roken, in spite of passing relapses.

Then comes the other side of Calypso's character, as already indicated:
she changes, she turns and helps Ulysses put down herself and get away
from her world, furnishing him quite all the means for his voyage. Not
without a certain regret and parting display of her charms does she do
this; still the change is real, and at the last stage we must imagine a
Calypso transformed or partially so.

The enchantress on her magic island is a favorite theme with the Fairy
Tale, and the situation in itself rouses curiosity and wonder. The bit
of land floating on the sea in appearance, yet withstanding wave and
tempest, is, to the sailor, the home of supernatural beings. The story
of Calypso has the tinge of nautical fancy. In like manner the story of
Robinson Crusoe is that of a sea-faring people. We see in it the
ship-wrecked man, the lone island, the struggle with nature for food
and shelter. But Defoe has no supernatural realm playing into his
narrative--no beautiful nymph, no Olympian Gods. That twofold Homeric
conception of an Upper and Lower World, of a human and divine element
in the great experience, is lost; the Englishman is practical,
realistic, utilitarian even in his pious observations, which he flings
into his text from the outside at given intervals.

Ogygia, the abode of Calypso, means the Dark Island, upon which Ulysses
is cast after the destruction of the Oxen of the Sun. Calypso, in
harmony with the name of her abode, signifies the concealer--and that
is what has happened to Ulysses, his light is hidden. She is the
daughter of Atlas, who has two mental traits assigned to him; he is
evil-minded and he knows all the depths of the sea. A demonic being
endowed with his dark knowledge of things out of sight; he has a third
trait also, "he upholds of himself the long pillars which keep Heaven
and Earth apart" (Book I. 53). Naturally under such a burden he is not
in good humor. Calypso is the daughter who, along with her grot, may be
conceived to have risen out of the obscure depths of the sea, with
something of her father's disposition. Doubtless Greek sailors could
behold in her image the dangerous rocks which lurked unseen beneath the
waters around her island. The comparative mythologist finds in her tale
the clouds obscuring or concealing the Sun (here Ulysses) till the
luminary breaks out of his concealment and shines in native glory.
Something of truth lies in these various