On thrones she seated them, and lounging chairs, while she prepared a meal of cheese and barley and amber honey mixed with Pramnian wine, adding her own vile pinch, to make them lose desire or thought of our dear fatherland.
Scarce had they drunk when she flew after them with her long stick and shut them in a pigsty, bodies, voices, heads, and bristles, all swinish now, though minds were still unnchanged.
So, squealing, in they went. And Circe tossed them acorns, mast, and cornel berries, fodder for hogs who rut and slumber on the earth.
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