By suffering well, our fortune we subdue;
Fly when she frowns, and when she calls pursue.
Your friend Acestes is of Trojan kind;
To him disclose the secrets of your mind:
Trust in his hands your old and useless train,
Too numerous for the ships which yet remain :
The feeble, old, indulgent of their ease,
The dames who dread the dangers of the seas,
With all their dastard crew, who dare not stand
The shock of battle with your foes by land;
Here you may build a common town for all;
And, from Acestes' name, Acesta call."

The reasons, with his friend's experience join'd,
Encourag'd much, but more disturb'd his mind.
'Twas dead of night; when to his slumbering eyes,
His father's shade descended from the skies;
And thus he spoke: "O more than vital breath,
Lov'd while I liv'd, and dear ev'n after death;
O son! in various toils and troubles tost,
The king of Heaven employs my careful ghost
On his commands; the god who sav'd from fire
Your flaming fleet, and heard your just desire:
The wholesome counsel of your friend receive;
And here the coward train, and women, leave:
The chosen youth, and those who nobly dare
Transport, to tempt the dangers of the war.
The stern Italians with their courage try;
Rough are their manners, and their minds are high.
But first to Pluto's palace you should go,
And seek my shade among the blest below.
For not with impious ghosts my soul remains,
Nor suffers, with the damn'd, p. rpetual pains,
But breathes the living air of soft Elysian plains.
The chaste Sibylla shall your steps convey;
And blood of offer'd victims free the way;
There shall you know what realms the gods assign;
And learn the fates and fortunes of your line.
But now, farewell: I vanish with the night;
And feel the blast of Heaven's approaching light."
He said, and mix'd with shades, and took his airy
flight.

"Whither so fast?" the filial duty cry'd,
"And why, ah why! the wish'd embrace deny'd!"
He said, and rose: as holy zeal inspires,
He rakes hot embers, and renews the fires.
His country gods and Vesta then adores
With cakes and incense; and their aid implores.
Next for his friends and royal host he sent,
Reveal'd his vision and the gods' intent,
With his own purpose. All, without delay,.
The will of Jove and his desires obey.
They list with women each degenerate name,
Who dares not hazard life, for future fame.
These they cashier: the brave remaining few,
Oars, banks, and cables, half consum'd, renew.
The prince designs a city with the plough;
The lots their several tenements allow.
This part is nam'd from Ilium, that from Troy;
And the new king ascends the throne with joy.
A chosen senate from the people draws ;
Appoints the judges, and ordains the laws.
Then on the top of Fryx, they begin
A rising temple to the Paphian queen :
Anchises, last, is honour'd as a god;
A priest is added, annual gifts bestow'd;
And groves are planted round his blest abode.
Nine days they pass in feasts, their temples crown'd;
And fumes of incense in the fanes abound.
Then, from the south arose a gentle breeze,
That curl'd the smoothness of the glassy seas:

The rising winds a ruffling gale afford,
And call the merry mariners on board.

Now loud laments along the shores resound,
Of parting friends, in close embraces bound.
The trembling women, the degenerate train,
Who shunn'd the frightful dangers of the main,
Ev'n those desire to sail, and take their share
Of the rough passage, and the promis'd war;
Whom good Æneas cheers; and recommends
To their new master's care his fearful friends.
On Eryx' altars three fat calves he lays;
A lamb new fallen to the stormy seas;
Then slips his hausers, and his anchors weighs,
High on the deck the god-like hero stands;
With olive crown'd; a charger in his hands;
Then cast the reeking entrails in the brine,
And pour'd the sacrifice of purple wine.
Fresh gales arise, with equal strokes they vie,
And brush the buxom seas, and o'er the billows fly.
Meantime the mother goddess, full of fears,
To Neptune thus address'd, with tender tears:
"The pride of Jove's imperious queen, the rage,
The malice, which no sufferings can assuage,
Compel me to these prayers: since neither fate,
Nor time, nor pity, can remove her hate.
Ev'n Jove is thwarted by his haughty wife;
Still vanquish'd, yet she still renews the strife.
As if 'twere little to consume the town
Which aw'd the world, and wore th' imperial crown;
She prosecutes the ghost of Troy with pains;
And gnaws, ev'n to the bones, the last remains.
Let her the causes of her hatred tell;
But you can witness its effects too well.
You saw the storms she rais'd on Lybian floods,
That mix'd the mountain billows with the clouds;
When, bribing Folus, she shook the main,
And mov'd rebellion in your watery reign.
With fury she possess'd the Dardan dames
To burn their fleet with execrable flames:
And forc'd Æneas, when his ships were lost,
To leave his followers on a foreign coast:
For what remains, your godhead I implore;
And trust my son to your protecting power.
If neither Jove's nor fate's decree withstand,
Secure his passage to the Latian land."

Then thus the mighty ruler of the main : "What may not Venus hope, from Neptune's reign? My kingdom claims your birth: my late defence Of your endanger'd fleet may claim your confi

dence.

Nor less by land than sea my deeds declare
How much your lov'd Æneas is my care.
Thee, Xanthus, and thee, Simois, I attest:
Your Trojan troops when proud Achilles press'd,
And drove before him headlong on the plain,
And dash'd against their walls the trembling train,
When floods were fill'd with bodies of the slain :
When crimson Xanthus, doubtful of his way,
Stood up on ridges to behold the sea ;
New heaps came tumbling in, and chok'd his way :
When your Æneas fought, but fought with odds,
Of force unequal, and unequal gods;

I spread a cloud before the victor's sight,
Sustain'd the vanquish'd, and secur'd his flight.
Ev'n then secur'd him, when I sought with joy
The vow'd destruction of ungrateful Troy.
My will's the same: fair goddess, fear no more,
Your fleet shall safely gain the Latian shore:
Their lives are given; one destin'd head alone
Shall perish, and for multitudes atone.?

Thus having arm'd with hopes her anxious mind,
His fin by team Saturnian Neptune join'd.
Then adds a foamy bridle to their jaws,
And to the loosen'd reins permits the laws.
High on the waves his azure car he guides;
Its axles thunder, and the sea subsides;
And the smooth ocean rolls her silent tides.
The tempests fly before their father's face;
Trains of inferior gods his triumph grace;
And monster whales before their master play,
And choirs of Tritons crowd the watery way.
The martial powers in equal troops divide
To right and left: the gods his better side
Enclose, and on the worse the nymphs and nereids
Now smiling hope, with sweet vicissitude, [ride.
Within the hero's mind, his joys renew'd.
He calls to raise the masts, the sheets display;
The cheerful crew with diligence obey;
They scud before the wind, and sail in open sea.
A-head of all the master pilot steers,
And, as he leads, the following navy veers.
The steeds of night had travell'd half the sky,
The drowsy rowers on their benches lie ;
When the soft god of sleep, with easy flight,
Descends, and draws behind a trail of light.
Thou, Palinurus, art his destin'd prey;
To thee alone he takes his fatal way.
Dire dreams to thee, and iron sleep, he bears;
And, lighting on thy prow, the form of Phorbas
Then thus the traitor god began his tale: [wears.
"The winds, my friend, inspire a pleasing gale;
The ships, without thy care, securely sail.
Now steal an hour of sweet repose; and I
Will take the rudder, and thy room supply."
To whom the yawning pilot, half asleep :
"Me dost thou bid to trust the treacherous deep!
The harlot smiles of her dissembling face,
And to her faith commit the Trojan race?
Shall I believe the syren south again,
And, oft betray'd, not know the monster main?"
He said, his fasten'd hands the rudder keep,
And, fix'd on Heaven, his eyes repel invading sleep.
The god was wroth, and at his temples threw
A branch in Lethe dipp'd, and drunk with Stygian
The pilot, vanquish'd by the power divine, [dew:
Soon clos'd his swimming eyes, and lay supine.
Scarce were his limbs extended at their length,
The god, insulting with superior strength,
Fell heavy on him, płung'd him in the sea,
And, with the stern, the rudder tore away.
Headlong he fell, and, struggling in the main,
Cry'd out for helping hands, but cry'd in vain :
The victor demon mounts obscure in air;
While the ship sails without the pilot's care.
On Neptune's faith the floating fleet relies:
But what the man forsook, the god supplies;
And o'er the dangerous deep secure the navy flies:
Glides by the syren's cliffs, a shelfy coast,
Long infamous for ships and sailors lost;
And white with bones: th' impetuous ocean roars;
And rocks rebellow from resounding shores.
The watchful hero felt the knocks; and found
The tossing vessel sail'd on shoaly ground.
Sure of his pilot's loss, he takes himself
The helm, and steers aloof, and shuns the shelf.
Inly he griev'd, and, groaning from the breast,
Deplor'd his death; and thus his pain express'd :
"For faith repos'd on seas, and on the flattering sky,
Thy naked corpse is doom'd on shores unknown
to lie."

He said, and wept: then spread his sails before The winds, and reach'd at length the Cuman shore: Their anchors dropt, his crew the vessels moor. They turn their heads to sea, their steras to land; And greet, with greedy joy, th' Italian strand. Some strike from clashing flints their fiery seed; Some gather sticks the kindled flames to feed; Or search for hollow trees, and fell the woods, Or trace through vallies the discover'd floods. Thus, while their several charges they fulfil, The pious prince ascends the sacred bill Where Phoebus is ador'd, and seeks the sha le Which hides from sight his venerable maid. Deep in a cave the Sibyl makes abode; Thence full of fate returns, and of the god. Thro' Trivia's grove they walk; and now behold, And enter now the temple roof'd with gold. When Dædalus, to fly the Cretan shore, His heavy limbs on jointed pinions bore, (The first who sail'd in air) 'tis sung by fame, To the Cumaan coast at length he came; And here alighting, built this costly frame. Inscrib'd to Phoebus, here he hung on high The steerage of his wings, that cuts the sky; Then o'er the lofty gate his art emboss'd Androgeos' death, and offerings to his ghost: Seven youths from Athens yearly sent, to meet The fate appointed by revengeful Crete. And next to those the dreadful urn was plac'd, In which the destin'd names by lots were cast: The mournful parents stand around in tears; And rising Crete against their shore appears. There too, in living sculpture, might be seen The mad affection of the Cretan queen : Then how she cheats her bellowing lover's eye: The rushing leap, the doubtful progeny, The lower part a beast, a man above, The monument of their polluted love. Nor far from thence he grav'd the wondrous maze; A thousand doors, a thousand winding ways; Here dwells the monster, hid from human view, Not to be found but by the faithful clue: Till the kind artist, mov'd with pious grief, Lent to the loving maid this last relief; And all those erring paths describ'd so well, That Theseus conquer'd, and the monster fell. Here hapless Icarus had found his part; Had not the father's grief restrain'd his art. He twice essay'd to ca t his son in gold; Twice from his hands he dropp'd the forming

mould.

66

All this with wondering eyes Æneas view'd:
Each varying object his delight renew'd.
Eager to read the rest, Achates came,
And by his side the mad diyining dame;
The priestess of the god, Deiphobe her name.
Time suffers not," she said, “to feed your eyes
With empty pleasures: haste the sacrifice.
Seven bullocks yet unyok'd, for Phoebus choose,
And for Diana seven unspotted ewes.”
This said, the servants urge the sacred rites;
While to the temple she the prince invites.
A spacious cave, within its farmost part,
Was hew'd and fashion'd by laborious art
Through the hill's hollow sides: before the place,
A hundred doors, a hundred entries grace:
As many voices issue; and the sound
Of Sibyls' words as many times rebound.
Now to the mouth they come: aloud she cries,
"This is the time; inquire your destinies.
He comes, behold the god!" Thus while she said
(And shivering at the sacred entry staid),
Her colour chang'd, her face was not the same,
And hollow groans from her deep spirit came.
Her hair stood up; convulsive rage possess'd
Her trembling limbs, and heav'd her labouring
breast.

Greater than human-kind she seem'd to look:
And, with an accent more than mortal, spoke.
Her staring eyes with sparkling fury roll;
When all the god came rushing on her soul.
Swiftly she turn'd, and foaming as she spoke.
"Why this delay?" she cried; "the powers in-
Thy prayers alone can open this abode, [voke:
Else vaiù are my demands, and dumb the god."
She said no more: the trembling Trojans hear;
O'erspread with a damp sweat, and holy fear.
The prince himself, with awful dread possess'd,
His vows to great Apollo thus address'd :

Indulgent god, propitious power to Troy,
Swift to relieve, unwilling to destroy ;
Directed by whose hand, the Dardan dart
Pierc'd the proud Grecian's only mortal part:
Thus far, by fate's decrees, and thy commands,
Through ambient seas, and through devouring
sands,

Our exil'd crew has sought th' Ausonian ground;
And now, at length, the flying coast is found;
Thus far the fate of Troy, from place to place,
With fury has pursued her wandering race:
Here cease, ye powers, and let your vengeance
end;

Troy is no more, and can no more offend.
And thou, O sacred maid! inspir'd to see
Th' event of things in dark futurity,
Give me, what Heaven has promis'd to my fate,
To conquer and command the Latian state:
To fix my wandering gods, and find a place

For the long xiles of the Trojan race.
Then shall my grateful hands a temple rear

To the twin gods, with vows and solemn prayer;
And annual rites, and festivals, and games,
Shall be perform'd to their auspicious names;
Nor shalt thou want thy honours in my land,
For there thy faithful oracles shall stand,
Preserv'd in shrines: and every sacred lay,
Which, by thy mouth, Apollo shall convey:
All shall be treasur'd, by a chosen train
Of holy priests, and ever shall remain.
But, oh! commit not thy prophetic mind
To fitting leaves, the sport of every wind,

Lest they dispense in air our empty fate:
Write not, but, what the powers ordain, relate."
Struggling in vain, impatient of her load,
And labouring underneath the ponderous god,
The more she strove to shake him from her breast,
With more, and far superior force, he press'd:
Commands his entrance, and, without control,
Usurps her organs, and inspires her soul.
Now, with a furious blast, the hundred doors
Ope of themselves; a rushing whirlwind roars
Within the cave; and Sibyl's voice restores :
Escap'd the dangers of the watery reigu,
Yet more and greater ills, by land remain;
The coast so long desir'd (nor doubt th' event)
Thy troops shall reach, but having reach'd, re-
pent.

Wars, horrid wars, I view; a field of blood;
And Tyber rolling with a purple flood.
Simois nor Xanthus shall be wanting there;
A new Achilles shall in arms appear:
And he, too, goddess-born: fierce Juno's hate,
Added to hostile force, shall urge thy fate.
To what strange nations shalt not thou resort!
Driven to solicit aid at every court!

The cause the same which Ilium once oppress'd,
A foreigu mistress and a foreign guest:

But thou, secure of soul, unbent with woes,
The more thy fortune frowns, the more oppose:
The dawnings of thy safety shall be shown,
From whence thou least shait hope, a Grecian
town."

Thus, from the dark recess, the Sibyl spoke,
And the resisting air the thunder broke;
The cave rebellow'd, and the temple shook.
Th' ambiguous god, who rul'd her labouring breast,
In these mysterious words his mind exprest:
"Some truths reveal'd, in terms involv'd the rest."
At length her fury fell, her foaming ceas'd,
And, ebbing in her soul, the god decreas'd.
Then thus the chief: "No terrour to my view,
No frightful face of danger can be new:
Inur'd to suffer, and resolv'd to dare,

The fates, without my power, shall be without my

care.

This let me crate, since near your grove the road
To Hell lies open, and the dark abode
Which Acheron surrounds, th' innavigable flood:
Conduct me through the regions void of light,
And lead me longing to my father's sight:
For him, a thousand dangers I have sought;
And, rushing where the thickest Grecians fought,
Safe on my back the sacred burden brought.
He, for my sake, the raging ocean try'd
And wrath of Heaven, my still auspicious guide,
Aud bore beyond the strength decrepit age sup-

ply'd.

Why name I Theseus, or his greater friend,
Who trod the downward path, and upward could
ascend!

Not less than theirs, from Jove my lineage came :
My mother greater, my descent the same."
So pray'd the Trojan prince; and, while he pray'd,
His hand upon the holy altar laid.
Then thus reply'd the prophetess divine:
"O goddess-born! of great Anchises' line,
The gates of Hell are open night and day:
Smooth the descent, and easy is the way:
But to return, and view the cheerful skies,
In this the task and mighty labour lies.
To few great Jupiter imparts this grace,
And those of shining worth, and heavenly race.
Betwixt those regions, and our upper light,
Deep forests and impenetrable night

Possess the middle space. Th' infernal bounds
Cocytus, with his sable waves, surrounds:
But, if so dire a love your soul invades,
As twice below to view the trembling shades;
If you so bard a toil will undertake,
As twice to pass th' innavigable lake,
Receive my counsel. In the neighbouring grove
There stands a tree: the queen of Stygian Jove
Claims it her own; thick woods and gloomy night
Conceal the happy plant from human sight.
One bough it bears; but, wondrous to behold,
The ductile rind, and leaves, of radiant gold:
This from the vulgar branches must be torn,
And to fair Proserpine the present borne,
Ere leave be given to tempt the nether skies:
The first thus rent, a second will arise,
And the same metal the same room supplies.
Look round the wood, with lifted eyes to see
The lurking gold upon the fatal tree:
Then rend it off, as holy rites command;
The willing metal will obey thy hand,
Following with ease, if, favour'd by thy fate,
Thou art foredoom'd to view the Stygian state:
If not, no labour can the tree constrain,

And strength of stubborn arms, and steel are vain.
Besides, you know not, while you here attend,
Th' unworthy fate of your unhappy friend:
Breathless he lies, and his unbury'd ghost,
Depriv'd of funeral rites, pollutes your host.
Pay first his pious dues: and, for the dead,
Two sable sheep around his hearse be led:
Then, living turfs upon his body lay;
This done, securely take the destin'd way,
To find the regions destitute of day."
She said: and held her peace. Eneas went
Sad from the cave, and full of discontent;
Unknowing whom the sacred Sibyl meant.
Achates, the companion of his breast,
Goes grieving by his side with equal cares oppress'd.
Walking they talk'd, and fruitlessly divin'd
What friend the priestess, by those words, design'd:
But soon they found an object to deplore;
Misenus lay extended on the shore ;
Son of the god of winds; none so renown'd,
The warrior trumpet in the field to sound:
With breathing brass to kindle fierce alarms,
And rouse to dare their fate in honourable arms.
He serv'd great Hector; and was ever near,
Not with his trumpet only, but his spear,
But, by Pelides' arm when Hector fell,
He chose Aneas, and he chose as well.

Swoin with applause, and aiming still at more,
He now provokes the sea-gods from the shore;

With envy Triton heard the martial sound,
And the bold champion, for his challenge, drown'd.
Then cast his mangled carcase on the strand;
The gazing crowd around the body stand.
All weep, but most Æneas mourns his fate,
And hastens to perform the funeral state.
In altar-wise a stately pile they rear ;
The basis broad below, and top advanc'd in air.
An ancient wood, fit for the work design'd
(The shady covert of the savage kind)
The Trojans found: the sounding ax is ply'd :
Firs, pines, and pitch-trees, and the towering pride
Of forest ashes, feel the fatal stroke,

And piercing wedges cleave the stubborn oak.
Huge trunks of trees, fell'd from the steepy crown
Of the bare mountains, roll with ruin down.
Arm'd like the rest the Trojan prince appears,
And, by his pious labour, urges theirs.
Thus while he wrought, revolving in his mind
The ways to compass what his wish design'd,
He cast his eyes upon the gloomy grove,

And then, with vows, implor'd the queen of love:
"O may thy power, propitious still to me,
Conduct my steps to find the fatal tree,
In this deep forest; since the Sibyl's breath
Foretold, alas! too true, Misenus' death."
Scarce had he said, when, full before his sight,
Two doves, descending from their airy flight,
Secure upon the grassy plain alight.

He knew his mother's birds; and thus he pray'd:
"Be you my guides, with your auspicious aid;
And lead my footsteps, till the branch be found,
Whose glittering shadow gilds the sacred ground:
And thou, great parent! with celestial care,
In this distress, be present to my prayer."
Thus having said, he stopp'd: with watchful sight
Observing still the motions of their flight,
What course they took, what happy signs they
shew:

They fed, and, fluttering, by de rees withdrew
Still farther from the place, but still in view:
Hopping, and flying, thus they led him on
To the slow lake: whose baleful stench to shun,
They wing'd their flight aloft; then stooping low,
Perch'd on the double tree, that bears the golden

bough.

Through the green leaves the glittering shadows
As on the sacred oak, the wintery misletoe: [glow;
Where the proud mother views her precious brood;
And happier branches, which she never sow'd.
Such was the glittering, such the ruddy rind,
And dancing leaves, that wanton'd in the wind.
He seiz'd the shining bough with griping hold
And rent away, with ease, the lingering gold:
Then to the Sibyl's palace bore the prize.
Meantime, the Trojan troops, with weeping eyes,
To dead Misenus pay his obsequies.
First from the ground a lofty pile they rear,
Of pitch-trees, oaks, and pines, and unctuous fir:
The fabric's front, with cypress twigs they strew,
And stick the sides with boughs of baleful yew,
The topmost part, his glittering arms adorn;
Warm waters, then, in brazen cauldrons borne,
Are pour'd to wash his body, joint by joint :
And fragrant oils the stiffen'd limbs anoint.
With groans and cries Misenus they deplore:
Then on a bier, with purple cover'd o'er,
The breathless body, thus bewail'd, they lay,
And fire the pile, their faces turn'd away
(Such reverend rites their fathers us'd to pay).

Pure oil and incense on the fire they throw,
And fat of victims, which his friends bestow.
These gifts, the greedy flames to dust devour;
Then, on the living coals, red wine they pour:
And last, the relics by themselves dispose,
Which in a brazen urn the priests enclose.
Old Chorineus compass'd thrice the crew,
And dipp'd an olive branch in holy dew;
Which thrice he sprinkled round, and thrice aloud
Invok'd the dead, and then dismiss'd the crowd.
But good Æneas order'd on the shore
A stately tomb; whose top a trumpet bore;
A soldier's falchion, and a seaman's oar.
Thus was his friend interr'd: and deathless fame
Still to the lofty cape consigns his name.
These rites perform'd, the prince, without delay,
Hastes to the nether world his destin'd way.
Deep was the cape; and downward as it went
From the wide mouth, a rocky rough descent;
And here th' access a gloomy grove descends;
And here th' unnavigable lake extends.
O'er whose unhappy waters, void of light,
No bird presumes to steer his airy flight;
Such deadly stenches from the depth arise,
And steaming sulphur, that infects the skies.
From hence the Grecian bards their legends make,
And give the name Avernus to the lake.
Four sable bullocks, in the yoke untaught,
For sacrifice the pious hero brought;
The priestess pours the wine betwixt their horns;
Then cuts the curling hair; that first oblation
Invoking Hecate hither to repair

[burus,

(A powerful name in Hell, and upper air).
The sacred priests with ready knives bereave
The beasts of life, and in full bowls receive
The streaming blood: a lamb to Hell and Night
(The sable wool without a streak of white)
Encas offers: and, by fate's decree,
A barren heifer, Proserpine, to thee.
With holocausts he Pluto's altar fills:
Seven brawny bulls with his own hand he kills:
Then, on the broiling entrails, oil he pours ;
Which, ointed thus, the raging flame devours:
Late, the nocturnal sacrifice begun;
Nor ended, till the next returning Sun.
Then earth began to bellow, trees to dance,
And howling dogs in glimmering light advance,
Fre Hecate came: "Far hence be souls profane,"
The Sibyl cry'd," and from the grove abstain.
Now, Trojan, take the way thy fates afford,
Assume thy courage, and unsheath thy sword."
She said, and pass'd along the gloomy space,
The prince pursu'd her steps with equal pace.

Ye realms, yet unreveal'd to human sight,
Ye gods, who rule the regions of the night,
Ye gliding ghosts, permit me to relate
The mystic wonders of your silent state.

that

[led

Obscure they went through dreary shades, Along the waste dominions of the dead: Thus wander travellers in woods by night, By the Moon's doubtful and malignant light: When Jove in dusky clouds involves the skies, And the faint crescent shoots by fits before their Just in the gate, and in the jaws of Hell, [eyes. Revengeful Cares and sullen Sorrows dwell; And pale Diseases, and repining Age; Wan Fear, and Famine's unresisted rage: Here Toils, and Death, and Death's half-brother, Sleep,

Forms terrible to view, their centry keep:

With anxious Pleasures of a guilty mind,
Deep Frauds before, and open Force behind:
The Furies' iron beds, and Strife that shakes
Her hissing tresses, and unfolds her snakes.
Full in the midst of this infernal road,
An elm displays her dusky arms abroad:
The god of Sleep there hides his heavy head,
And empty dreams on every leaf are spread.
Of various forms unnumber'd spectres more;
Centaurs, and double shapes, besiege the door!
Before the passage horrid Hydra stands,
And Briareus with all his hundred hands:
Gorgons, Geryon with his triple frame,
And vain Chimæra vomits empty flame.
The chief unsheath'd his shining steel, prepar'd,
Though seiz'd with sudden fear, to force the guard,
Offering his brandish'd weapon at their face,
Had not the Sibyl stopp'd his eager pace,
And told him what those empty phantoms were:
Forms without bodies, and impassive air.
Hence to deep Acheron they take their way,
Whose troubled eddies, thick with ooze and clay,
Are whirl'd aloft, and in Cocytus lost :

There Charon stands, who rules the dreary coast:
A sordid god; down from his hoary chin

A length of beard descends: uncomb'd, unclean; His eyes, like hollow furnaces on fire;

A girdle, foul with grease, binds his obscene attire.
He spreads his canvass, with his pole he steers;
The freights of flitting ghosts in his thin bottom
bears.

He look'd in years; yet in his years were seen
A youthful vigour, and autumnal green.
An airy crowd came rushing where he stood,
Which fill'd the margin of the fatal flood,
Husbands and wives, boys and unmarry'd maids,
And mighty heroes' more majestic shades,
And youths, intomb'd before their fathers' eyes,
With hollow "groans,and shrieks, and feeble cries:
Thick as the leaves in autumn strow the woods,
Or fowls, by winter forc'd, forsake the floods,
And wing their hasty flights to happier lands:
Such, and so thick, the shivering army stands,
And press for passage with extended hands.

Now these, now those, the surly boatman bore;
The rest he drove to distance from the shore.
The hero, who beheld, with wondering eyes,
The tumult mix'd with shrieks, laments, and cries,
Ask'd of his guide, what the rude concourse

meant?

Why to the shore the thronging people bent ? What forms of law among the ghosts were us'd? Why some were ferry'd o'er, and some refus'd?

"Son of Anchises, offspring of the gods,"
The Sibyl said, “ you see the Stygian floods,
The sacred streams, which Heaven's imperial state
Attest in oaths, and fears to violate.

The ghosts rejected, are th' unhappy crew
Depriv'd of sepulchres, and funeral due.
The boatman Charon; those, the bury'd host,
He ferries over to the farther coast.
Nor dares his transport vessel cross the waves,
With such whose bones are not compos'd in graves.
A hundred years they wander on the shore,
At length, their penance done, are wafted o'er."
The Trojan chief his forward pace repress'd;
Revolving anxious thoughts within his breast.
He saw his friends, who, whelm'd beneath the
[graves.
Their funeral honours claim'd, and ask'd their quiet

waves,