Foolish boy! Why tremblest thou? Thou lovest it, then, my wine? Wouldst more of it? See, how glows, Through the delicate, flush'd marble, The red, creaming liquor, Strown with dark seeds! Drink, then! I chide thee not, Deny thee not my bowl. Come, stretch forth thy hand, then--so! Drink--drink again! _The Youth_ Thanks, gracious one! Ah, the sweet fumes again! More soft, ah me, More subtle-winding That Pan's flute-music! Faint--faint! Ah me, Again the sweet sleep! _Circe_ Hist! Thou--within there! Come forth, Ulysses! Art tired with hunting? While we range the woodland, See what the day brings. _Ulysses_ Ever new magic! Hast thou then lured hither, Wonderful Goddess, by thy art, The young, languid-eyed Ampelus, Iacchus' darling-- Or some youth beloved of Pan, Of Pan and the Nymphs? That he sits, bending downward His white, delicate neck To the ivy-wreathed marge Of thy cup; the bright, glancing vine-leaves That crown his hair, Falling forward, mingling With the dark ivy-plants-- His fawn-skin, half untied, Smear'd with red wine-stains? Who is he, That he sits, overweigh'd By fumes of wine and sleep, So late, in thy portico? What youth, Goddess,--what guest Of Gods or mortals? _Circe_ Hist! he wakes! I lured him not hither, Ulysses. Nay, ask him! _The Youth_ Who speaks? Ah, who comes forth To thy side, Goddess, from within? How shall I name him? This spare, dark-featured, Quick-eyed stranger? Ah, and I see too His sailor's bonnet, His short coat, travel-tarnish'd, With one arm bare!-- Art thou not he, whom fame This long time rumours The favour'd guest of Circe, brought by the waves? Art thou he, stranger? The wise Ulysses, Laertes' son? _Ulysses_ I am Ulysses. And thou, too, sleeper? Thy voice is sweet. It may be thou hast follow'd Through the islands some divine bard, By age taught many things, Age and the Muses; And heard him delighting The chiefs and people In the banquet, and learn'd his songs, Of Gods and Heroes, Of war and arts, And peopled cities, Inland, or built By the grey sea.--If so, then hail! I honour and welcome thee. _The Youth_ The Gods are happy. They turn on all sides Their shining eyes, And see below them The earth and men.