Circe
Circe and Odysseus
Of the three crews, but one was left. Ulysses found himself with only forty-five men. He was determined to bring these men home safely or die himself.
They were sailing northward again, and on the third day came in sight of land, low lying,heavily wooded, with a good sheltering harbor. Although they had met terrible treatment everywhere they had landed since leaving Troy, they were out of food, water was running low, and once again they would have to risk the perils of the land.
Ulysses was very cautious. He moored the ship off shore, and said to the crew:
"I shall go ashore myself-alone-to see what there is to see, and make sure there are no terrible hosts, giants, man-eating ogres, or secret sorceries. If I am not back by nightfall, Eurylochus will act as captain. Then he will decide whether to seek food and water here, or sail onward. Farewell."
He lowered a small boat and rowed toward the island, all alone. He beached his skiff and struck inland. The first thing he wanted to do was find out whether he was on an island, or the spur of a mainland. He climbed a low hill, then he climbed to the top of a tree that grew on the hill. He was high enough now for a clear view, and he turned slowly, marking the flash of the sea on all sides. He knew that once again they had landed on an island that the ship was their only means of escape if danger should strike.
Some thing caught his eye. He squinted thoughtfully at what looked like a feather of smoke rising from a grove of trees. The trees were too thick for him to see through. He climbed down and picked his way carefully towards the smoke, trying to make as noise as possible. He came to a stand of might trees-oak trees, thick and tall with glossy leaves. Glimmering through the trees he saw what looked like a small castle made of polished gray stone. He did not dare go near, for he heard strange howling sounds, a pack of dogs, perhaps,but different from any dogs he had heard. So he left the grove and made his way back towards the beach,thinking hard, trying to decide wether to sail away immediately or take a chance on the inhabitants being friendly. He did not like the sound of that howling. There was something in it that froze his marrow. He decided that he would not risk his men on the island, but that he would return to the ship, raise anchor, and sail to seek food elsewhere. Just then a tall white deer with mighty antlers stepped across his path. The great stag had a bearing proud as a king, and did not deign to run, but walked on haughtily as if he knew no one would dare to attack him.
Unfortunately
for the stag, however, Uylesses was too hungry to be impressed by any animal’s
own opinion of himself. The warrior raised his bronze spear and flung
it with all the power of his knotted arm. It sang through the air,
pierced the stag’s body, and nailed him to a tree. The stag died
standing up, still in his pride. He was a huge animal, so large that
Ulysses feared he could not carry him back to the ship unaided. But
then he rembered how hungry hi men were, and he decided to try. He
picked weeds and wove a rope which he twisted and twisted again until it
was as strong as a ships line. Then he bounded the stag’s legs together,
swung the great carcass up onto his back, and staggered off using his spear
as a cane.
He was at the end of
his strength when he reached the beach, and let the deer slip to the sand.
He signaled to his men, who left the ship moored and came ashore on five
small boats. They raised a mighty shout of joy when they seen the
dead stag. All hands fell to. In a twinkling the deer was skinned
and cut up. Fires were lighted, and the delicious smell of roasting
meat drew the gulls to the beach, screaming and dipping, begging for scraps.
The men gorged themselves,
then lay on the sand to sleep. Ulysses, himself, kept guard.
All that night he stood watch, leaning on his spear, looking at the moon
which hung in the sky like an orange, and paled as it climbed. As
he watched, he turned things over in his mind, trying to decide what to
do. While he was still bothered by the eerie howling of the mysterious
animals at the castle, now, with his belly full, he felt less gloomy.
The more he thought about it the wiser it seemed to explore the island
thoroughly and try to determine whether it was a friendly place or
not. For never before had he seen a deer so large. If there
was one, there must be more; and with game like that the e ship could be
provisioned in a few days. Also the island was full of streams from
which they could fill their dry casks with pure water.
"Yes," he said to himself,
"perhaps our luck has changed. Perhaps the god that was playing
with us so spitefully has found other amusements. Yes, we will explore
this island, and see what there is to see."
Next morning he awakened
his men an divided them into two groups, one led by himself, the other
by Eurylochus. He said to Eurylochus, "There is a castle on this
island. We must find out who lives there. If he be friendly,
or not too strong foe, we will hunt and lay in the water until the hold
is full; then we will depart. Now choose, Eurylochus. Would
you rather stay here with your men and guard the ship while I visit the
castle-or would you rather I keep the beach? Choose."
"O Ulysses," Eurylochus
said. " I am sick of the sight of sea. Even as my belly hungers
for food, so does my eyes hunger for leaves and trees witch might recall
our dear Ithaca. And my foot longs to tread something more solid
than a deck-a floor that does not pitch and toss and roll. Pray,
gentle Ulysses, let me and my men try the castle."
"Go," said Ulysses.
"May the gods be with you."
So Eurylochus and the
twenty-one men set out, while Ulysses guarded the ship. As
the band of warriors approached the castle, they too heard a strange howling.
Some of them drew their swords. Others notched arrows to their bowstrings.
They pressed on, preparing to fight. They passed through the grove
of oak trees, and came to where the trees thinned. Here the howling
grew louder and wilder. Then, as they passed the last screen of trees
and came to the courtyard of the shinny gray castle, they saw extraordinary
sight-a pack of wolves and lions running together like dogs-racing about
the courtyard, howling.
When they caught sight
of the men, the animals turned and flung themselves upon the strangers,
so swiftly that no man had time to use his weapon. The great beasts
stood on their hind legs and put their forepaws on the men’s shoulders,
and fawned on them, and licked their faces. They voiced low muttering
growling whines. Eurylochus, who stood half-embracing a huge tawny
lion, said, "Men it is most strange. For these fearsome beasts
greet us as though we were lost friends. They seem to be trying to
talk to us. And look-look-at their eyes. How intelligently
they gleam, how sadly they gaze. Not like beasts’ eyes at all."
"It is true," said one
of the men. "But perhaps there is nothing to fear. Perhaps
there is reason to take heart. For if wild beast are so tame and
friendly, then perhaps the master of the castle, whoever he is or whatever
he is, will be friendly too, and welcome us, and give us good cheer."
"Come," said Eurlochus.
When they reached the
castle gate, the stopped and listened. For the heard a woman singing
in a lovely deep full-throated voice, so that without seeing the woman
the knew she was beautiful.
Eurylochus said, "You
go into the castle and I see what is to been seen. I will stay here,
and make sure you are not surprised."
What do you mean?
You come with us. Listen to that. There can be no danger where
there can be such song.
"Yes, everything seems
peaceful," said Eurylochus. "The wild animals are friendly. Instead
of the clank weapons, We hear a woman singing. And it may be peaceful.
But something says to me, be careful, take heed. Go you, then.
I stay on guard. If I am attacked, and you are unharmed, come to
my aid. If anything happens to you, then I shall take word back to
Ulysses."
So Eurylochus stood
watch at the castle gate-sword in one hand, dagger in the other, bow slung
across his back-and the rest of the man entered the castle. They
followed the sound of the singing through the rooms and out onto a sunny
terrace. There sat a woman weaving. She sat at a huge loom,
larger than they have ever seen, and wove a gorgeous tapestry. As
she wove, she sang. The bright flax leaped through her fingers as
if it were dancing to the music in her voice. The man stood and stared.
The sun seemed to be trapped in her hair, so bright it was; she wore it
long, falling to her waist. Her dress was as blue as the summer sky,
matching her eyes. Her long white arms were bare to the shoulders.
She stood up and greeted them. She was very tall. And the men, looking
at her, and listening to her speak, began to believe that they were in
the presence of a goddess.
She seemed to read thoughts
too, for she said, "No, I am not a goddess. But I am descended from
the Immortals. I am Circe, granddaughter of Helios, a sun-god, who
married Perse, daughter of Oceanus. So what am I-wood nymph,sea nymph,
something of both? I can do simple magic and prophecy, weave certain
homely enchantments and read your dreams. But let us not speak of
me, but of you, strangers. You are adventurers, I see, men of the
sword, men of the black-prowed ships, the hawks of the sea. And you
have come through sore, sad times, and seek a haven here on this western
isle. So be it. I welcome you. For the sweetest spell
Circe weaves is one called hospitality. I have baths drawn for you,
clean garments laid out. And when you are refreshed, you shall come
and dine. For I love brave men and the tales they tell."
When the men had bathed
and changed, Circe gave them each a red bowl. And into each bowl
she put yellow food-a kind of porridge made of cheese, barley, honey, and
wine plus a few other things known only to herself. The odor that
rose from the red bowls was more delicious than anything they had ever
smelled before. And as each man ate he felt himself sinking into
his hunger, becoming his hunger-lapping, panting, grunting, snuffling.
Circe passed among them, smiling, filling the bowls again and again.
And the men, waiting for the bowls to be filled, looking about, seeing
each others face smeared in food, thought, "How strange. We’re eating
like pigs."
Even as the thought
came, it became more true. For as Circe passed among them now she
touched each on the shoulder with a wand, saying "Glut and swink, eat and
drink, gobble and food and guzzle wine. Too rude, I think, for humankind,
quite right, I think, for swine!"
As she said these words
in her lovely laughing voice, the men dwindled. Their noses grew
wide and long, became snouts. Their hair hardened into bristles;
their hands and feet became hooves, and they ran about on all fours, sobbing
and snuffling, searching the floor for bones and crumbs. But all
the time they cried real tears from their little red eyes, for they were
pigs only in form;their minds remained unchanged, and they knew what
was happening to them.
Circe kicked them away
from the table. "To the sties!" she cried. She struck them
with her wand, herding them out of the castle into a large sty. And
there she flung them acorns and chestnuts and and red berries, and watched
them grubbing in the mud for the food she threw. She laughed a wild,
hard, bright laugh, and went back into the castle.
While all this was happening,
Eurylochus was waiting at the gate. When the men did not return he
crept to a bow slit in the castle wall and looked in. It was dark
now. He saw the glimmer of torchlight, and the dim shape of a woman
at a loom, weaving.
He heard a voice singing,the
same enchanting voice he had heard before. But of his men he saw
nothing. Nor did he hear their voices. A great fear seized
him.He raced off as fast as he could, hoping against hope that the beast
would not howl. The wolves and lions stood like statues, walked like
shadows. Their eyes glittered with cold moonlight, but none of them
uttered a sound.
He ran until the breath
strangled in his throat, until his heart tried to crack out of his ribs,but
he kept running, stumbling over roots, slipping on stones. He ran
and ran until he reached the beach and fell swooning in Ulysses’s arms.
Then with his last breath he gasped out a story, told Ulysses of the lions
and the wolves, of the woman singing in the castle, and how the men had
gone in and not come out. And then he slipped onto blackness.
Ulysses said to his
men, "You hear the story Eurylochus tells. I must go to the castle
and see what has happened to your companions.But there is no need for you
to risk yourselves. You stay here. And if I do not return by sun
fall tomorrow, then you must board the ship and sail away, for you will
know I am dead."
The men wept and pleaded
with him not to go, but he said, "I have sworn an oath that I will never
leave another man behind if there is any way I can prevent it. Farewell,
good friends."
It was dawn by the time
he found himself among the oak trees near the castle. He hard the
first faint howling among the animals in the courtyard. And as he
walked through the rose and gray light, a figure started up before him-a
slender youth in gold breastplates and golden hat with wings on it, holding
a golden staff. Ulysses fell to his knees.
"Why do you kneel, venerable
sir?" said the youth?" said the youth. "You are older than I, and
a mighty warrior. You should not kneel."
"Ah, pardon," cried
Ulysses. "I have sharp eyes for some thins. Behind your youth-so
fair-I see time itself strecthing to the beginning of things. Behind
your slenderness I sense the power of a god. Sweet youth, beautiful
lad, I know you. You are Hermes, the swift one, the messenger god.
I pray you have come with good tidings for me because I fear that I have
offended the gods, or one of them anyway, and he has vowed vengeance upon
me."
"It is true ," said
Hermes. "Someone up there doesn’t like you. Can’t say who,
not ethical, you know. But if you should suspect that he may
have something to do with the management of the sea matters, well, you’re
a good guesser, that’s all."
" Poseidon ...
I have offended Poseidon," muttered Ulysses, "the terrible one, the
earth-shaker."
"Well,"said Hermes.
"what do you expect? That unpleasant Cyclopes whom you first blinded,
then taunted is Posedion’s son, you know. Not a son to be proud of,
but blood is thicker than water, as they say, even in the god of the sea.
So Polyphemus tattled to his father, and asked him to do dreadful things
to you, which, I’m afraid, he’s been doing. Now, this castle you
are going to is Circe’s and she is a very dangerous person to meet- sorceress,
a dore of magical mischief. And she is waiting for you, Ulysses.
She sits at her loom, weaving, waiting. For you. She has already
entertained your shipmates. Fed them. Watched them making pigs
of themselves. And, finally, helped the on their way a bit. In brief,
they are now in a sty, being fattened. And one day they will make
a most excellent meal for someone not too fussy. Among Circe’s guest
are many peculiar feeders."
"Thunder and lightning!"
cried Ulysses. "What can I do!"
Listen and learn," said
Hermes. "I have come to help you. Poseidon’s wrath does not
please all of us, you know. We gods have our moods, and they’re not
all ways kind, but somehow or another we must keep things balanced.
And so I have come to help you. You must do exactly as I say, or
nothing can help you. Now listen closely. First take this."
He snapped his fingers
and a flower appeared between his them. It was white and heavily
scented, with a black and yellow root. He gave it to Ulysses.
"It’s called moley,"
he said. "It is magical. So long as you carry it, Circe’s drug
will not work. You will go to the castle. She will greet you
and feed you . You will eat the food which, to her amazement, will
leave you unharmed. Then you will draw your sword and advance upon
her as though you meant to kill her. Then she will see that you have
certain powers, and will begin to plead with you. She will
unveil enchantments more powerful than any she has yet used. Resist
them you cannot, nor can any man, nor any god. Nor is there any counter
spell that will work on such beauty. But if you wish to see your
home again, if you wish to rescue your shipmates from sty, you must resist
her long enough to make her swear the great oath of the immortales-that
she will not do you any harm as long as you are her guest. That is
all I can do for you. From now on, it’s up to you. We shall
be watching you with great intrerst. Farewell."
The golden youth disappeared
just as a ray of sunlight does when a cloud crosses the face of the sun.
Ulysses shook his head, wondering whether he had really seen the god, or
imagined him, but the he saw that he was still holding the curious flower,
and he knew that Hermes had indeed been there. So he marched on towards
the castle, through the pack of lions an wolves, who leaped about him,
fawing, looking at him with their great intelligent eyes, and trying to
warn him with their snarling, growling voices. He stroked their heads,
and passed among them, and went in to the castle.
And here, he found Circe,
sitting at her loom, weaving and singing. She wore a white tunic
now and a flamed-colored scarf, and was as beautiful as the dawn.
She stood up an greeted him, saying , "Welcome, stranger. I live
here alone, and seldom see anyone, and almost never have guest. So
you are triply welcome, great sea-stained warrior, for I know that you
have seen battle and adventure and have tales to tell."
She drew him a warm
perfumed bath, and her servants bathed and anointed him, and gave him clean
garments to wear. When he came to her, she gave him a red bowl full
of yellow food, and said, "Eat," The smelled delicious; it’s fragrance
was intoxicating. Ulysses felt that he wanted to plunge his face
into it and grub it up like a pig, but held the flower tightly, kept control
of himself, and ate slowly. He did not quite finish the food.
"Delicious," he said.
"Your own recipe?"
"Yes," she said.
"Will you not finish?"
"I am not quite so hungry
as I thought."
"Then, drink.
Here’s wine."
She poured her back
as she poured the wine, and he knew that she was casting a powder in it.
He smiled to himself and drank off the wine, then said: "Delicious.
Your own grapes?"
"You look weary, stranger,"
she said. "Sit and talk with me."
"Gladly," said Ulysses.
"We have much to speak of, you and I. I’m something of a farmer myself.
I breed cattle on my little island of Ithaca, where I am king-when I’m
home. Won’t you show me your livestock?"
"Livestock? I
keep no cattle here."
" Oh, do you not?I fancied
I heard pigs back there squealing. Must have been mistaken."
"Yes," said Circe.
"Badly mistaken."
"But you do have interesting
animals. I was much struck by the wolves and lions who course in
a pack like dogs-very friendly for such savage beasts."
"I have taught them
to be friendly," said Circe. "I am friendly myself, you see, and
I like all members of my household to share my goodwill."
"Their eyes," said Ulysses.
"I was struck by their eyes-so big and so sad and so clever. You
know, as I think of it, they look like.... human eyes."
"Did they?" said Circe.
"Well-the eyes go last."
She came to him swiftly,
rasied her wand, touched him on the shoulder, and said: "Change, change,
change! Turn, turn turn!" Nothing happened. Her eyes
widened when she saw him sitting there, unchanged, sniffing at the flower
he had taken from his tunic. He took the wand from her gently, and
snapped it in two. Then drawing his sword he seized her by her long
golden hair and forced her to her knees, pulling her head until her white
throat was offered the blade of the sword. Then he said, "You
have not asked me my name. It is Ulysses. I am an unlucky man,
but not altogether helpless. You have changed my men into pigs.
Now I will change you into a corpse."
She did not flinch before
the blade. Her great blue eyes looked into his. She took the
sharp blade in her hand, stroked it gently, and said, "It is almost worth
dying to be overcome by so mighty warrior. But I think living might
interesting too, now that I have met you."
He tried to turn his
head, but sank deeper into the blueness of her eyes.
"Yes, I am a sorceress,"
she murmured, "a wicked woman. But you are a sorcer too, are you
not? Changing me more than I have changed your men, for I have changed
only their bodies and you have changed my soul. It is no longer a
wicked plotting soul, but soft tender, full of love for you."
Her voice throbbed.
He raised her to her feet, and said "You are beautiful enough to turn any
man into a animal. I will love you. But even before I am a
man, I am a leader. My men are my responsibility. I must ask
you to swear the great oath that will not harm when I am defenseless, that
you will not wound me and suck away my blood as witches do, but will treat
me honestly. And that, first of all, you will restore my men back
to their own form, and let me take them with me when I am ready to leave."
"I will try to see that
you are never ready," said Circe softly.
Circe kept her promise.
The next morning she took Ulysses out to the sty and called the pigs.
They came trotting up, snuffling and grunting. As they streamed past
her, rushing to Ulysses, she touched each one on the shoulder with her
wand. As she did so, each pig stood up, his hind legs grew longer,
his front hooves became hands, his eyes grew, his nose shrank, his quills
softened into hair, and he was his human self once more, only grown taller
and younger.
The men crowded around
Ulysses, shouting and laughing. He said to them: "Welcome, my friends.
You have gone a short but ugly voyage to the animal state. And while
you have returned-looking very well-it is clear that we are in a place
of sorceries and must conduct ourselves with great care. Our enchanting
hostess, Circe, has become so fond of our company that she insist we stay
a while. This, indeed, is the price of your release from hogdom.
So you will now go down to your shipmates on the beach, and tell them what
has happened. Ask them to secure the ship and then return here with
you to the castle. It is another delay in our journey, but it is
far better than what we might have been. Go, then."
The men trooped happily
down to the harbor and told the others what had happened. At first,
Eurylochus protested. "How do I know," he said, "that you are
not still under enchantment? How do I know that this is not some
new trick of the sorceress to get us all into her power, turn us all into
pigs, and keep us in the sty forever?"
But the other men paid
no heed to his warning. They were eager to see the castle and the
beautiful witch, to taste t he delicious food, and enjoy all the luxuries
their friends had described. So they obeyed Ulysses’ commands.
They draged the ship on the beach, beyond reach of the tide, up stepped
its mast, the marched off laughing and marching towards the castle, carrying
mast and oars and folded sail. Eurylochus followed, but he was afraid.
For sometime, things
went well. The men were treated as well as guests. They feasted
for hours each night in the great dinning hall. And as they
ate, they were entertained by minstrels singing, by acrobats, dancing bears,
and dancing girls. During the day they swam in the ocean, hunted
wild boar, threw the discus, had archery and spear-throwing contest, raced,
jumped, and wrestled. Then as dusk drew in they returned to the castle
for their warm perfumed baths and bowls of hot wine before the feasting
began again.
As for Ulysses he found
himself falling deeper under Circe’s spell every day. Thoughts of
home were dim now. He barely rembered his wife’s face. Sometimes
he would think of days gone by and wonder when he could shake off this
enchantment and resume his voyage. Then she would look at him.
And her eyes, like blue flame, burned this pictures out of his head.
Then he could not rest until he was within the scent of her hair, the touch
of her hand. And he would whimper impatiently like a dog dreaming,
shake his head, go to her.
"It is most curious,"
she said. But I love you more than all my other husbands."
"In the name of heaven
how many have you had?" he cried.
" Ah, don’t say it like
that. Not so many, when you consider. I have been a frequent
widow, it is true. But, please understand, I am a god-descended on
both sides. I am immortal an cannot die. I have lived since
the begining of things."
"How many husbands have
you burried, dear widow?"
"Buried? Why,
none."
"I see. You cremate
them."
"I do not let them die.
I cannot bear dead things. Especially if they are things I have loved.
Of all nature’s transformations, death to me seems the most stupid.
No, I do not let them die. I change them into anomals, and the roam
this beautiful island forever more. And I see them everyday and feed
them with my own hand."
"That explains those
wolves and lions in the courtyard, I suppose."
"Ah, they are only the
best, the cream, the mightiest of warriors ages gone. But I have
had lesser husbands. They are now rabbits, squirrles, boars, cats,
spiders, frogs, and monkeys. That little fellow there...."
She pointed to a silvery little ape who was prancing and gibbering on top
of the bedpost."..... he who pelts you with walnut shells every night.
He was very jealous, very busey and jealous, and still is. I picked
their forms, you see, to match their dispositions. Is it thoughtful
of me?"
"Tell me," said Ulysses,
"when I am used up, will I be good enough to join your select band
of wolves and lions, or will I be someting less? A toad, perhaps, or a
snail?"
"A fox, undoughtedly,"
she said. "With swiftness, and your cunning ways-oh, yes, a fox.
A king of foxes." She stroked his beard. "But you are the only
man who ever withstood my speels," she said. "You are my conqueror,
a unique hero. It is not your fate to stay with me.It is not my happy
fate to arrange your last hour."
" Is it not?" said Ulysses
"No," she said "Unless you wipe out of you mind all thoughts of home.
Unless you can erase all dreams of battle and voyage, unless you can forget
your men, and release me from my oath, and let them become animals, then
and then only, can you remain with me as my husband forever. And
I will give you my immortality. Yes, that can be arranged.
I know how. You will share my immortality and live days of sport
and idleness and nights of love. And we will live together always,
knowing no other, and we will never grow old."
"Can such a thing be?"
"Yes. But the
decision is yours. I have sworn an oath, and cannot keep you against
your will. If you choose, you can remain here with, and make this
island a paradise of pleasure. If not, you must resume your voyage,
and encounter dangers more dreadful than any you have ever seen yet.
You will watch friends dying before your eyes, have your own life imperiled
a hundred times, all this, if you leave me. But it is for you to
decide."
Ulysses stood up and
strode to the end of the terrace. From where he stood he could see
the light dancing in a million hot little needels on the blue water.
In the courtyard, at the edge of the wood, he saw his men, happy looking,
healthy, tanned; Some were wrestling, some flinging spears, others drawing
the bow. Circe had crossed to her loom and was weaving, weaving and
singing. He rembered his wife. She also, at home in Ithaca,
would sit and weave. But how different she looked. Her hair
was not fleece of burning gold, but black. She was much smaller than
Circe, and she did not sing.
"I have decided," he
said. "I must go."
"Must you?"
"Yes."
"First let me tell you
what the gods have decreed. If you sail away from this island, you
cannot head for home. First you must go to the Land of the Dead."
"The Land of the Dead?"
cried Ulysses.
"No! No!
It cannot be!"
"To the Land of the
Dead. To Tartartus. This is the decree. You must go there
with all your men. And there you must consult certain ghosts, of
whom you will be told, and they will prophesy for you, and plan your homeward
journrey. And theirs is the route you must followe if you want to
see Ithaca again."
‘The Land of the Dead, dark
Tartus, the realm of torment from which no mortal returns. Must I
go there?"
"Unless you stay with
me here, in peace, in luxury, in every pleasure but that of adventure."
"It cannot be,"said
Ulysses. "As you, beautiful sorceress, choose a form for your lovers
that matches their natures, and which they must wear when the are no longer
men, so the Fates, with their shears, have cut out my destiny. It
is danger, toil, battle, uncertainty. And, thought I stop and refresh
myself now and again, still must I resume my voyage, for that is my nature.
And to fit my nature has fate cut the pattern of my days."
"Go quickly," said Circe.
"Call your men and depart. For if you stay here any longer, I shall
forget forget all duty. I shall break my oath and keep you here by
force and never let you go. Quickly then, brave one, quickly!"
Ulysses summoned his
men and led them down to the beach. They stepped the mast, rigged
the sails, and sailed away. They caught a northwest puff. The
sails filled andthe black ship ran out of the harbor. Ulysses’ face
was wet with Circes last tears and his heart was very heavy. But
then spray dashed into his face with the old remembered bright shock and
he laughed.
The last sound the men
heard as the ship threaded through the mouth of the harbor and ran for
the open sea, was the howling of the lions and wolves who had followed
them down to the beach. They stood now breastdeep in the surf, gazing
after the white sail, crying their loneliness.
copyright 1989
Bernard Evslin
Discoveries in Literature, Scott, Foresman
Jordan D. 2000