everlasting vision to him and him alone … the rest of the dead are empty, flitting shades.' So she said and crushed the heart inside me. I knelt in her bed and wept. I'd no desire to go on living and see the rising light of day. But once I'd had my fill of tears and writhing there, at last I found the words to venture, 'Circe, Circe, who can pilot us on that journey? Who has ever reached the House of Death in a black ship?' The lustrous goddess answered, never pausing, 'Royal son of Laertes, Odysseus, born for exploits , let no lack of a pilot at the helm concern you, no, just step your mast and spread your white sail wide - sit back and the North Wind will speed you on your way. But once your vessel has cut across the Ocean River you will raise a desolate coast and Persephone's Grove, her tall black poplars, willows whose fruit dies young. Poplar tree. Willow tree. Beach your vessel hard by the Ocean's churning shore and make your own way down to the moldering House of Death. And there into Acheron, the Flood of Grief, two rivers flow, the torrent River of Fire, the wailing River of Tears fast-moving stream that branches off from Styx, the Stream of Hate, and a stark crag looms where the two rivers thunder down and meet. Once there, go forward, hero. Do as I say now. Dig a trench of about a forearm's depth and length and around it pour libations out to all the dead - first with milk and honey, and then with mellow wine, then water third and last, and sprinkle glistening barley over it all, and vow again and again to all the dead, to the drifting, listless spirits of their ghosts, that once you return to Ithaca you will slaughter a barren heifer in your halls, the best you have, a structure for burning religious and load a pyre with treasures - and to Tiresias, offerings or dead bodies alone, apart, you will offer a sleek black ram, the pride of all your herds. And once your prayers have invoked the nations of the dead in their dim glory, slaughter a ram and black ewe, turning both their heads toward Erebus, but turn your head away, looking toward the Ocean River. Suddenly then the countless shades

of the dead and gone will surge around you there. skin But order your men at once to flay the sheep that lie before you, killed by your ruthless blade, and burn them both, and then say prayers to the gods, to the almighty god of death and dread Persephone. But you - draw your sharp sword from beside your hip, sit down on alert there, and never let the ghosts of the shambling, shiftless dead come near that blood till you have questioned Tiresias yourself. Soon, soon the great seer will appear before you, captain of armies: he will tell you the way to go, the stages of your voyage, how you can cross the swarming sea and reach home at last.' And with those words Dawn rose on her golden throne and Circe dressed me quickly in sea-cloak and shirt while the queen slipped on a loose, glistening robe, filmy, a joy to the eye, and round her waist she ran a brocaded golden belt and over her head a scarf to shield her brow. And I strode on through the halls to stir my men, hovering over each with a winning word: 'Up now! No more lazing away in sleep, we must set sail - Queen Circe has shown the way.' I brought them round, my hardy friends-in-arms, but not even from there could I get them safely off without a loss … There was a man, Elpenor, the youngest in our ranks, none too brave in battle, none too sound in mind. He'd strayed from his mates in Circe's magic halls and keen for the cool night air, soaked sodden with wine he'd bedded down on her roofs. But roused by the shouts and tread of marching men, awakened he leapt up with a start at dawn but still so dazed he forgot to climb back down again by the long ladder - headfirst from the roof he plunged, his neck snapped from the backbone, his soul flew down to Death. Once on our way, I gave the men their orders: 'You think we are headed home, our own dear land? Well, Circe sets us a rather different course … down to the House of Death and the awesome one, Persephone, there to consult the ghost of Tiresias, seer of Thebes.'