So to Olympus through the woody isle Hermes departed, and I went my way To Circe's halls, sore troubled in my mind. But by the fair-tressed Goddess' gate I stood, And called upon her, and she heard my voice, And forth she came and oped the shining doors And bade me in; and sad at heart I went. Then did she set me on a stately chair, Studded with silver nails of cunning work, With footstool for my feet, and mixed a draught Of her foul witcheries in golden cup, For evil was her purpose. From her hand I took the cup and drained it to the dregs, Nor felt the magic charm; but with her rod She smote me, and she said, 'Go, get thee hence And herd thee with thy fellows in the stye.' So spake she, and straightway I drew my sword Upon the witch, and threatened her with death. Lord Carnarvon, on the whole, has given us a very pleasing version of the first half of the Odyssey. His translation is done in a scholarly and careful manner and deserves much praise. It is not quite Homer, of course, but no translation can hope to be that, for no work of art can afford to lose its style or to give up the manner that is essential to it. Still, those who cannot read Greek will find much beauty in it, and those who can will often gain a charming reminiscence. The Odyssey of Homer. Books I.-XII. Translated into English Verse by the Earl of Carnarvon. (Macmillan and Co.) MR. SYMONDS' HISTORY OF THE RENAISSANCE (Pall Mall Gazette, November 10, 1886.)