Circe

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!

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

About This Book

IV

V

VI