Much cheered by his words the men set to work with willing hands, and before an hour had passed the whole company was reunited under Circe’s hospitable roof.  The dreaded witch had laid aside all her terrors, and now appeared only in the character of a kind and generous hostess, whose sole care was for the comfort and welfare of her guests.  Days lengthened into weeks, and weeks into months, and still they lingered on in that luxurious clime, as if there were no such place as Ithaca, and no wide waste of sea to be crossed.

At last, when they had lived a whole year on the island, Odysseus’ men began to grow weary of their long inaction, and begged their leader to obtain Circe’s permission to depart.  Not without some misgivings, Odysseus preferred his request.  “Deem me not ungrateful,” he said, “if my heart turns ever to my wife and home.  I am but a mortal man, with human needs and frailties, and no fit mate for a goddess like thee.  And my men weary me with their importunity, when thou art not near.”

Circe heard him graciously, knowing well that they must part.  “I will not keep thee,” she said, “against thy will.  But a long journey lies before thee, even to the very ends of the earth, and not until that is past canst thou set thy sail for home.  To the halls of Hades thou must go, and consult the spirit of Theban Teiresias, who alone among all the dead hath an understanding heart, while the rest are but flitting shadows.  Now hearken, and I will tell thee all that thou must do.  When thou leavest these shores thou shalt sail ever southward, until thou hast reached the farther side of the River Oceanus, and come to the shadowy grove which stands at the confines of the realm of Persephone.  There thou shalt land with thy company, and dig a trench a cubit in length and breadth, and pour about it a libation of mead and water and wine; and after that thou shalt offer a sacrifice of black sheep, in such wise that the blood thereof shall flow into the trench and fill it.  Thither will flock the whole multitude of departed spirits, to drink of the blood; but do thou draw thy sword, and hold it over the trench, nor suffer any of the other spirits to draw near until thou hast seen Teiresias and hearkened to his lore.”

All that night Odysseus remained in deep conference with Circe, and as soon as day dawned he went to rouse his men who were sleeping in the outer chamber.  “Up, comrades!” he cried, “all is prepared, and we must embark without delay.”  His loud summons proved fatal to one of the company, a certain Elpenor, the youngest of them all, who, the night before, had lain down to sleep on the housetop, for the sake of the coolness, being heated with wine.  Roused suddenly by the voice of Odysseus, he staggered to his feet, and, still half asleep, stumbled over the parapet in his haste, and fell headlong from the roof.

In the hurry of their departure the body was left where it lay, and Odysseus, when they reached the ship, did not notice his absence.  They found that Circe had been there before them, and left the victims for sacrifice bound to the vessel’s side.  She herself was nowhere to be seen, and so without another word of farewell they launched their galley and put out into the deep.