Circe’s Vengeance on Glaucus

{A}lready Glaucus had passed by Etna, the hot, burning mountain that is ablaze with the fire of hell and set on the giant’s face, and had passed by Gigantea, the land inhabited only by malfeasant giants: oxen did not plow or harrow there. Then he passed by Zancle and Rhegium, and crossed, it seems to me, the cruel sea between Sicily and Lombardy, in which many ships have perished. He strained and exerted himself so much that he crossed the Tuscan Sea and did not stop or slacken until he reached the grassy mountain. He entered the palace of the goddess Circe, the wise enchantress, daughter of the resplendent sun who illuminates everything with his eye. The palace was filled with wildlife, animals of various kinds. When Glaucus saw Circe, he addressed and greeted her, and she returned his greeting. Sighing, Glaucus said to her: [1–26]

“Circe, lady of great worth, full of intellect and good sense, who knows all the strength and medicine of herbs and roots, I beg you to take pity on me and relieve, if you please, O goddess, the great frenzy of love that overwhelms and injures my heart. For, to my mind, no one could help me but you, goddess. My transformation has taught me well that herbs have tremendous power, and if it pleases you that I should tell you the cause of my malady, of the love and madness that so torment my heart, it pleases me that I should tell it to you. [27–43]

“On the coast of Lombardy, I saw the maiden Scylla bathing, and found her incredibly pleasing and beautiful. And, truth be told, I asked if I might have her love but she was so prideful and arrogant that for no love or entreaty, for no promise or flattery did she want to be favorable to me. She refused my love and me, which causes me great grief and great distress. Now I beg you to give me counsel, if there is any power in spells, and put a spell on her and enchant her so that the beauty consents to my love. Or, if herbs are more powerful, use herbs to torment and force her to do my pleasure.