
    He knows not _life_, who knows not CIRCE’S spell.

[_ULYSSES turns and goes out. The music begins again in the major key.
MERCURY, poised upon one foot in an attitude similar to that presented
by a familiar statue of the god, leans far forward with wand pointed
straight at the sleepers. PHILINNA opens her eyes and slowly rises to
a sitting posture on her couch. PHILEMON and XENIAS open their eyes
and draw long breaths. PHILINNA, turning first toward CIRCE, with one
hand clasps the left hand of the Enchantress; then, with the other,
recognizing PHILEMON, takes his right. THERMIA, when XENIAS wakes, seizes
his left hand with her own, and with a joyous look lays her right upon
his shoulder. The two youths have themselves joined hands. MYRTO seated,
whom_ Mikkos _strives to reach, holds him firmly at arm’s length by the
collar. GRAEA, standing beside THRATTIS, whip in hand, glares fiercely at
the exit._

_The countenance of CIRCE is deeply sad. Her wand lies relinquished upon
the table. She continues to gaze, as if into vague distance, in the
direction of her departed guest._]


CURTAIN

*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78211 ***