"Spare me!" cried Circe. "Spare me, royal and wise Ulysses. For now
I know that thou art he of whom Quicksilver forewarned me, the most
prudent of mortals, against whom no enchantments can prevail. Thou only
couldst have conquered Circe. Spare me, wisest of men. I will show
thee true hospitality, and even give myself to be thy slave, and this
magnificent palace to be henceforth thy home."
The four nymphs, meanwhile, were making a most piteous ado; and
especially the ocean nymph, with the sea-green hair, wept a great deal
of salt water, and the fountain nymph, besides scattering dewdrops from
her fingers' ends, nearly melted away into tears. But Ulysses would
not be pacified until Circe had taken a solemn oath to change back his
companions, and as many others as he should direct, from their present
forms of beast or bird into their former shapes of men.
"On these conditions" said he, "I consent to spare your life. Otherwise
you must die on the spot."
With a drawn sword hanging over her, the enchantress would readily have
consented to do as much good as she had hitherto done mischief, however
little she might like such employment. She therefore led Ulysses out
of the back entrance of the palace, and showed him the swine in their
sty. There were about fifty of these unclean beasts in the whole herd;
and though the greater part were hogs by birth and education, there was
wonderfully little difference to be seen betwixt them and their new
brethren who had so recently worn the human shape. To speak critically,
indeed, the latter rather carried the thing to excess, and seemed to
make it a point to wallow in the miriest part of the sty, and otherwise
to outdo the original swine in their own natural vocation. When men
once turn to brutes, the trifle of man's wit that remains in them adds
tenfold to their brutality.
The comrades of Ulysses, however, had not quite lost the remembrance
of having formerly stood erect. When he approached the sty, two and
twenty enormous swine separated themselves from the herd, and scampered
towards him, with such a chorus of horrible squealing as made him clap
both hands to his ears. And yet they did not seem to know what they
wanted, nor whether they were merely hungry, or miserable from some
other cause. It was curious, in the midst of their distress, to observe
them thrusting their noses into the mire, in quest of something to eat.
The nymph with the bodice of oaken bark (she was the hamadryad of an
oak) threw a handful of acorns among them; and the two and twenty hogs
scrambled and fought for the prize, as if they had tasted not so much
as a noggin of sour milk for a twelvemonth.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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