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- On thrones she seated them, and lounging on chairs, while she prepared a meal...with Pramnian wine, adding her own vile punch, to make them lose desire or thought of our dear father land.
- Low she sang in her beguiling voice...No one would speak, until Polites--most faithful and likable of my officers, said: 'Dear friends, no need for stealth: here's a young weaver singing a pretty song to set the air...Goddess she is, or lady. Shall we greet her?'
- 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 unchanged.
- Down to the ship Eurylochus came running to cry alarm, foul magic doomed his men! But working with dry lips to speak a word he could not...When we were frantic questioning him, at last we heard the tale: our friends were gone. . . .
- So reassured, they all cried out together, and she came swiftly to the shining doors to call them in. All but Eurylochus---who feared a snare---the innocents went after her.
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