left, and its opposing shore
Where Rhegium's turrets tower; and the strait sea
For shipwreck fam'd, which by incroaching shores
Press'd narrow, forms the separating bound
Betwixt Ausonia's and Sicilia's land.
Thence glides he swift along the Tyrrhene coast,
By powerful arms impell'd, and gains the dome,
And herbag'd hills of Circe Phoebus sprung:
(The dome with forms of wildest beasts full cramm'd)
Whom, soon as greeting salutations pass'd,
He thus address'd:--"O powerful goddess! grant
"Thy pity to a god; and thou alone,
"If worth that aid thou deem'st me, canst afford
"Aid to my love. For, O Titanian maid!
"To none the power of plants is better known
"Than me, who by the power of plants was chang'd.
"But lest the object of my lore, to thee
"Unknown, be hid; I Scylla late beheld
"Upon th' Italian shore: Messenia's walls
"Opposing. Shame me hinders to relate
"What promises, what prayers, what coaxing words
"I us'd: my words all heard with proud contempt.
"Do thou with magic lips thy charms repeat,
"If power in charms abides: or if in herbs
"More force is found, then use the well-try'd strength
"Of herbs of power. I wish thee not to soothe
"My heart; I wish thee not these wounds to cure;
"Still may they last, let her such flames but feel."

Then Circe spoke, (and she a mind possess'd
Most apt to flame with love, or in her frame
The stimulus was plac'd; or Venus, irk'd
At what her sire discover'd, caus'd the heat.)
"O, better far the willing nymph pursue
"Who would in wishes meet thee; wh'o is seiz'd
"With equal love: well worthy of the maid
"Thou wast; nay shouldst have been the first besought;
"And if but hope thou wilt afford, believe
"My words, thou shalt spontaneously be lov'd.
"Fear not, but on thy beauteous form depend;
"Lo! I, a goddess! of the splendid sun
"A daughter, who with powerful spells so much
"And herbs can do, to be thy consort sue.
"Spurn her who spurns thee; her who thee desires
"Desiring meet; and both at once avenge."
But to her tempting speeches Glaucus thus
Reply'd--"The trees shall sooner in the waves
"Spring up, and sea-weed on the mountain's top,
"Than I, while Scylla lives, my love transfer."
The goddess swol'n with anger, since his form
To harm 'twas given her not, and love deny'd,
Turn'd on her happier rival all her rage.
Irk'd at her slighted passion, straight she grinds