Chapter 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._]