“Then, sudden whirling, like a waving flame,
My beamy falchion, I assault the dame. 
Struck with unusual fear, she trembling cries,
She faints, she falls; she lifts her weeping eyes.

“’What art thou? say! from whence, from whom you came? 
O more than human! tell thy race, thy name. 
Amazing strength, these poisons to sustain! 
Not mortal thou, nor mortal is thy brain. 
Or art thou he, the man to come (foretold
By Hermes, powerful with the wand of gold),
The man from Troy, who wander’d ocean round;
The man for wisdom’s various arts renown’d,
Ulysses?  Oh! thy threatening fury cease;
Sheathe thy bright sword, and join our hands in peace! 
Let mutual joys our mutual trust combine,
And love, and love-born confidence, be thine.’

“’And how, dread Circe! (furious I rejoin)
Can love, and love-born confidence, be mine,
Beneath thy charms when my companions groan,
Transform’d to beasts, with accents not their own? 
O thou of fraudful heart, shall I be led
To share thy feast-rites, or ascend thy bed;
That, all unarm’d, thy vengeance may have vent,
And magic bind me, cold and impotent? 
Celestial as thou art, yet stand denied;
Or swear that oath by which the gods are tied,
Swear, in thy soul no latent frauds remain,
Swear by the vow which never can be vain.’

“The goddess swore:  then seized my hand, and led
To the sweet transports of the genial bed. 
Ministrant to the queen, with busy care
Four faithful handmaids the soft rites prepare;
Nymphs sprung from fountains, or from shady woods,
Or the fair offspring of the sacred floods. 
One o’er the couches painted carpets threw,
Whose purple lustre glow’d against the view: 
White linen lay beneath.  Another placed
The silver stands, with golden flaskets graced: 
With dulcet beverage this the beaker crown’d,
Fair in the midst, with gilded cups around: 
That in the tripod o’er the kindled pile
The water pours; the bubbling waters boil;
An ample vase receives the smoking wave;
And, in the bath prepared, my limbs I lave: 
Reviving sweets repair the mind’s decay,
And take the painful sense of toil away. 
A vest and tunic o’er me next she threw,
Fresh from the bath, and dropping balmy dew;
Then led and placed me on the sovereign seat,
With carpets spread; a footstool at my feet. 
The golden ewer a nymph obsequious brings,
Replenish’d from the cool translucent springs;
With copious water the bright vase supplies
A silver laver of capacious size. 
I wash’d.  The table in fair order spread,
They heap the glittering canisters with bread: 
Viands of various kinds allure the taste,
Of choicest sort and savour, rich repast! 
Circe in vain invites the feast to share;
Absent I ponder, and absorb’d in care;
While scenes of woe rose anxious in my breast,
The queen beheld me, and these words address’d: