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_]
Never! Never!
The door behind the dais opens, a golden light fills the passage-way thus
revealed, and MERCURY, brilliantly arrayed as in the second scene of the
play, stands forth upon the platform. His step gives no sound; and, as he
extends his hands (one holding the winged wand) gently forward over the
company, all the men feel the soothing influence without turning their
heads to observe its source; while ULYSSES, and the others who stand,
sink quietly to their seats in motionless attitude. ULYSSES slightly bows
his head. The inmates of the palace are not affected like the guests;
they maintain their former demeanor; but CIRCE lowers her hand with the
wand to the table before her.
MERCURY
By the Father sent
I come this time, to loose the tangled web
Of crossing motive, Circe, in thy bowers.
He in the scales of fate the fortunes weigh’d
Of these thy mortal visitors all, thine own,
Of thy beloved nymphs; and bade me speed,
Taking my wand, wherewith for woe or weal
I seal men’s eyes and, when I will, unseal.
The offending youths—already are they
Themselves in closer toils of slumber caught
Than the charm’d herb upon the maiden brought.
At my behest their living phantoms glide;
Upward or downward their blind steps I guide.
[_Without turning, the god raises his wand gently with backward movement
of the hands, and in the wide opening behind him the forms of PHILEMON
and XENIAS appear, standing side by side. Their eyes are closed;
their features pallid in the weird light; their look is of complete
unconsciousness. THRATTIS strikes major chords._]
Their fault the Father pardons; and decrees
They shall be toss’d no more on billowy seas,
But to their lives’ end tread the enchanted soil
Which of its bloom they plotted to despoil.
[_MERCURY sways the wand slowly from behind forward, and the two sleepers
(PHILEMON first, XENIAS close behind him) guided by the spell pass across
the dais, gliding down behind the banqueters until they reach a position
between THERMIA and PHILINNA’S couch. Their footsteps give no sound;
their movement is mechanical; in the place indicated they stand stiff and
motionless with closed eyes._]
MERCURY
Arise, Ulysses!
[_ULYSSES stands up; and simultaneously his men all rise silently to
their feet._]
Now thy waiting bark
Swims in the darkling haven; but full soon
Eos her saffron portals will unbar
And wake the convoy breezes. Tarry not!—
Thy crew the Father’s stern assignments claim;
I sign them to _march_, FORWARD! in his name.
[_The funeral march which closed the song of THRATTIS is played softly,
and the men pass out behind MERCURY in single file, moving noiselessly
and with the utmost precision, as if under the hypnotizing influence
of the wand waved above them. The company of EURYLOCHUS marches first,
headed by their leader and GLAUCUS, THERON and ELPENOR bringing up the
rear. The other company, excepting PHILEMON and XENIAS, immediately
follows. ULYSSES, who has donned his helmet, begins to speak as the last
man passes and the music ceases._]
ULYSSES
To gloom of future fates beholden fast,
The parting hour yet beckons toward the past.
What blessings lay beneath rapt moments hidden
Now to the pictured memory rise unbidden;
Each, as with pointed stylus’ steely smart,
Prick’d and deep graven on the shrinking heart.—
Farewell! O sorceress benign, farewell!
He knows not _life_, who knows not CIRCE’S spell.
[_ULYSSES turns and goes out. The music begins again in the major key.
MERCURY, poised upon one foot in an attitude similar to that presented
by a familiar statue of the god, leans far forward with wand pointed
straight at the sleepers. PHILINNA opens her eyes and slowly rises to
a sitting posture on her couch. PHILEMON and XENIAS open their eyes
and draw long breaths. PHILINNA, turning first toward CIRCE, with one
hand clasps the left hand of the Enchantress; then, with the other,
recognizing PHILEMON, takes his right. THERMIA, when XENIAS wakes, seizes
his left hand with her own, and with a joyous look lays her right upon
his shoulder. The two youths have themselves joined hands. MYRTO seated,
whom_ Mikkos _strives to reach, holds him firmly at arm’s length by the
collar. GRAEA, standing beside THRATTIS, whip in hand, glares fiercely at
the exit._
_The countenance of CIRCE is deeply sad. Her wand lies relinquished upon
the table. She continues to gaze, as if into vague distance, in the
direction of her departed guest._]
CURTAIN