“With ready speed the joyful crew obey: 
Alone Eurylochus persuades their stay.

“’Whither (he cried), ah whither will ye run? 
Seek ye to meet those evils ye should shun? 
Will you the terrors of the dome explore,
In swine to grovel, or in lions roar,
Or wolf-like howl away the midnight hour
In dreadful watch around the magic bower? 
Remember Cyclops, and his bloody deed;
The leader’s rashness made the soldiers bleed.’

“I heard incensed, and first resolved to speed
My flying falchion at the rebel’s head. 
Dear as he was, by ties of kindred bound,
This hand had stretch’d him breathless on the ground. 
But all at once my interposing train
For mercy pleaded, nor could plead in vain. 
’Leave here the man who dares his prince desert,
Leave to repentance and his own sad heart,
To guard the ship.  Seek we the sacred shades
Of Circe’s palace, where Ulysses leads.’

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

“Meanwhile the goddess, with indulgent cares
And social joys, the late transform’d repairs;
The bath, the feast, their fainting soul renews: 
Rich in refulgent robes, and dropping balmy dews: 
Brightening with joy, their eager eyes behold,
Each other’s face, and each his story told;
Then gushing tears the narrative confound,
And with their sobs the vaulted roof resound. 
When hush’d their passion, thus the goddess cries: 
’Ulysses, taught by labours to be wise,
Let this short memory of grief suffice. 
To me are known the various woes ye bore. 
In storms by sea, in perils on the shore;
Forget whatever was in Fortune’s power,
And share the pleasures of this genial hour. 
Such be your mind as ere ye left your coast,
Or learn’d to sorrow for a country lost. 
Exiles and wanderers now, where’er ye go,
Too faithful memory renews your woe: 
The cause removed, habitual griefs remain,
And the soul saddens by the use of pain.’

“Her kind entreaty moved the general breast;
Tired with long toil, we willing sunk to rest. 
We plied the banquet, and the bowl we crown’d,
Till the full circle of the year came round. 
But when the seasons following in their train,
Brought back the months, the days, and hours again;
As from a lethargy at once they rise,
And urge their chief with animating cries: 

“’Is this, Ulysses, our inglorious lot? 
And is the name of Ithaca forgot? 
Shall never the dear land in prospect rise,
Or the loved palace glitter in our eyes? 
“Melting I heard; yet till the sun’s decline
Prolong’d the feast, and quaff’d the rosy wine
But when the shades came on at evening hour,
And all lay slumbering in the dusky bower,
I came a suppliant to fair Circe’s bed,
The tender moment seized, and thus I said: 
’Be mindful, goddess! of thy promise made;
Must sad Ulysses ever be delay’d? 
Around their lord my sad companions mourn,
Each breast beats homeward, anxious to return: 
If but a moment parted from thy eyes,
Their tears flow round me, and my heart complies.’