“Do thou then stay, Eurylochus?” answered Ulysses:  “eat thou and drink in the ship in safety; while I go alone upon this adventure:  necessity, from whose law is no appeal, compels me.”

So saying he quitted the ship and went on shore, accompanied by none; none had the hardihood to offer to partake that perilous adventure with him, so much they dreaded the enchantments of the witch.  Singly he pursued his journey till he came to the shining gates which stood before her mansion:  but when he essayed to put his foot over her threshold, he was suddenly stopt by the apparition of a young man, bearing a golden rod in his hand, who was the god Mercury.  He held Ulysses by the wrist, to stay his entrance; and “Whither wouldest thou go?” he said, “O thou most erring of the sons of men! knowest thou not that this is the house of great Circe, where she keeps thy friends in a loathsome sty, changed from the fair forms of men into the detestable and ugly shapes of swine? art thou prepared to share their fate, from which nothing can ransom thee?” But neither his words, nor his coming from heaven, could stop the daring foot of Ulysses, whom compassion for the misfortune of his friends had rendered careless of danger:  which when the god perceived, he had pity to see valour so misplaced, and gave him the flower of the herb moly, which is sovereign against enchantments.  The moly is a small unsightly root, its virtues but little known, and in low estimation; the dull shepherd treads on it every day with his clouted shoes:  but it bears a small white flower, which is medicinal against charms, blights, mildews, and damps.—­“Take this in thy hand,” said Mercury, “and with it boldly enter her gates:  when she shall strike thee with her rod, thinking to change thee, as she has changed thy friends, boldly rush in upon her with thy sword, and extort from her the dreadful oath of the gods, that she will use no enchantments against thee:  then force her to restore thy abused companions.”  He gave Ulysses the little white flower, and instructing him how to use it, vanished.

When the god was departed, Ulysses with loud knockings beat at the gate of the palace.  The shining gates were opened, as before, and great Circe with hospitable cheer invited in her guest.  She placed him on a throne with more distinction than she had used to his fellows, she mingled wine in a costly bowl, and he drank of it, mixed with those poisonous drugs.  When he had drunk, she struck him with her charming-rod, and “To your sty,” she cried, “out, swine; mingle with your companions.”  But those powerful words were not proof against the preservative which Mercury had given to Ulysses; he remained unchanged, and as the god had directed him, boldly charged the witch with his sword, as if he meant to take her life:  which when she saw, and perceived that her charms were weak against the antidote which Ulysses bore about him, she cried out and bent her knees beneath his sword, embracing his, and said, “Who or what manner of man art thou?  Never drank any man before thee of this cup, but he repented it in some brute’s form.  Thy shape remains unaltered as thy mind.  Thou canst be none other than Ulysses, renowned above all the world for wisdom, whom the fates have long since decreed that I must love.  This haughty bosom bends to thee.  O Ithacan, a goddess woos thee to her bed.”