One day Glaucus saw the beautiful maiden Scylla, the favorite of the water-nymphs, rambling on the shore, and when she had found a sheltered nook, laving her limbs in the clear water.  He fell in love with her, and showing himself on the surface, spoke to her, saying such things as he thought most likely to win her to stay; for she turned to run immediately on the sight of him, and ran till she had gained a cliff overlooking the sea.  Here she stopped and turned round to see whether it was a god or a sea animal, and observed with wonder his shape and color.  Glaucus partly emerging from the water, and supporting himself against a rock, said, “Maiden, I am no monster, nor a sea animal, but a god; and neither Proteus nor Triton ranks higher than I. Once I was a mortal, and followed the sea for a living; but now I belong wholly to it.”  Then he told the story of his metamorphosis, and how he had been promoted to his present dignity, and added, “But what avails all this if it fails to move your heart?” He was going on in this strain, but Scylla turned and hastened away.

Glaucus was in despair, but it occurred to him to consult the enchantress Circe.  Accordingly he repaired to her island—­the same where afterwards Ulysses landed, as we shall see in one of our later stories.  After mutual salutations, he said, “Goddess, I entreat your pity; you alone can relieve the pain I suffer.  The power of herbs I know as well as any one, for it is to them I owe my change of form.  I love Scylla.  I am ashamed to tell you how I have sued and promised to her, and how scornfully she has treated me.  I beseech you to use your incantations, or potent herbs, if they are more prevailing, not to cure me of my love,—­for that I do not wish,—­but to make her share it and yield me a like return.”  To which Circe replied, for she was not insensible to the attractions of the sea-green deity, “You had better pursue a willing object; you are worthy to be sought, instead of having to seek in vain.  Be not diffident, know your own worth.  I protest to you that even I, goddess though I be, and learned in the virtues of plants and spells, should not know how to refuse you.  If she scorns you scorn her; meet one who is ready to meet you half way, and thus make a due return to both at once.”  To these words Glaucus replied, “Sooner shall trees grow at the bottom of the ocean, and sea-weed on the top of the mountains, than I will cease to love Scylla, and her alone.”

The goddess was indignant, but she could not punish him, neither did she wish to do so, for she liked him too well; so she turned all her wrath against her rival, poor Scylla.  She took plants of poisonous powers and mixed them together, with incantations and charms.  Then she passed through the crowd of gambolling beasts, the victims of her art, and proceeded to the coast of Sicily, where Scylla lived.  There was a little bay on the shore to which Scylla used to resort, in the heat of the day, to breathe the air