Circe. Hist! Thou—within there! 70 Come forth, Ulysses deg.! deg.71 Art deg. tired with hunting? deg.72 While we range deg. the woodland, deg.73 See what the day brings. deg. deg.74
Ulysses. Ever new magic!
75
Hast thou then lured hither,
Wonderful Goddess, by thy art,
The young, languid-eyed Ampelus,
Iacchus’ darling—
Or some youth beloved of Pan,
80
Of Pan and the Nymphs deg.?
deg.81
That he sits, bending downward
His white, delicate neck
To the ivy-wreathed marge
Of thy cup; the bright, glancing vine-leaves
85
That crown his hair,
Falling forward, mingling
With the dark ivy-plants—
His fawn-skin, half untied,
Smear’d with red wine-stains? Who is he,
90
That he sits, overweigh’d
By fumes of wine and sleep,
So late, in thy portico?
What youth, Goddess,—what guest
Of Gods or mortals?
95
Circe. Hist! he wakes!
I lured him not hither, Ulysses.
Nay, ask him!
The Youth. Who speaks? Ah, who
comes forth
To thy side, Goddess, from within?
100
How shall I name him?
This spare, dark-featured,
Quick-eyed stranger?
Ah, and I see too
His sailor’s bonnet,
105
His short coat, travel-tarnish’d,
With one arm bare deg.!—
deg.107
Art thou not he, whom fame
This long time rumours
The favour’d guest of Circe, deg. brought by
the waves? deg.110
Art thou he, stranger?
The wise Ulysses,
Laertes’ son?
Ulysses. I am Ulysses.
And thou, too, sleeper?
115
Thy voice is sweet.
It may be thou hast follow’d
Through the islands some divine bard,
By age taught many things,
Age and the Muses deg.;
deg.120
And heard him delighting
The chiefs and people
In the banquet, and learn’d his songs,
Of Gods and Heroes,
Of war and arts,
125
And peopled cities,
Inland, or built
By the grey sea.—If so, then hail!
I honour and welcome thee.
The Youth. The Gods are happy.
130
They turn on all sides
Their shining eyes,
And see below them
The earth and men. deg.
deg.134