ght. Her song, sung by bass voices behind the
scene, is about her children, the elect, the conquerors of the world, a
race of men steeled by suffering, that struggle from darkness to light;
who, lost and wandering during life, with vehement longings, yet remain
blind, till in death their eyes are opened--but too late!

Then Eos, as conqueror of the world swings in a galop on his lion to
Olympus, singing to his {404} lyre in praise of Love, the Conqueror, to
whom men and Gods bow. Olympus appears beyond the clouds. There the
Gods are assembled in council to decide the fate of Odysseus. Athene
and Hermes plead for the sorely-tried hero. Zeus answers that the
immortal Gods know and have determined every step of man's life. He
gives his sanction to Athene and Hermes to watch over and defend
Odysseus. Again clouds hide the scene. When they part we find
ourselves in Sicily before the cavern of Polyphemus the Cyclops. Here
Odysseus carries out the cunning plan he has made to free his
companions from certain death at the hands of the giant. He blinds the
Cyclops with a red-hot stake, and escapes with his friends by clinging
to the long fleece of the sheep of Polyphemus, who unsuspectingly lets
them out in the morning to graze. Polyphemus, finding himself
outwitted by Odysseus,--who makes himself known when at a safe
distance,--curses the hero and vows vengeance upon him, calling his
father Poseidon to pursue Odysseus with his fury at sea. Friendly
sea-nymphs, and Eos (the Dawn) hover round the heroes' ship and speed
them in safety on their way.

Act I.

When the curtain rises the kingdom of Kirke, daughter of the sun-god
Helios, lies before us, bathed in glowing sunshine. The foreground is
a luxurious garden whose groves of palms and fantastic southern trees
extend in deepening shade into the background. {405} A colossal sphinx
crouches at the gates of Kirke's palace on the left. Springs of water,
represented by four attendant nymphs sing to their queen in melodious
harmony. But Kirke--a lovely vision in soft flowing robes of yellow
hue, with masses of red-gold hair, crowned with sun flowers--cannot be
cheered by their sweet songs. She lies on her leopard-skin couch sunk
in melancholy; she despairs of ever finding a hero worthy of her love.
In wildest grief she bewails her hard lot; many suitors have presented
themselves, all have proved low and ignoble in their aims and
intentions. She has by her magic g