Page:The Iliad and Odyssey of Homer (IA iliadodysseyofho02home).pdf/236

228 Forth sprang the lot of bold Eurylochus. He went, and with him of my people march'd Twenty and two, all weeping; nor ourselves Wept less, at separation from our friends. Low in a vale, but on an open spot, They found the splendid house of Circe, built With hewn and polish'd stones; compass'd she dwelt By lions on all sides and mountain-wolves Tamed by herself with drugs of noxious pow'rs. Nor were they mischievous, but as my friends Approach'd, arising on their hinder feet, Paw'd them in blandishment, and wagg'd the tail. As, when from feast he rises, dogs around Their master fawn, accustom'd to receive The sop conciliatory from his hand, Around my people, so, those talon'd wolves And lions fawn'd. They, terrified, that troop Of savage monsters horrible beheld. And now, before the Goddess' gates arrived, They heard the voice of Circe singing sweet Within, while, busied at the loom, she wove An ample web immortal, such a work Transparent, graceful, and of bright design As hands of Goddesses alone produce. Thus then Polites, Prince of men, the friend Highest in my esteem, the rest bespake. Ye hear the voice, comrades, of one who weaves An ample web within, and at her task