Chapter III

The back of the palace, in the evening of the same day as Scene II.—As the curtain rises ULYSSES and CIRCE are discovered in the foreground: the former occupying a low seat by a tree; the latter reclining near him. Upon the veranda, forming a group by themselves though not far removed from the others, PHILEMON, XENIAS, THERMIA, and PHILINNA are seated at a table, apparently playing at some game by the light of a hanging lamp. ULYSSES and CIRCE are revealed to view by the rays of the moon, which near its full is rising above the palace roof.

CIRCE

Those children are making a brave effort to play at their game,
Ulysses. They pretend to-morrow will be soon enough for parting
salutations.

THERMIA

[_Who has overheard the remark_] O Circe! Philinna cannot play
at all; she throws amiss every time.

CIRCE

Well, I doubt if her Philemon does much better.—There are at
least two aching hearts over there, Ulysses.

ULYSSES

Yet I have remarked Philemon seems not exactly depressed by it.
Indeed both he and Xenias surprise me, how cheerily they await
the event.

CIRCE

They are men: new scenes, new labors summon them; thoughts of
their home. But my poor nymphs must rest contented hereafter
with only me and the even sameness of our days.

ULYSSES

Even so ye lived blithe-hearted ere we came.

CIRCE

Hearts _more_ than blithe we knew not ere ye came.

ULYSSES

Counts not the added bliss as gain meanwhile?

CIRCE

True gain or loss the final balance shows.

ULYSSES

Then, till it’s struck, hope for the winning scale.

CIRCE

Such hopes help mortals cheat themselves, Ulysses,
Even of the present profit.

ULYSSES

But I note,
Thy tacit precept, thine own example, leads us
To drain the brimming cup and count as naught
What pangs might follow.

CIRCE

Ulysses, my example
(For in these closing hours I will confess it)
Hath my soul’s truest insight much belied.
Thou didst with moly baffle my magic art:
The _woman’s_ craft to baffle quite, no helper
Could guide thee to a clue. Hate there was none—
As well thou knowest: my bosom’s pride conceal’d
No sinister, vindictive purpose. But
Poor Circe, worsted, won her mastery back
And turn’d to sportive vengeance her defeat,
When with wise incantations wise Ulysses
She sang to sleep.

ULYSSES

There needed those more weary,
If not more wise, to wake him.

CIRCE

But meanwhile
My gentle partners, my sweet nymphs, I so
Imperilling left—that same mischance whereof
With a vague prescience more than once I warn’d them—
In these new toils ensnared, when the spell broke,
To droop as their own clipt flowers.

[_While the last few words are pronounced there has been brisk talking, not distinctly overheard, on the part of the other group._]

THERMIA

[_Loudly_] O, for shame, Philemon! What a thing to say!

PHILINNA

[_Passionately_] ’Tis _he_; ’tis he himself cares not!

CIRCE

[_Turning toward the veranda, where PHILEMON and XENIAS have just risen to their feet_]

Ah, now! what coil is this? Philinna, speak!

THERMIA

O Circe! ’tis Philemon—and Xenias too; they say
We are but women’s women: at the last moment
(They tell us) we choose _you_!

CIRCE

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._]