“So spake they, and my generous mind was moved. All that day long until the set of sun We sat and feasted on the abundant meats And delicate wines; and when the sun went down They took their rest within the darkened halls, While I to Circè’s sumptuous couch went up, A suppliant at her knees. The goddess heard My prayer, as thus in winged words I said:—
“ ‘O Circè! make, I pray, the promise good Which thou hast given, to send me to my home. My heart is pining for it, and the hearts Of all my friends, who weary out my life Lamenting round me when thou art not nigh.’
“I spake; the mighty goddess thus replied:— ‘Son of Laertes, nobly born and wise, Ulysses! ye must not remain with me Unwillingly; but ye have yet to make Another voyage, and must visit first The abode of Pluto, and of Proserpine His dreaded queen, and there consult the soul Of the blind seer Tiresias—him of Thebes— Whose intellect was spared; for Proserpine Gave back to him in death the power of mind, That only he might know of things to come. The rest are shades that flit from place to place.’
“Thus spake the goddess; and my heart was wrung With sorrow, and I sat upon the couch And wept, nor could I longer wish to live And see the light of day. But when my grief, With shedding tears and tossing where I sat, Was somewhat spent, I spake to Circè thus:—
“ ‘O Circè, who will guide me when I make This voyage? for no galley built by man Has ever yet arrived at Pluto’s realm.’
“I spake; the mighty goddess answered me:— ‘Son of Laertes, nobly born and wise, Take thou no thought of who shall guide thy barque, But raise the mast and spread the glimmering sail, And seat thyself, and let the north-wind waft Thy galley on. As soon as thou shalt cross Océanus, and come to the low shore And groves of Proserpine, the lofty groups Of