The Enchantments of Circe.
Before the spacious Front, a Herd we find
Of Beasts, the fiercest of the savage Kind.
Our trembling Steps with Blandishments they meet,
And fawn, unlike their Species, at our Feet.
Within upon a sumptuous Throne of State,
On golden Columns, rais'd th' Enchantress sate.
Rich was her Robe, and amiable her Mein,
Her Aspect awful, and she look'd a Queen.
Her Maids not mind the Loom, nor houshold Care,
Nor wage in Needle-work a Scythian War.
But cull in Canisters disastrous Flow'rs,
And Plants from haunted Heaths, and fairy Bow'rs,
With Brazen Sickles reap'd at Planetary Hours.
Each Dose the Goddess weighs with watchful Eye;
So nice her Art in impious Pharmacy!
Entring she greets us with a gracious Look,
And Airs, that future Amity bespoke.
Her ready Nymphs serve up a rich Repast;
The Bowl she dashes first, then gives to taste.
Quick, to our own undoing, we comply;
Her Pow'r we prove, and shew the Sorcery.
Soon, in a Length of Face, our Head extends;
Our Chine stiff Bristles bears, and forward bends:
A Breadth of Brawn new burnishes our Neck;
Anon we grunt, as we begin to speak.
Alone Eurylochus refus'd to taste,
Nor to a Beast obscene the Man debas'd.
Hither Ulysses hastes, (so Fates command)
And bears the pow'rful Moly in his Hand;
Unsheaths his Scymitar, assaults the Dame,
Preserves his Species, and remains the same.
The Nuptial Rite this Outrage strait attends;
The Dow'r desir'd is his transfigur'd Friends.
