One draped the chairs with fine crimson covers over the seats she'd spread with linen cloths below. A second drew up silver tables before the chairs and laid out golden trays to hold the bread. A third mulled heady, heart-warming wine brewed in a silver bowl and set out golden cups. A fourth brought water and lit a blazing fire beneath a massive cauldron. The water heated soon, and once it reached the boil in the glowing bronze she eased me into a tub and bathed me from the cauldron, mixing the hot and cold to suit my taste, showering head and shoulders down until she'd washed away the spirit-numbing exhaustion from my body. The bathing finished, rubbing me sleek with oil, throwing warm fleece and a shirt around my shoulders, she led me in to sit on a silver-studded chair, ornately carved, with a stool to rest my feet. A maid brought water soon in a graceful golden pitcher and over a silver basin tipped it out so I might rinse my hands, then pulled a gleaming table to my side. A staid housekeeper brought on bread to serve me, appetizers aplenty too, lavish with her bounty . She pressed me to eat. I had no taste for food. I just sat there, mind wandering, far away … lost in grim forebodings . As soon as Circe saw me, huddled, not touching my food, immersed in sorrow, she sidled near with a coaxing, winged word: slowly approached 'Odysseus, why just sit there, struck dumb, eating your heart out, not touching food or drink? Suspect me of still more treachery? Nothing to fear. Haven't I just sworn my solemn, binding oath?' So she asked, but I protested, 'Circe- how could any man in his right mind endure the taste of food and drink before he'd freed his comrades-in-arms and looked them in the eyes? If you, you really want me to eat and drink, set them free, all my beloved comrades - let me feast my eyes.'

So I demanded. Circe strode on through the halls and out, her wand held high in hand and, flinging open the pens, drove forth my men, who looked like full-grown swine. Facing her, there they stood as she went along the ranks, anointing them one by one with some new magic oil - and look, the bristles grown by the first wicked drug that Circe gave them slipped away from their limbs and they turned men again: younger than ever, taller by far, more handsome to the eye, and yes, they knew me at once and each man grasped my hands and a painful longing for tears overcame us all, a terrible sobbing echoed through the house … The goddess herself was moved and, standing by me, warmly urged me on - a lustrous goddess now: 'Royal son of Laertes, Odysseus, tried and true, go at once to your ship at the water's edge, haul her straight up on the shore first and stow your cargo and running gear in caves, then back you come and bring your trusty crew.' Her urging won my stubborn spirit over. Down I went to the swift ship at the water's edge, and there on the decks I found my loyal crew consumed with grief and weeping live warm tears. But now, as calves in stalls when cows come home, droves of them herded back from field to farmyard once they've grazed their fill- as all their young calves come frisking out to meet them, bucking out of their pens, mooing lowing nonstop, jostling, rushing round their mothers - so my shipmates there at the sight of my return came pressing round me now, streaming tears, so deeply moved in their hearts they felt as if they'd made it back to their own land, their city, Ithaca's rocky soil where they were bred and reared. And through their tears their words went winging home: 'You're back again, my king! How thrilled we are- as if we'd reached our country, Ithaca, at last! But come, tell us about the fate our comrades met.' Still I replied with a timely word of comfort: 'Let's haul our ship straight up on the shore first