hat you may not think I approach this temple
of love without a gift, I make you a present of my brother!" "What," she
exclaimed, "would you really sacrifice the only one without whom you
could not live'? The one upon whose kisses your happiness depends. Him
whom you love as I would have you love me?" Such sweetness permeated her
voice as she said this, so entrancing was the sound upon the listening
air that you would have believed the Sirens' harmonies were floating in
the breeze. I was struck with wonder and dazzled by I know not what
light that shone upon me, brighter than the whole heaven, but I made
bold to inquire the name of my divinity. "Why, didn't my maid tell you
that I am called Circe?" she replied. "But I am not the sun-child nor
has my mother ever stayed the revolving world in its course at her
pleasure; but if the Fates bring us two together I will owe heaven a
favor. I don't know what it is, but some god's silent purpose is beneath
this. Circe loves not Polyaenos without some reason; a great torch is
always flaming when these names meet! Take me in your arms then, if you
will; there's no prying stranger to fear, and your 'brother' is far away
from this spot!" So saying, Circe clasped me in arms that were softer
than down and drew me to the ground which was covered with colored
flowers.

With flowers like these did Mother Earth great Ida's summit strew
When Jupiter, his heart aflame, enjoyed his lawful love;
There glowed the rose, the flowering rush, the violet's deep blue,
From out green meadows snow-white lilies laughed. Then from above,
This setting summoned Venus to the green and tender sod,
Bright day smiled kindly on the secret amour of the God.

Side by side upon the grassy plot we lay, exchanging a thousand kisses,
the prelude to more poignant pleasure, (but alas! My sudden loss of
vigor disappointed Circe!)

CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-EIGHT.

(Infuriated at this affront,) "What's the matter," demanded she; "do my
kisses offend you? Is my breath fetid from fasting? Is there any evil
smelling perspiration in my armpits? Or, if it's nothing of this kind,
are you afraid of Giton?" Under her eyes, I flushed hotly and, if I had
any virility left, I lost it then; my whole body seemed to be inert. "My
queen," I cried, "do not mock me in my humiliation. I am bewitched!"
(Circe's anger was far from being appeased by such a trivial excuse;
tu