Part 6

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_]