I wanted to tell you that I didn’t leave. That I’m still here, even though I am gone. I still care. For Europe’s blood and soil. Even though I am no longer “free” to say it. Please continue on.
You guys wouldn’t want to read the other crap I drafted, so I made a haiku “on the fly”. Then I coded it because I’m a mean, mean little girl. Ha.
1/40/73/54/77/9 * 54/1 * 34/9/13/84/1/2 * 67/42/73/42
12/42/3/54/12/42 * 473/67/34/2 * 76/84/23 * 473/34/77/2 * 2/84 * 40/9/34/77/2
2/67/42 * 42/34/73/2/67 * 54/1 * 473/34/54/2/54/77/9
On a different subject, I feel that calming music is perfect for this time of year. Not to sound too hippie about it, but late winter going into early spring is like waiting for the earth to be born or wake up. Like the snow covering everything is a blanket or something to that effect. Then when the snow melts the blanket is taken away and we can only hope the earth doesn’t wake up cranky. So while we’re waiting it seems appropriate to listen to something calming while the earth sleeps. We are, after all, connected to the earth – at least in the sense that it allows us to live, so if the earth is calmly sleeping it wouldn’t be insensible to follow that example. Otherwise it would be like walking through a fresh coat of snow, disturbing the earth from its sleep. An inappropriately excessive amount of energy on our part would damage that connection to the sleeping thing. It’s the perfect excuse to huddle inside away from the cold with a nice cup of hot chocolate or tea or whatever.
I guess I don’t have anything interesting or important to say today. It happens.
Frey, the son of Njorth, one day had seated himself on Hlithskjalf and looked over all the worlds. Then saw he in the world of etins a fair maiden as she went from the hall of her father to her bower. And that sight made him heavy of heart. Skírnir (“The Resplendent”; possibly an epithet or hypostasis of Frey) was the name of Frey’s servitor. Njorth bade him to make Frey speak out.
“Arise now, Skírnir, and ready make thee
to summon my son,
and find out this from the wise youth,
whom he doth hate.”
“For waspish words I well may look,
if I summon thy son
to find out this from the wise youth,
whom he doth hate.”
“Wilt tell me, Frey, foremost among gods,
and answer me as I ask:
why sittest thou lonely, my lord, all day
with heavy heart in thy hall?”
“How tell thee my yearning, oh youth, as thou wishest-
why heavy my heart?
The alf’s beam (Kenning for “the sun”) shineth all these long days,
but lighter groweth not my longing.”
“Thy heart’s not so heavy, I hold, but thou mayst
open it to another;
for in days of yore we young were together:
truly thou mightest trust me.”
“From on high I beheld in the halls of Gymir (a giant)
a maiden to my mind;
her arms did gleam, their glamor filled
all the sea and the air.
“This maiden is to me more dear
than maiden to any man;
but Æsir and alfs all will have it
that strangers ay we stay.
“In my behalf her hand shalt ask,
and home bring her hither,
her father let or allow it:
good shall thy guerdon be.”
“Thy steed then lend me to lift me o’er weird
ring of flickering flame,
the sword also that swings itself
against the tribe of trolls.”
“My steed I lend thee to lift thee o’er weird
ring of flickering flame,
the sword also which swings itself,
if wise he who wields it.”
Skírnir said to his steed:
“Night is it now, now we shall fare
over moist mountains,
to the thurses’ throng;
scatheless we both shall ‘scape their might,
or else both be o’erborne by the etins.”
Skírnir rode into etin-home and to Gymir’s court. There were savage dogs tied to the gate of the enclosure about Gerth’s bower.
Skírnir rode to where a shepherd sate on a mound, and greeted him:
“Say thou, shepherd, sitting on hill,
who dost watch all ways:
how win I the welcome of the winsome maid
through the grim hounds of Gymir?”
The shepherd said:
“Whether art thou doomed, or dead already,
*in the stirrup who standest
Never shalt thou win the welcome to have
of the good daughter of Gymir.”
*(That line was inserted with Grundtvig.)
“Ne’er a whit will whine, whatso betide,
who is eager on errand bent;
my fate is foretold me to the time of a day,
allotted is all my life.”
“What outcry and uproar within out courts (“We must assume that Skírnir has caused his steed to leap over the wall of flame.”)
hear I now, handmaid?
The earth doth shake and all my father
Gymir’s high halls.”
The handmaid said:
“By his steed here stands a stranger youth,
unbridles and baits him;
he wishes, I ween, welcome to have
from the good daughter of Gymir.”
“Bid to my bower the bold-minded come,
to meet me and drink our mead;
though far from us, I fear me, is not
my brother’s banesman (“Either Skírnir has slain the shepherd who was her brother, or else the allusion is to Frey’s (Skírnir’s) slaying of the giant Beli.”)
“Whether art of the alfs or of Æsir come,
or art thou a wise Van?
Through furious fire why farest alone
to behold out halls?”
“Neither alf am I, nor of Æsir come
nor a wise Van;
through furious fire yet fared I alone
to behold your halls.
“Apples eleven (may have been a mistranslation from “apples of everlasting youth” since there is no significance to the number eleven) have I all golden;
to thee, Gerth, I shall give them,
to hear from thy lips thou lovest Frey,
and deemest him dearest to thee.”
“Thy apples eleven not e’er shall I take
to do any wight’s will;
nor shall I ever with Njorth’s son Frey
dwell while our lives do last.”
“Draupnir, the ring, then thy dowry shall be,
which with Baldr was burned;
eight rings as dear will drop from it
every ninth night.”
“Draupnir*, the ring, I do not want,
though it with Baldr was burned;
gold I lack not in Gymir’s halls,
to deal out daily.”
*(“Dripper.” “This ring had been given Óthin by a dwarf… After Baldr was burned on the pyre, he returned the ring to Óthin from Hel.)
“This mottled blade, dost, maiden, see it
which here I hold in my hand?
Thy haughty head I hew from thy neck
but thou yield thy love to the youth.”
“Nor gold nor sword will gain it over me
any wight’s will to do;
if Gymir, my father, did find thee here,
fearless warrior, ye would fight to the death.”
“This mottled blade, dost, maiden, see it,
which here I hold in my hand?
Before its edge the etin falls,
and is thy father fey.
“With this magic wand bewitch thee I shall,
my will, maiden, to do;
where the sons of men will see thee no more,
thither shalt thou!
“On the eagle-hill (possibly Kenning for “mountain peak”) shalt ever sit,
aloof from the world, lolling toward Hel.
To thee men shall be more loathsome far
than to mankind the slimy snake.
“An ugly sight, when out thou comest,
even Hrímir (possibly “Frost Giant”) will stare at and every hind glare at,
more widely known than the warder of gods, (= Heimdall)
and shalt gape through the gate. (meaning she is to be kept prisoner of the giants)
“Shalt drivel and dote, and drag through life,
with salt tears shalt sorrow;
shalt sit as I say, with sadness heavy,
feel twofold torment
with heavy heart.
“Imps shall nip thee, all the long days
thou art with the etins;
to frost-giants’ hall shalt hobble all days,
cringe under curse,
cringe under care.
For play shall weeping thy pastime be:
live a loathly life with tears!
“With three-headed thurs, thwarted, thou shalt live,
or else unwedded be;
lust shall lash thee,
weakness waste thee:
be like the thistle which is thrust under,
when the harvest is harbored.*
*(“In explanation of these lines, M. Olsen has called attention to the Esthonian harvest custom of laying a thistle weighted with a stone into a window opening to prevent damage from malicious grain demons.”)
“To the woods I wended, to the wet forest,
a magic wand me to make,
and a magic wand I made me.
“Thou hast angered Óthin, the uppermost god;
Frey will frown on thee,
thou wicked wench! Woe betide thee,
thou hast the great gods’ wrath.
“Hear ye frost-giants, hear ye etins,
ye sons of Suttung, all ye sibs of the Æsir:
how I forbid, how I debar
men’s mirth to the maid,
men’s love to the maid.
“Hrímgrimnir is hight who shall have thee, a thurs,
there, slavering slaves shall serve thee ‘neath tree roots
with staling of stinking goats.
No other drink shalt ever get,
wench at thy will,
wench at my will!
“A ‘thurs’ rune for thee, and three more I scratch:
lechery, loathing, and lust;
off I shall scratch them, as on I did scratch them,
if of none there be need.”
“Hail, rather, hero, and hold to thy lips
this crystal cup with mead;
though hardly thought I that hence I should fare,
to be a Van’s wife.”
“My errand I would know altogether,
ere hence I ride home.
When art minded to meet the strong one,
and welcome to wise son of Njorth?”
“Barri is hight, as both we know,
for true love a trysting glade.
After nights nine to Njorth’s son there
will Gerth grant her love.”
Then rode Skírnir home. Frey stood without and greeted him and asked what tidings he brought:
“Say now, Skírnir, ere thou unsaddle the steed
and set one foot forward:
what errand bringest thou from etin-home,
of mark for thee or me?”
“Barri is hight, as both we know,
for true love a trysting glade.
After nights nine to Njorth’s son there
will Gerth grant her love.”
“Long is a night, longer are two-
how shall I thole three?
Shorter to me a month oft seemed,
than part of this night of pining.”*
*(“The last line is uncertain.”)
Well I wanted to post this on New Year’s Day, but everything was closed including this library! Ugh. It was terribly disappointing. Anyway, here’s a very rambling post to start the new year.
If you think about it, there’s actually a lot of work that goes into being lazy these days. You have your microwaves and your dishwashers and so on. You use them and then go back to your television or whatever. Of course these things can be manufactured by people and it creates jobs when they are (not that we’d need this if overpopulation wasn’t such a huge issue). Then those workers can take their earnings and go purchase other useless junk that will allow them to be more lazy and to waste as much of their free time as possible. But… they could just save their earnings and do things themselves. Normal cooking and cleaning is generally pretty easy – even when done by hand – and people don’t need these superfluous distractions anyway. People don’t need to know who is dating who on what soap opera or sitcom or whatever and people don’t need dozens of pointless so-called “apps” on their stupid phones. They don’t need very advanced hi-tech phones either. It would make more sense to save a few bucks and instead put it into things like sending their kids to a school where they’ll actually learn something (well no one wants to pay for homeschooling, do they?) or into buying organic food – even if only for the purpose of bragging about it to people. But for some reason many people would rather be lazy, let machines do their work and cram trashy excuses for entertainment into their brains while wasting away in their chairs and couches, stuffing their fat faces while they slowly die a hideous death. I guess I’m getting off-topic. Another concern regarding laziness is the potential people have to become far more dependent on machines than what one might consider to be reasonable. It’s weird enough to have a robot vacuum when you are perfectly capable of doing this yourself, but when you do something like drive to your mailbox because you can’t be bothered to stand and walk for a damn minute, then there’s something wrong with you. It might be reasonable if you happen to be very elderly or missing one of your legs or something like that (or if one of your legs happens to be detached from the rest of you and you know exactly where it is), but people generally don’t have these issues. Seriously the mailbox is at the end of your driveway. Is your driveway going to disintegrate the moment you step foot on it? Because I don’t think it will. Nor will it detach from the rest of the earth and, independent of gravity, carry you into outer space where you cannot reach your reclining chair. Anyway, laziness is generally deemed to be unhealthy so logic would imply that it should be avoided. One could at least do a bare minimum of 15 minutes of jogging per diem to help combat this (I personally prefer 20-40 but meh). I suppose someone married to a screen could at least start by doing some constant jumping jacks or push-ups during commercials or boring parts. And now that I think of it… If I remember correctly it ordinarily takes machines over 20 minutes to wash dishes. Maybe 30. So maybe that time could be used for exercising to help eradicate the laziness? Just a thought. Pop on the jogging shoes – bring the kids and the dog or whatever (not the iguana because I think they’re a bit slow to be jogging). Take some friends and avoid conga lines. Brilliant. Just don’t jog for, like, two damn seconds and pretend that’s the same as 20 minutes. It isn’t. It doesn’t even count because that’s how pathetic it is.
P.S. About conga lines: done at normal speed after a jog they will probably lower your heart rate back to about normal and done at jogging speed you’ll just end up kicking people in the knees or shins, so it really would be best to avoid them. That situation would be terrible for everyone except the person at the front of the line. Then if the line ends join and people make a conga circle that somehow spills out into the street it can block traffic. Then someone might get hurt and/or everyone could get in trouble. It would just be awful. They’re total safety hazards…
Okay, I’ve had my fun for now. I guess I’ll have to write a more serious post next time… 🙂
From the same reader as before. The author of the poem is credited in the text under the line. Good luck in your learning!
Diktet Til Min Gyllenlakk skrev Wergeland på dødsleiet, og det er et av de siste dikt han skrev.
Til Min Gyllenlakk
Gyllenlakk, før du din glans har tapt,
da er jeg det hvorav alt er skapt;
ja, før du mister din krones gull,
da er jeg muld.
Idet jeg roper: med vindvet opp!
mitt siste blikk får din gyllentopp.
Min sjel deg kysser idet forbi
den flyver fri.
To ganger jeg kysser din søte munn.
Ditt er det første med rettens grunn.
Det annet give du – kjære, husk! –
Utsprungen får jeg den ei å se;
ti bring min hilsen når det vil skje;
og si jeg ønsker at på min grav
den blomstrer av.
Ja, si jeg ønsker at på mitt bryst
den rose lå du fra meg har kyst;
og, gyllenlakk, vær i dødens hus
I have another code! This one is almost entirely new, but if anyone here took the trouble to solve the last one, there are six characters that have remained the same. Five others look similar but the process has been reversed. The rest are random. Unfortunately this has resulted in some of the characters looking like they are punctuation in the quote when some of them are not. Oh well. At least I kept the spacing this time to make it easier.
Also, this is another quote from Mein Kampf. Just letting you know.
*- ^2.54+ 2.54 +&2.54( 2.54)-*-+1.97(*-*+(
^&*O& ^2.54+ 2.54/4.72/4.72; 15.24Q#
+1.97O53.34#*-B; -&1.97B -&Q53.34/2.76&-
-&1.97B &2.54! -&1.97 15.24Q1.97 .79B
-&1.97 1.97/2.54#+, ^&*4.72/1.97 *)
1.97/2.54/4.72*-B -&1.97B -&1.97(+1.97/4.72%1.97+
^1.97#1.97 .79/1.97*)2.76 4.72/1.97! .79B
I guess we’ll play a game today. Why not? I bring you four recipes today. Three are from wilderness books and one is from someone I knew. I won’t tell which recipe fits into the latter category and which are from the books, but I’ll give the answer at the end so you can all guess and see if you were right.
The two books are Wilderness Cooking by Bernt Berglund and Clare E. Bolsby and Outdoorsman’s Handbook by Clyde Ormond. I have added my own notes, commentary, et cetera partly for copyright purposes but also for taste and other cooking purposes.
*2 pounds ground elk meat
*4 slices dried bread
*1/2 teaspoon salt
*2 minced onions
*1/4 teaspoon pepper
*1 cup milk
-place elk meat in large mixing bowl
-crumble bread over meat
-add onions, milk eggs, salt, pepper
-grease pan and add meat in burger shapes
-fry until cooked thoroughly
You can substitute other kinds of meat for elk in the event that you don’t have any (which you probably don’t). If you’re going to cook with beef, consider adding just a bit of meat salt. Not too much because if it’s too strong it’ll cover up the other ingredients.
Skunk Sandwich Spread
*1 cup cooked, ground skunk meat
*2-6 tablespoons onion bits (chopped, ground, whatever your preference)
*1/2 cup salad dressing
*1/4 cup finely chopped cattail shoots
*1/4 cup finely chopped sweet pickle
You could probably leave out the cattail shoots and still have the recipe turn out approximately the same. The same could probably be said for the dressing. On that subject, be familiar with the kind of dressing you use in advance because the different flavors and quantities of sauces and dressings can greatly affect recipes. If you are now thoroughly freaked out by the idea of adding salad dressing, either skip it or just add a dab of it.
*salted water (1 tablespoon per gallon)
-remove head and cut up from throat to detach tongue from base
-begin boiling the salted water as you wash the tongue
-boil tongue for 2-3 hours
-after boiling, remove tongue from water and peel off skin with knife
-slice tongue thinly for sandwiches or chop for tacos (I recommend the latter as cow tongue tacos, when prepared correctly, are super good)
you are now a cannibal
Only joking about the cannibal thing. I was serious about the cow tongue tacos, though. Unfortunately I don’t have the recipe. On a different subject, now that I think of it, you could grind the tongue meat and add it to pasta sauce. The flavor would probably get covered up, but you could try it anyway. Or you could chop it and add it to a salad. It’s full of possibilities.
*2-3 cans whole tomatoes
-“cook stew meat in water [with] salt, pepper [and] onion until meat is nearly done”
-“then add potatoes, carrots, celery, rudabeggers [SIC], 2 or 3 cans whole tomatoes with juice”
For a vegetarian stew, leave out meat, salt, and pepper (well maybe you could still have a bit of salt, but you don’t need the pepper if you don’t have the meat in this case). One may also leave out rutabagas. That has nothing to do with making the stew vegetarian – it’s really more of a taste issue. Actually, you know what else you could do with this recipe? Throw in that tongue meat mentioned earlier and use 2-3 cans of chicken noodle soup instead of the 2-3 cans of whole, undrained tomatoes. Then tell your dinner guests the tongue is really chicken and do not reveal the truth until they have started eating. Lol.
So which recipe was from the person? Did you guess tongue?
Well it wasn’t.
I had to get that recipe from one of the books because my friend is traveling at the moment and therefore unable to ask his mother for the recipe for me.
The correct answer was “Stew”. Thank you for playing and have a nice day. 🙂
So I was standing around wondering what to post when I suddenly remembered all those old books I’d packed when I moved. That’s really the only relevant part of the story, so I’m going to stop it there. This is from a Bokmål reader so old that it smells like literature. If you’ve smelled it, you know what I mean.
It looks like this story was by Camilla Collett. I’d like to encourage you to use translators as little as possible so you can learn more. And if you already know Bokmål… you’re going to be bored. Luckily for me, I haven’t accidentally learned it yet…
Det ene speil var kjøpt av en bonde som bodde en hel mil nord for mitt hjem. Jeg tok up til hest, og jeg tror det regnet dyktig den etter middag; men hva gjorde det? For den rette ivrer som drar ut med det sikre håp om å erobre et ekte stykke, gis der ikke regn eller ondt vær.
Jeg nådde stedet og traff mannen stående i sin sval. <<Er det kanskje Lars Mostu selv?>> — <<Jo, det er nok det.>> — <<Er det ikke du som kjøpte det ene av de store speil som ble solgt på M. auksjon?>> — <<Jo, det var nok det au,>> so han. — <<Å, måtte jeg ikke få se det?>> — <<Nei, det var nok itte beleilig det.>> — <<Ikke beleilig?…>> — <<Å nei da; det gikk nok riktig gæli medden speilen!>> — <<Å? … Hvordan det? Den er da vel ikke slått i tu?>> — <<Nei just itte det, men da je skulle kjør’n him om kvelden, så kom je til å kjør’n sund…>> — <<Kjøre den sund! Så er den jo i tu! Men hvordan kunne det gå til?>> — <<Å,>> so mannen, <<je hadde vel litt i hue, som så lett kan hende på slikt et sted, men slettes itte så je kan si at je itte sanset meg riktig; det skal ingen kunne si meg på! Og så la je meg oppe på lasset for å stø’n litt; det tålte han itte, må tru!>>
Jeg overlater til enhver å tenke seg alle de utrop jeg utstøtte i mitt indre. Jeg ville ikke se den, men jeg spurte om han kunne si meg hvor det andre speilet var.
<<Jo, den ble riktig solgt til Østvoll, nå huser je det også. Han Hans Østvoll kjøpt’n. Je hadde vel litt i hue, som så lett kan hende, men slettes itte så je kan si at je itte sanset meg…>> Det var en dryppende, sterktduftende,men lys sommeraften, så jeg besluttet å holde ut of ta innom Østvoll, om det enn ble sent. Jeg nådde gården. <<Er det ikke den mannen som har kjøpt…>> osv. — <<Nei, det var itte je det,>> ble det svart. <<Men mannen på Mostu forsikret meg…>> — <<Å, var det likt seg det da! Je kjøper nok itte slike speiler je! Det må ha vært han gamle Hans der oppe i Nordgården da; men je har itte fornummet noen sånn speile oppe hos ham heller.>> Gamle Hans traff jeg ikke, men hans kone forsikret at det berodde på en ren feiltagelse av Mostumannen. Speilet ble ikke solgt til Østvoll, men til Vestvoll. Der bodde hennes søster; hun hadde nylig sett speilet henge der.
Østvoll og Vestvoll! Altså til Vestvoll. Jeg repeterte for meg underveis, liksom en formular som skal åpne dørene til den forheksede skatt: Konen på Østvoll har sett speilet henge på Vestvoll, konen på Østvoll har sett speilet hos sin søster på Vestvoll. Konen på Østvoll har sett det henge på veggen hos sin søster på Vestvoll osv.
Ankom til Vestvoll. Ved hjelp av en liten hvithåret fyr, som stod i svalen og spiste på et smørbrød, hvis tykkelse, syntes det meg, langt overskred grensene for det en rimelig kan fordre av et par kjever, fikk jeg konen ut, som satt i sin vev innenfor. <<Er det ikke mor Vestvoll, som er søster til konen på Østvoll?>> — <<Jo, det er nok søster mi det.>> — <<Så er det visst du som kjøpte…>> osv. — <<Jo, det var nok det; frøkna får være så god å gå inn,>> sa den vennlige, pene kone, idet hun hjalp meg ned.
I stuen så jeg neg forgjeves om etter det jeg søkte. <<Jo, det var ganske riktig det; det var en gild speile, men je solgte den igjen tel mannen her borte på Bjørge; han har bygd så, må tru, og så syntes han at han ville ha en speile. — Men det er itte langt til Bjørge, det er bare jordet bortover,>> la konen til, da hun så min skuffelse, som grenset til forferdelse. <<Frøkna rir snart bortom der. Han har bygd han, må tru, og så syntes han at han skulle ha seg en speile.>>
Til den betegnede gård var det nettopp så langt ned igjennom dalen og bort jordene at jeg hadde tid til å utfinne alle muligheter for at speilet ikke var der og, gjøre dem til umuligheter igjen. Han kunne ikke ha solgt det igjen; ti han hadde bygd, og så syntes han at han ville ha… osv. Konen har nylig sett det henge på veggen i hans nystue. Det skulle dog være besynderlig om det på den korte tid var slått i tu. Ildebrann kan ikke ha ødelagt det, for huset, det nye huset, står der jo. Dessuten, intet av hva jeg kan tenke meg, kan hende, altså er det ingen tenkelig grunn til at jeg nå ikke skal se speilet henge på veggen like for mine levende øyne. — <<Er mannen hjemme?>> spurte jeg en jentunge som stod med en annen, nesten likså stor, på armen.
<<Nei, han er itte.>> — <<Vil do være så snill å vise meg den store speilen han kjøpte av mor Vestvoll,>> sa jeg, dristig springende over innledningen. <<Nei, speilen kan Dere itte få se.>> — <<Hvorfor ikke det?>> — <<Han er itte hime.>> — <<Speilen?>> — <<Nei, han er hos snekkeren; men i mårå kan Dere nok få se’n, for da blir’n ferdig.>> — <<Ferdig!>> skrek jeg, <<hva har snekkeren gjort med den? Var den i tu… var den sund?>> — <<Nei, han var itte sund. Snekkeren har bare skøri’n opp til småspeiler.>>—
Were I to give an award to a post for the most interesting spell-checking I’ve done so far, this one would be the undisputed winner.
I’ve never really been satisfied with any depictions of this in modern media. On the other hand, what do I like from modern media (excepting some mostly older Black Metal)? My point is: here’s part of Homer’s Odyssey. The chunk I have partially summarized below is from Book X. The copy of the book I have was translated by Robert Fitzgerald and its ISBN number is 0-679-72813-9. Some of the names in the book were written kind of phonetically and I have pretty much kept that below.
They had landed on a new island and were trying to decide whether to explore it. The men remembered the tragedies they’d already faced and their brothers-in-arms they’d already lost and began to weep. Odysseus saw they were losing time for action and counted off his Akhaians in two platoons, commanded by himself and his “godlike Eurýlokhos”. They shook lots in a soldier’s dogskin cap to decide which platoon was to go exploring inland. Thusly it happened that Odysseus and his platoon were fortunate enough to stay behind while Eurýlokhos and his twenty-two companions went further on. All wept – including those who stayed behind. The men who left found the hall of Kirkê (a smooth stone house) in an open glade. Wolves and mountain lions lay around the house, but rather than attacking they switched their tails like hounds and fawned on the men – also like hounds – as the men looked upon them in fear. When the men got to the entryway of the house, they stood and listened. They could hear the goddess Kirkê as she sang and weaved on her loom. The men said nothing for a while until Politês (“most faithful and likable of my officers”) calmed the other men, saying it was just a young weaver and that there was no need for stealth. Eurýlokhos was afraid it might be a trap, but the others cried out and were met by the occupant, who seated them on thrones and lounging chairs. She gave them food and wine, then “flew after them with her long stick and shut them in a pigsty”, at which point they had physically become pigs even though their minds remained unchanged. Eurýlokhos (remember: he stayed outside and so remained human) ran down to the ship to warn Odysseus and the platoon that had stayed behind. Odysseus, upon hearing his tale (no pun intended) requested that Eurýlokhos take him back the way he had come. The latter refused, so Odysseus went alone. Hermes met him part way through his trip inland in the form of a man so young that he barely had a mustache (it is typical for him to be described as appearing young, so this isn’t unusual at all), and warned Odysseus about what lay ahead and how to defeat Kirkê and her power. Hermes gave Odysseus a magic plant from the ground to keep his mind and senses clear of the magic (the plant is described as being a “fatigue and pain for mortals to uproot”, having a “black root and milky flower”, and being called “a molü in the language of the gods”, in case anyone is interested). Each went their separate ways; the god to his home Olympos and the godlike man straight into danger (which almost might as well have been his second home for how often he was in it). Odysseus arrived in Kirkê’s hall and was welcomed inside. Kirkê was quite surprised when her magic failed to work and invited Odysseus to bed while his sword was still against her throat (he had swung at her in retaliation to her swinging a stick at him in an attempt to turn him into a pig). He was not taken in by this pathetic display. She had turned his men into pigs under that very roof, after all, and he kept that in mind. Odysseus made her swear that she would not work any enchantment to his harm. “She swore at once, outright, as I demanded, / and after she had sworn, and bound herself, / I entered Kirkê’s flawless bed of love”. (The phrase “bound herself” refers to the oath she made.) Kirkê’s four nymph maids busied themselves in her hall, making the place look nice and bringing in savory loaves to tempt Odysseus, but he, having a heart, would neither eat nor drink as he thought of his lost men. Kirkê asked him why he still wouldn’t eat or drink even after the oath she had made. Odysseus explained that he wanted to see his men, so Kirkê opened up the sty and gave each one in turn a stroke from her staff, which turned them human again. They appeared younger, more handsome, and taller than before. They each took the hands of Odysseus and sobbed. Even Kirkê was moved by this.