BOOK VI THE ARGUMENT. The Sibyl foretells Aeneas the adventures he should meet with in Italy. She attends him to hell; describing to him the various scenes of that place, and conducting him to his father Anchises, who instructs him in those sublime mysteries, of the soul of the world, and the transmigration; and shows him that glorious race of heroes, which was to descend from him and his posterity. He said, and wept; then spread his sails before The winds, and reachd at length the Cumaean shore: Their anchors droppd, his crew the vessels moor. They turn their heads to sea, their sterns 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 thro valleys the discoverd floods. Thus, while their sevral charges they fulfil, The pious prince ascends the sacred hill Where Phoebus is adord; and seeks the shade 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 Trivias grove they walk; and now behold, And enter now, the temple roofd with gold. When Daedalus, to fly the Cretan shore, His heavy limbs on jointed pinions bore, (The first who saild in air,) tis sung by Fame, To the Cumaean coast at length he came, And here alighting, built this costly frame. Inscribd to Phoebus, here he hung on high The steerage of his wings, that cut the sky: Then oer the lofty gate his art embossd Androgeos death, and offrings to his ghost; Sevn youths from Athens yearly sent, to meet The fate appointed by revengeful Crete. And next to those the dreadful urn was placd, In which the destind 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 lovers eye; The rushing leap, the doubtful progeny, The lower part a beast, a man above, The monument of their polluted love. Not far from thence he gravd 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, movd with pious grief, Lent to the loving maid this last relief, And all those erring paths describd so well That Theseus conquerd and the monster fell. Here hapless Icarus had found his part, Had not the fathers grief restraind his art. He twice assayd to cast his son in gold; Twice from his hands he droppd the forming mould. All this with wondring eyes Aeneas viewd; Each varying object his delight renewd: Eager to read the rest, Achates came, And by his side the mad divining dame, The priestess of the god, Deiphobe her name. Time suffers not, she said, to feed your eyes With empty pleasures; haste the sacrifice. Sevn bullocks, yet unyokd, for Phoebus choose, And for Diana sevn 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 hewd and fashiond by laborious art Thro the hills hollow sides: before the place, A hundred doors a hundred entries grace; As many voices issue, and the sound Of Sybils words as many times rebound. Now to the mouth they come. Aloud she cries: This is the time; enquire your destinies. He comes; behold the god! Thus while she said, (And shivring at the sacred entry stayd,) Her colour changd; her face was not the same, And hollow groans from her deep spirit came. Her hair stood up; convulsive rage possessd Her trembling limbs, and heavd her labring breast. Greater than humankind she seemd 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 turnd, and, foaming as she spoke: Why this delay? she cried; the powrs invoke! Thy prayrs alone can open this abode; Else vain are my demands, and dumb the god. She said no more. The trembling Trojans hear, Oerspread with a damp sweat and holy fear. The prince himself, with awful dread possessd, His vows to great Apollo thus addressd: Indulgent god, propitious powr to Troy, Swift to relieve, unwilling to destroy, Directed by whose hand the Dardan dart Piercd the proud Grecians only mortal part: Thus far, by fates decrees and thy commands, Thro ambient seas and thro devouring sands, Our exild 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 wandring race. Here cease, ye powrs, and let your vengeance end: Troy is no more, and can no more offend. And thou, O sacred maid, inspird to see Th event of things in dark futurity; Give me what Heavn has promisd to my fate, To conquer and command the Latian state; To fix my wandring gods, and find a place For the long exiles of the Trojan race. Then shall my grateful hands a temple rear To the twin gods, with vows and solemn prayr; And annual rites, and festivals, and games, Shall be performd to their auspicious names. Nor shalt thou want thy honours in my land; For there thy faithful oracles shall stand, Preservd in shrines; and evry sacred lay, Which, by thy mouth, Apollo shall convey: All shall be treasurd by a chosen train Of holy priests, and ever shall remain. But O! commit not thy prophetic mind To flitting leaves, the sport of evry wind, Lest they disperse in air our empty fate; Write not, but, what the powrs ordain, relate. Struggling in vain, impatient of her load, And labring underneath the pondrous god, The more she strove to shake him from her breast, With more and far superior force he pressd; 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 Sibyls voice restores: Escapd the dangers of the watry reign, Yet more and greater ills by land remain. The coast, so long desird (nor doubt th event), Thy troops shall reach, but, having reachd, repent. Wars, horrid wars, I view; a field of blood, And Tiber 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 Junos hate, Added to hostile force, shall urge thy fate. To what strange nations shalt not thou resort, Drivn to solicit aid at evry court! The cause the same which Ilium once oppressd; A foreign 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 shalt hope, a Grecian town. Thus, from the dark recess, the Sibyl spoke, And the resisting air the thunder broke; The cave rebellowd, and the temple shook. Th ambiguous god, who ruld her labring breast, In these mysterious words his mind expressd; Some truths reveald, in terms involvd the rest. At length her fury fell, her foaming ceasd, And, ebbing in her soul, the god decreasd. Then thus the chief: No terror to my view, No frightful face of danger can be new. Inurd to suffer, and resolvd to dare, The Fates, without my powr, shall be without my care. This let me crave, since near your grove the road To hell lies open, and the dark abode Which Acheron surrounds, th innavigable flood; Conduct me thro the regions void of light, And lead me longing to my fathers sight. For him, a thousand dangers I have sought, And, rushing where the thickest Grecians fought, Safe on my back the sacred burthen brought. He, for my sake, the raging ocean tried, And wrath of Heavn, my still auspicious guide, And bore beyond the strength decrepid age supplied. Oft, since he breathd his last, in dead of night His reverend image stood before my sight; Enjoind to seek, below, his holy shade; Conducted there by your unerring aid. But you, if pious minds by prayrs are won, Oblige the father, and protect the son. Yours is the powr; nor Proserpine in vain Has made you priestess of her nightly reign. If Orpheus, armd with his enchanting lyre, The ruthless king with pity could inspire, And from the shades below redeem his wife; If Pollux, offring his alternate life, Could free his brother, and can daily go By turns aloft, by turns descend below: 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 prayd the Trojan prince, and, while he prayd, His hand upon the holy altar laid. Then thus replied 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 heavnly 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 hard a toil will undertake, As twice to pass th innavigable lake; Receive my counsel. In the neighbring 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 givn 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 favourd by thy fate, Thou art foredoomd 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 unburied ghost, Deprivd of funral 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 destind way, To find the regions destitute of day. She said, and held her peace. Aeneas 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 oppressd. Walking, they talkd, and fruitlessly divind What friend the priestess by those words designd. But soon they found an object to deplore: Misenus lay extended on the shore; Son of the God of Winds: none so renownd 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 servd great Hector, and was ever near, Not with his trumpet only, but his spear. But by Pelides arms when Hector fell, He chose Aeneas; and he chose as well. Swoln 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, drownd; Then cast his mangled carcass on the strand: The gazing crowd around the body stand. All weep; but most Aeneas mourns his fate, And hastens to perform the funeral state. In altar-wise, a stately pile they rear; The basis broad below, and top advancd in air. An ancient wood, fit for the work designd, (The shady covert of the salvage kind,) The Trojans found: the sounding ax is plied; Firs, pines, and pitch trees, and the towring pride Of forest ashes, feel the fatal stroke, And piercing wedges cleave the stubborn oak. Huge trunks of trees, felld from the steepy crown Of the bare mountains, roll with ruin down. Armd 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 designd, He cast his eyes upon the gloomy grove, And then with vows implord the Queen of Love: O may thy powr, propitious still to me, Conduct my steps to find the fatal tree, In this deep forest; since the Sibyls 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 mothers birds; and thus he prayd: Be you my guides, with your auspicious aid, And lead my footsteps, till the branch be found, Whose glittring shadow gilds the sacred ground. And thou, great parent, with celestial care, In this distress be present to my prayr! Thus having said, he stoppd with watchful sight, Observing still the motions of their flight, What course they took, what happy signs they shew. They fed, and, fluttring, by degrees 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 wingd their flight aloft; then, stooping low, Perchd on the double tree that bears the golden bough. Thro the green leafs the glittring shadows glow; As, on the sacred oak, the wintry mistletoe, Where the proud mother views her precious brood, And happier branches, which she never sowd. Such was the glittring; such the ruddy rind, And dancing leaves, that wantond in the wind. He seizd the shining bough with griping hold, And rent away, with ease, the lingring gold; Then to the Sibyls 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 fabrics front with cypress twigs they strew, And stick the sides with boughs of baleful yew. The topmost part his glittring arms adorn; Warm waters, then, in brazen caldrons borne, Are pourd to wash his body, joint by joint, And fragrant oils the stiffend limbs anoint. With groans and cries Misenus they deplore: Then on a bier, with purple coverd oer, The breathless body, thus bewaild, they lay, And fire the pile, their faces turnd away: Such reverend rites their fathers usd 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 inclose. Old Corynaeus compassd thrice the crew, And dippd an olive branch in holy dew; Which thrice he sprinkled round, and thrice aloud Invokd the dead, and then dismissed the crowd. But good Aeneas orderd on the shore A stately tomb, whose top a trumpet bore, A soldiers falchion, and a seamans oar. Thus was his friend interrd; and deathless fame Still to the lofty cape consigns his name. These rites performd, the prince, without delay, Hastes to the nether world his destind way. Deep was the cave; and, downward as it went From the wide mouth, a rocky rough descent; And here th access a gloomy grove defends, And there th unnavigable lake extends, Oer whose unhappy waters, void of light, No bird presumes to steer his airy flight; Such deadly stenches from the depths 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 burns, Invoking Hecate hither to repair: A powrful 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) Aeneas offers; and, by fates decree, A barren heifer, Proserpine, to thee, With holocausts he Plutos altar fills; Sevn 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 glimmring light advance, Ere Hecate came. Far hence be souls profane! The Sibyl cried, and from the grove abstain! Now, Trojan, take the way thy fates afford; Assume thy courage, and unsheathe thy sword. She said, and passd along the gloomy space; The prince pursued her steps with equal pace. Ye realms, yet unreveald 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! Obscure they went thro dreary shades, that led Along the waste dominions of the dead. Thus wander travelers in woods by night, By the moons doubtful and malignant light, When Jove in dusky clouds involves the skies, And the faint crescent shoots by fits before their eyes. Just in the gate and in the jaws of hell, Revengeful Cares and sullen Sorrows dwell, And pale Diseases, and repining Age, Want, Fear, and Famines unresisted rage; Here Toils, and Death, and Deaths half-brother, Sleep, Forms terrible to view, their sentry 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 evry leaf are spread. Of various forms unnumberd 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 Chimaera vomits empty flame. The chief unsheathd his shining steel, prepard, Tho seizd with sudden fear, to force the guard, Offring his brandishd weapon at their face; Had not the Sibyl stoppd 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 whirld 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, uncombd, unclean; His eyes, like hollow furnaces on fire; A girdle, foul with grease, binds his obscene attire. He spreads his canvas; with his pole he steers; The freights of flitting ghosts in his thin bottom bears. He lookd in years; yet in his years were seen A youthful vigour and autumnal green. An airy crowd came rushing where he stood, Which filld the margin of the fatal flood: Husbands and wives, boys and unmarried maids, And mighty heroes more majestic shades, And youths, intombd 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 forcd, forsake the floods, And wing their hasty flight to happier lands; Such, and so thick, the shivring 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 wondring eyes The tumult mixd with shrieks, laments, and cries, Askd of his guide, what the rude concourse meant; Why to the shore the thronging people bent; What forms of law among the ghosts were usd; Why some were ferried oer, and some refusd. Son of Anchises, offspring of the gods, The Sibyl said, you see the Stygian floods, The sacred stream which heavns imperial state Attests in oaths, and fears to violate. The ghosts rejected are th unhappy crew Deprivd of sepulchers and funral due: The boatman, Charon; those, the buried host, He ferries over to the farther coast; Nor dares his transport vessel cross the waves With such whose bones are not composd in graves. A hundred years they wander on the shore; At length, their penance done, are wafted oer. The Trojan chief his forward pace repressd, Revolving anxious thoughts within his breast, He saw his friends, who, whelmd beneath the waves, Their funral honours claimd, and askd their quiet graves. The lost Leucaspis in the crowd he knew, And the brave leader of the Lycian crew, Whom, on the Tyrrhene seas, the tempests met; The sailors masterd, and the ship oerset. Amidst the spirits, Palinurus pressd, Yet fresh from life, a new-admitted guest, Who, while he steering viewd the stars, and bore His course from Afric to the Latian shore, Fell headlong down. The Trojan fixd his view, And scarcely thro the gloom the sullen shadow knew. Then thus the prince: What envious powr, O friend, Brought your lovd life to this disastrous end? For Phoebus, ever true in all he said, Has in your fate alone my faith betrayd. The god foretold you should not die, before You reachd, secure from seas, th Italian shore. Is this th unerring powr? The ghost replied; Nor Phoebus flatterd, nor his answers lied; Nor envious gods have sent me to the deep: But, while the stars and course of heavn I keep, My wearied eyes were seizd with fatal sleep. I fell; and, with my weight, the helm constraind Was drawn along, which yet my gripe retaind. Now by the winds and raging waves I swear, Your safety, more than mine, was then my care; Lest, of the guide bereft, the rudder lost, Your ship should run against the rocky coast. Three blustring nights, borne by the southern blast, I floated, and discoverd land at last: High on a mounting wave my head I bore, Forcing my strength, and gathring to the shore. Panting, but past the danger, now I seizd The craggy cliffs, and my tird members easd. While, cumberd with my dropping clothes, I lay, The cruel nation, covetous of prey, Staind with my blood th unhospitable coast; And now, by winds and waves, my lifeless limbs are tossd: Which O avert, by yon ethereal light, Which I have lost for this eternal night! Or, if by dearer ties you may be won, By your dead sire, and by your living son, Redeem from this reproach my wandring ghost; Or with your navy seek the Velin coast, And in a peaceful grave my corpse compose; Or, if a nearer way your mother shows, Without whose aid you durst not undertake This frightful passage oer the Stygian lake, Lend to this wretch your hand, and waft him oer To the sweet banks of yon forbidden shore. Scarce had he said, the prophetess began: What hopes delude thee, miserable man? Thinkst thou, thus unintombd, to cross the floods, To view the Furies and infernal gods, And visit, without leave, the dark abodes? Attend the term of long revolving years; Fate, and the dooming gods, are deaf to tears. This comfort of thy dire misfortune take: The wrath of Heavn, inflicted for thy sake, With vengeance shall pursue th inhuman coast, Till they propitiate thy offended ghost, And raise a tomb, with vows and solemn prayr; And Palinurus name the place shall bear. This calmd his cares; soothd with his future fame, And pleasd to hear his propagated name. Now nearer to the Stygian lake they draw: Whom, from the shore, the surly boatman saw; Observd their passage thro the shady wood, And markd their near approaches to the flood. Then thus he calld aloud, inflamd with wrath: Mortal, whateer, who this forbidden path In arms presumst to tread, I charge thee, stand, And tell thy name, and busness in the land. Know this, the realm of night; the Stygian shore: My boat conveys no living bodies oer; Nor was I pleasd great Theseus once to bear, Who forcd a passage with his pointed spear, Nor strong Alcides, men of mighty fame, And from th immortal gods their lineage came. In fetters one the barking porter tied, And took him trembling from his sovreigns side: Two sought by force to seize his beauteous bride. To whom the Sibyl thus: Compose thy mind; Nor frauds are here contrivd, nor force designd. Still may the dog the wandring troops constrain Of airy ghosts, and vex the guilty train, And with her grisly lord his lovely queen remain. The Trojan chief, whose lineage is from Jove, Much famd for arms, and more for filial love, Is sent to seek his sire in your Elysian grove. If neither piety, nor Heavns command, Can gain his passage to the Stygian strand, This fatal present shall prevail at least. Then shewd the shining bough, conceald within her vest. No more was needful: for the gloomy god Stood mute with awe, to see the golden rod; Admird the destind offring to his queen; A venerable gift, so rarely seen. His fury thus appeasd, he puts to land; The ghosts forsake their seats at his command: He clears the deck, receives the mighty freight; The leaky vessel groans beneath the weight. Slowly she sails, and scarcely stems the tides; The pressing water pours within her sides. His passengers at length are wafted oer, Exposd, in muddy weeds, upon the miry shore. No sooner landed, in his den they found The triple porter of the Stygian sound, Grim Cerberus, who soon began to rear His crested snakes, and armd his bristling hair. The prudent Sibyl had before prepard A sop, in honey steepd, to charm the guard; Which, mixd with powrful drugs, she cast before His greedy grinning jaws, just opd to roar. With three enormous mouths he gapes; and straight, With hunger pressd, devours the pleasing bait. Long draughts of sleep his monstrous limbs enslave; He reels, and, falling, fills the spacious cave. The keeper charmd, the chief without delay Passd on, and took th irremeable way. Before the gates, the cries of babes new born, Whom fate had from their tender mothers torn, Assault his ears: then those, whom form of laws Condemnd to die, when traitors judgd their cause. Nor want they lots, nor judges to review The wrongful sentence, and award a new. Minos, the strict inquisitor, appears; And lives and crimes, with his assessors, hears. Round in his urn the blended balls he rolls, Absolves the just, and dooms the guilty souls. The next, in place and punishment, are they Who prodigally throw their souls away; Fools, who, repining at their wretched state, And loathing anxious life, subornd their fate. With late repentance now they would retrieve The bodies they forsook, and wish to live; Their pains and poverty desire to bear, To view the light of heavn, and breathe the vital air: But fate forbids; the Stygian floods oppose, And with circling streams the captive souls inclose. Not far from thence, the Mournful Fields appear So calld from lovers that inhabit there. The souls whom that unhappy flame invades, In secret solitude and myrtle shades Make endless moans, and, pining with desire, Lament too late their unextinguishd fire. Here Procris, Eriphyle here he found, Baring her breast, yet bleeding with the wound Made by her son. He saw Pasiphae there, With Phaedras ghost, a foul incestuous pair. There Laodamia, with Evadne, moves, Unhappy both, but loyal in their loves: Caeneus, a woman once, and once a man, But ending in the sex she first began. Not far from these Phoenician Dido stood, Fresh from her wound, her bosom bathd in blood; Whom when the Trojan hero hardly knew, Obscure in shades, and with a doubtful view, (Doubtful as he who sees, thro dusky night, Or thinks he sees, the moons uncertain light,) With tears he first approachd the sullen shade; And, as his love inspird him, thus he said: Unhappy queen! then is the common breath Of rumour true, in your reported death, And I, alas! the cause? By Heavn, I vow, And all the powrs that rule the realms below, Unwilling I forsook your friendly state, Commanded by the gods, and forcd by fate. Those gods, that fate, whose unresisted might Have sent me to these regions void of light, Thro the vast empire of eternal night. Nor dard I to presume, that, pressd with grief, My flight should urge you to this dire relief. Stay, stay your steps, and listen to my vows: Tis the last interview that fate allows! In vain he thus attempts her mind to move With tears, and prayrs, and late-repenting love. Disdainfully she lookd; then turning round, But fixd her eyes unmovd upon the ground, And what he says and swears, regards no more Than the deaf rocks, when the loud billows roar; But whirld away, to shun his hateful sight, Hid in the forest and the shades of night; Then sought Sichaeus thro the shady grove, Who answerd all her cares, and equald all her love. Some pious tears the pitying hero paid, And followd with his eyes the flitting shade, Then took the forward way, by fate ordaind, And, with his guide, the farther fields attaind, Where, severd from the rest, the warrior souls remaind. Tydeus he met, with Meleagers race, The pride of armies, and the soldiers grace; And pale Adrastus with his ghastly face. Of Trojan chiefs he viewd a numrous train, All much lamented, all in battle slain; Glaucus and Medon, high above the rest, Antenors sons, and Ceres sacred priest. And proud Idaeus, Priams charioteer, Who shakes his empty reins, and aims his airy spear. The gladsome ghosts, in circling troops, attend And with unwearied eyes behold their friend; Delight to hover near, and long to know What busness brought him to the realms below. But Argive chiefs, and Agamemnons train, When his refulgent arms flashd thro the shady plain, Fled from his well-known face, with wonted fear, As when his thundring sword and pointed spear Drove headlong to their ships, and gleand the routed rear. They raisd a feeble cry, with trembling notes; But the weak voice deceivd their gasping throats. Here Priams son, Deiphobus, he found, Whose face and limbs were one continued wound: Dishonest, with loppd arms, the youth appears, Spoild of his nose, and shortend of his ears. He scarcely knew him, striving to disown His blotted form, and blushing to be known; And therefore first began: O Teucers race, Who durst thy faultless figure thus deface? What heart could wish, what hand inflict, this dire disgrace? Twas famd, that in our last and fatal night Your single prowess long sustaind the fight, Till tird, not forcd, a glorious fate you chose, And fell upon a heap of slaughterd foes. But, in remembrance of so brave a deed, A tomb and funral honours I decreed; Thrice calld your manes on the Trojan plains: The place your armour and your name retains. Your body too I sought, and, had I found, Designd for burial in your native ground. The ghost replied: Your piety has paid All needful rites, to rest my wandring shade; But cruel fate, and my more cruel wife, To Grecian swords betrayd my sleeping life. These are the monuments of Helens love: The shame I bear below, the marks I bore above. You know in what deluding joys we passd The night that was by Heavn decreed our last: For, when the fatal horse, descending down, Pregnant with arms, oerwhelmd th unhappy town She feignd nocturnal orgies; left my bed, And, mixd with Trojan dames, the dances led Then, waving high her torch, the signal made, Which rousd the Grecians from their ambuscade. With watching overworn, with cares oppressd, Unhappy I had laid me down to rest, And heavy sleep my weary limbs possessd. Meantime my worthy wife our arms mislaid, And from beneath my head my sword conveyd; The door unlatchd, and, with repeated calls, Invites her former lord within my walls. Thus in her crime her confidence she placd, And with new treasons would redeem the past. What need I more? Into the room they ran, And meanly murderd a defenceless man. Ulysses, basely born, first led the way. Avenging powrs! with justice if I pray, That fortune be their own another day! But answer you; and in your turn relate, What brought you, living, to the Stygian state: Drivn by the winds and errors of the sea, Or did you Heavns superior doom obey? Or tell what other chance conducts your way, To view with mortal eyes our dark retreats, Tumults and torments of th infernal seats. While thus in talk the flying hours they pass, The sun had finishd more than half his race: And they, perhaps, in words and tears had spent The little time of stay which Heavn had lent; But thus the Sibyl chides their long delay: Night rushes down, and headlong drives the day: Tis here, in different paths, the way divides; The right to Plutos golden palace guides; The left to that unhappy region tends, Which to the depth of Tartarus descends; The seat of night profound, and punishd fiends. Then thus Deiphobus: O sacred maid, Forbear to chide, and be your will obeyd! Lo! to the secret shadows I retire, To pay my penance till my years expire. Proceed, auspicious prince, with glory crownd, And born to better fates than I have found. He said; and, while he said, his steps he turnd To secret shadows, and in silence mournd. The hero, looking on the left, espied A lofty towr, and strong on evry side With treble walls, which Phlegethon surrounds, Whose fiery flood the burning empire bounds; And, pressd betwixt the rocks, the bellowing noise resounds Wide is the fronting gate, and, raisd on high With adamantine columns, threats the sky. Vain is the force of man, and Heavns as vain, To crush the pillars which the pile sustain. Sublime on these a towr of steel is reard; And dire Tisiphone there keeps the ward, Girt in her sanguine gown, by night and day, Observant of the souls that pass the downward way. From hence are heard the groans of ghosts, the pains Of sounding lashes and of dragging chains. The Trojan stood astonishd at their cries, And askd his guide from whence those yells arise; And what the crimes, and what the tortures were, And loud laments that rent the liquid air. She thus replied: The chaste and holy race Are all forbidden this polluted place. But Hecate, when she gave to rule the woods, Then led me trembling thro these dire abodes, And taught the tortures of th avenging gods. These are the realms of unrelenting fate; And awful Rhadamanthus rules the state. He hears and judges each committed crime; Enquires into the manner, place, and time. The conscious wretch must all his acts reveal, Loth to confess, unable to conceal, From the first moment of his vital breath, To his last hour of unrepenting death. Straight, oer the guilty ghost, the Fury shakes The sounding whip and brandishes her snakes, And the pale sinner, with her sisters, takes. Then, of itself, unfolds th eternal door; With dreadful sounds the brazen hinges roar. You see, before the gate, what stalking ghost Commands the guard, what sentries keep the post. More formidable Hydra stands within, Whose jaws with iron teeth severely grin. The gaping gulf low to the centre lies, And twice as deep as earth is distant from the skies. The rivals of the gods, the Titan race, Here, singd with lightning, roll within th unfathomd space. Here lie th Alaean twins, (I saw them both,) Enormous bodies, of gigantic growth, Who dard in fight the Thundrer to defy, Affect his heavn, and force him from the sky. Salmoneus, suffring cruel pains, I found, For emulating Jove; the rattling sound Of mimic thunder, and the glittring blaze Of pointed lightnings, and their forky rays. Thro Elis and the Grecian towns he flew; Th audacious wretch four fiery coursers drew: He wavd a torch aloft, and, madly vain, Sought godlike worship from a servile train. Ambitious fool! with horny hoofs to pass Oer hollow arches of resounding brass, To rival thunder in its rapid course, And imitate inimitable force! But he, the King of Heavn, obscure on high, Bard his red arm, and, launching from the sky His writhen bolt, not shaking empty smoke, Down to the deep abyss the flaming felon strook. There Tityus was to see, who took his birth From heavn, his nursing from the foodful earth. Here his gigantic limbs, with large embrace, Infold nine acres of infernal space. A ravnous vulture, in his opend side, Her crooked beak and cruel talons tried; Still for the growing liver diggd his breast; The growing liver still supplied the feast; Still are his entrails fruitful to their pains: Th immortal hunger lasts, th immortal food remains. Ixion and Perithous I could name, And more Thessalian chiefs of mighty fame. High oer their heads a mouldring rock is placd, That promises a fall, and shakes at evry blast. They lie below, on golden beds displayd; And genial feasts with regal pomp are made. The Queen of Furies by their sides is set, And snatches from their mouths th untasted meat, Which if they touch, her hissing snakes she rears, Tossing her torch, and thundring in their ears. Then they, who brothers better claim disown, Expel their parents, and usurp the throne; Defraud their clients, and, to lucre sold, Sit brooding on unprofitable gold; Who dare not give, and evn refuse to lend To their poor kindred, or a wanting friend. Vast is the throng of these; nor less the train Of lustful youths, for foul adultry slain: Hosts of deserters, who their honour sold, And basely broke their faith for bribes of gold. All these within the dungeons depth remain, Despairing pardon, and expecting pain. Ask not what pains; nor farther seek to know Their process, or the forms of law below. Some roll a weighty stone; some, laid along, And bound with burning wires, on spokes of wheels are hung Unhappy Theseus, doomd for ever there, Is fixd by fate on his eternal chair; And wretched Phlegyas warns the world with cries (Could warning make the world more just or wise): Learn righteousness, and dread th avenging deities. To tyrants others have their country sold, Imposing foreign lords, for foreign gold; Some have old laws repeald, new statutes made, Not as the people pleasd, but as they paid; With incest some their daughters bed profand: All dard the worst of ills, and, what they dard, attaind. Had I a hundred mouths, a hundred tongues, And throats of brass, inspird with iron lungs, I could not half those horrid crimes repeat, Nor half the punishments those crimes have met. But let us haste our voyage to pursue: The walls of Plutos palace are in view; The gate, and iron arch above it, stands On anvils labourd by the Cyclops hands. Before our farther way the Fates allow, Here must we fix on high the golden bough. She said, and thro the gloomy shades they passd, And chose the middle path. Arrivd at last, The prince with living water sprinkled oer His limbs and body; then approachd the door, Possessd the porch, and on the front above He fixd the fatal bough requird by Plutos love. These holy rites performd, they took their way Where long extended plains of pleasure lay: The verdant fields with those of heavn may vie, With ether vested, and a purple sky; The blissful seats of happy souls below. Stars of their own, and their own suns, they know; Their airy limbs in sports they exercise, And on the green contend the wrestlers prize. Some in heroic verse divinely sing; Others in artful measures led the ring. The Thracian bard, surrounded by the rest, There stands conspicuous in his flowing vest; His flying fingers, and harmonious quill, Strikes sevn distinguishd notes, and sevn at once they fill. Here found they Teucers old heroic race, Born better times and happier years to grace. Assaracus and Ilus here enjoy Perpetual fame, with him who founded Troy. The chief beheld their chariots from afar, Their shining arms, and coursers traind to war: Their lances fixd in earth, their steeds around, Free from their harness, graze the flowry ground. The love of horses which they had, alive, And care of chariots, after death survive. Some cheerful souls were feasting on the plain; Some did the song, and some the choir maintain, Beneath a laurel shade, where mighty Po Mounts up to woods above, and hides his head below. Here patriots live, who, for their countrys good, In fighting fields, were prodigal of blood: Priests of unblemishd lives here make abode, And poets worthy their inspiring god; And searching wits, of more mechanic parts, Who gracd their age with new-invented arts: Those who to worth their bounty did extend, And those who knew that bounty to commend. The heads of these with holy fillets bound, And all their temples were with garlands crownd. To these the Sibyl thus her speech addressd, And first to him surrounded by the rest Towring his height, and ample was his breast; Say, happy souls, divine Musaeus, say, Where lives Anchises, and where lies our way To find the hero, for whose only sake We sought the dark abodes, and crossd the bitter lake? To this the sacred poet thus replied: In no fixd place the happy souls reside. In groves we live, and lie on mossy beds, By crystal streams, that murmur thro the meads: But pass yon easy hill, and thence descend; The path conducts you to your journeys end. This said, he led them up the mountains brow, And shews them all the shining fields below. They wind the hill, and thro the blissful meadows go. But old Anchises, in a flowry vale, Reviewd his musterd race, and took the tale: Those happy spirits, which, ordaind by fate, For future beings and new bodies wait. With studious thought observd th illustrious throng, In natures order as they passd along: Their names, their fates, their conduct, and their care, In peaceful senates and successful war. He, when Aeneas on the plain appears, Meets him with open arms, and falling tears. Welcome, he said, the gods undoubted race! O long expected to my dear embrace! Once more tis givn me to behold your face! The love and pious duty which you pay Have passd the perils of so hard a way. Tis true, computing times, I now believd The happy day approachd; nor are my hopes deceivd. What length of lands, what oceans have you passd; What storms sustaind, and on what shores been cast? How have I feard your fate! but feard it most, When love assaild you, on the Libyan coast. To this, the filial duty thus replies: Your sacred ghost before my sleeping eyes Appeard, and often urgd this painful enterprise. After long tossing on the Tyrrhene sea, My navy rides at anchor in the bay. But reach your hand, O parent shade, nor shun The dear embraces of your longing son! He said; and falling tears his face bedew: Then thrice around his neck his arms he threw; And thrice the flitting shadow slippd away, Like winds, or empty dreams that fly the day. Now, in a secret vale, the Trojan sees A seprate grove, thro which a gentle breeze Plays with a passing breath, and whispers thro the trees; And, just before the confines of the wood, The gliding Lethe leads her silent flood. About the boughs an airy nation flew, Thick as the humming bees, that hunt the golden dew; In summers heat on tops of lilies feed, And creep within their bells, to suck the balmy seed: The winged army roams the fields around; The rivers and the rocks remurmur to the sound. Aeneas wondring stood, then askd the cause Which to the stream the crowding people draws. Then thus the sire: The souls that throng the flood Are those to whom, by fate, are other bodies owd: In Lethes lake they long oblivion taste, Of future life secure, forgetful of the past. Long has my soul desird this time and place, To set before your sight your glorious race, That this presaging joy may fire your mind To seek the shores by destiny designd. O father, can it be, that souls sublime Return to visit our terrestrial clime, And that the genrous mind, releasd by death, Can covet lazy limbs and mortal breath? Anchises then, in order, thus begun To clear those wonders to his godlike son: Know, first, that heavn, and earths compacted frame, And flowing waters, and the starry flame, And both the radiant lights, one common soul Inspires and feeds, and animates the whole. This active mind, infusd thro all the space, Unites and mingles with the mighty mass. Hence men and beasts the breath of life obtain, And birds of air, and monsters of the main. Th ethereal vigour is in all the same, And every soul is filld with equal flame; As much as earthy limbs, and gross allay Of mortal members, subject to decay, Blunt not the beams of heavn and edge of day. From this coarse mixture of terrestrial parts, Desire and fear by turns possess their hearts, And grief, and joy; nor can the groveling mind, In the dark dungeon of the limbs confind, Assert the native skies, or own its heavnly kind: Nor death itself can wholly wash their stains; But long-contracted filth evn in the soul remains. The relics of inveterate vice they wear, And spots of sin obscene in evry face appear. For this are various penances enjoind; And some are hung to bleach upon the wind, Some plungd in waters, others purgd in fires, Till all the dregs are draind, and all the rust expires. All have their manes, and those manes bear: The few, so cleansd, to these abodes repair, And breathe, in ample fields, the soft Elysian air. Then are they happy, when by length of time The scurf is worn away of each committed crime; No speck is left of their habitual stains, But the pure ether of the soul remains. But, when a thousand rolling years are past, (So long their punishments and penance last,) Whole droves of minds are, by the driving god, Compelld to drink the deep Lethaean flood, In large forgetful draughts to steep the cares Of their past labours, and their irksome years, That, unremembring of its former pain, The soul may suffer mortal flesh again. Thus having said, the father spirit leads The priestess and his son thro swarms of shades, And takes a rising ground, from thence to see The long procession of his progeny. Survey, pursued the sire, this airy throng, As, offerd to thy view, they pass along. These are th Italian names, which fate will join With ours, and graff upon the Trojan line. Observe the youth who first appears in sight, And holds the nearest station to the light, Already seems to snuff the vital air, And leans just forward, on a shining spear: Silvius is he, thy last-begotten race, But first in order sent, to fill thy place; An Alban name, but mixd with Dardan blood, Born in the covert of a shady wood: Him fair Lavinia, thy surviving wife, Shall breed in groves, to lead a solitary life. In Alba he shall fix his royal seat, And, born a king, a race of kings beget. Then Procas, honour of the Trojan name, Capys, and Numitor, of endless fame. A second Silvius after these appears; Silvius Aeneas, for thy name he bears; For arms and justice equally renownd, Who, late restord, in Alba shall be crownd. How great they look! how vigrously they wield Their weighty lances, and sustain the shield! But they, who crownd with oaken wreaths appear, Shall Gabian walls and strong Fidena rear; Nomentum, Bola, with Pometia, found; And raise Collatian towrs on rocky ground. All these shall then be towns of mighty fame, Tho now they lie obscure, and lands without a name. See Romulus the great, born to restore The crown that once his injurd grandsire wore. This prince a priestess of your blood shall bear, And like his sire in arms he shall appear. Two rising crests, his royal head adorn; Born from a god, himself to godhead born: His sire already signs him for the skies, And marks the seat amidst the deities. Auspicious chief! thy race, in times to come, Shall spread the conquests of imperial Rome. Rome, whose ascending towrs shall heavn invade, Involving earth and ocean in her shade; High as the Mother of the Gods in place, And proud, like her, of an immortal race. Then, when in pomp she makes the Phrygian round, With golden turrets on her temples crownd; A hundred gods her sweeping train supply; Her offspring all, and all command the sky. Now fix your sight, and stand intent, to see Your Roman race, and Julian progeny. The mighty Caesar waits his vital hour, Impatient for the world, and grasps his promisd powr. But next behold the youth of form divine, Caesar himself, exalted in his line; Augustus, promisd oft, and long foretold, Sent to the realm that Saturn ruld of old; Born to restore a better age of gold. Afric and India shall his powr obey; He shall extend his propagated sway Beyond the solar year, without the starry way, Where Atlas turns the rolling heavns around, And his broad shoulders with their lights are crownd. At his foreseen approach, already quake The Caspian kingdoms and Maeotian lake: Their seers behold the tempest from afar, And threatning oracles denounce the war. Nile hears him knocking at his sevnfold gates, And seeks his hidden spring, and fears his nephews fates. Nor Hercules more lands or labours knew, Not tho the brazen-footed hind he slew, Freed Erymanthus from the foaming boar, And dippd his arrows in Lernaean gore; Nor Bacchus, turning from his Indian war, By tigers drawn triumphant in his car, From Nisus top descending on the plains, With curling vines around his purple reins. And doubt we yet thro dangers to pursue The paths of honour, and a crown in view? But whats the man, who from afar appears? His head with olive crownd, his hand a censer bears, His hoary beard and holy vestments bring His lost idea back: I know the Roman king. He shall to peaceful Rome new laws ordain, Calld from his mean abode a scepter to sustain. Him Tullus next in dignity succeeds, An active prince, and prone to martial deeds. He shall his troops for fighting fields prepare, Disusd to toils, and triumphs of the war. By dint of sword his crown he shall increase, And scour his armour from the rust of peace. Whom Ancus follows, with a fawning air, But vain within, and proudly popular. Next view the Tarquin kings, th avenging sword Of Brutus, justly drawn, and Rome restord. He first renews the rods and ax severe, And gives the consuls royal robes to wear. His sons, who seek the tyrant to sustain, And long for arbitrary lords again, With ignominy scourgd, in open sight, He dooms to death deservd, asserting public right. Unhappy man, to break the pious laws Of nature, pleading in his childrens cause! Howeer the doubtful fact is understood, Tis love of honour, and his countrys good: The consul, not the father, sheds the blood. Behold Torquatus the same track pursue; And, next, the two devoted Decii view: The Drusian line, Camillus loaded home With standards well redeemd, and foreign foes oercome The pair you see in equal armour shine, Now, friends below, in close embraces join; But, when they leave the shady realms of night, And, clothd in bodies, breathe your upper light, With mortal hate each other shall pursue: What wars, what wounds, what slaughter shall ensue! From Alpine heights the father first descends; His daughters husband in the plain attends: His daughters husband arms his eastern friends. Embrace again, my sons, be foes no more; Nor stain your country with her childrens gore! And thou, the first, lay down thy lawless claim, Thou, of my blood, who bearst the Julian name! Another comes, who shall in triumph ride, And to the Capitol his chariot guide, From conquerd Corinth, rich with Grecian spoils. And yet another, famd for warlike toils, On Argos shall impose the Roman laws, And on the Greeks revenge the Trojan cause; Shall drag in chains their Achillean race; Shall vindicate his ancestors disgrace, And Pallas, for her violated place. Great Cato there, for gravity renownd, And conquring Cossus goes with laurels crownd. Who can omit the Gracchi? who declare The Scipios worth, those thunderbolts of war, The double bane of Carthage? Who can see Without esteem for virtuous poverty, Severe Fabricius, or can cease t admire The plowman consul in his coarse attire? Tird as I am, my praise the Fabii claim; And thou, great hero, greatest of thy name, Ordaind in war to save the sinking state, And, by delays, to put a stop to fate! Let others better mould the running mass Of metals, and inform the breathing brass, And soften into flesh a marble face; Plead better at the bar; describe the skies, And when the stars descend, and when they rise. But, Rome, tis thine alone, with awful sway, To rule mankind, and make the world obey, Disposing peace and war by thy own majestic way; To tame the proud, the fetterd slave to free: These are imperial arts, and worthy thee. He pausd; and, while with wondring eyes they viewd The passing spirits, thus his speech renewd: See great Marcellus! how, untird in toils, He moves with manly grace, how rich with regal spoils! He, when his country, threatend with alarms, Requires his courage and his conquring arms, Shall more than once the Punic bands affright; Shall kill the Gaulish king in single fight; Then to the Capitol in triumph move, And the third spoils shall grace Feretrian Jove. Aeneas here beheld, of form divine, A godlike youth in glittring armour shine, With great Marcellus keeping equal pace; But gloomy were his eyes, dejected was his face. He saw, and, wondring, askd his airy guide, What and of whence was he, who pressd the heros side: His son, or one of his illustrious name? How like the former, and almost the same! Observe the crowds that compass him around; All gaze, and all admire, and raise a shouting sound: But hovring mists around his brows are spread, And night, with sable shades, involves his head. Seek not to know, the ghost replied with tears, The sorrows of thy sons in future years. This youth (the blissful vision of a day) Shall just be shown on earth, and snatchd away. The gods too high had raisd the Roman state, Were but their gifts as permanent as great. What groans of men shall fill the Martian field! How fierce a blaze his flaming pile shall yield! What funral pomp shall floating Tiber see, When, rising from his bed, he views the sad solemnity! No youth shall equal hopes of glory give, No youth afford so great a cause to grieve; The Trojan honour, and the Roman boast, Admird when living, and adord when lost! Mirror of ancient faith in early youth! Undaunted worth, inviolable truth! No foe, unpunishd, in the fighting field Shall dare thee, foot to foot, with sword and shield; Much less in arms oppose thy matchless force, When thy sharp spurs shall urge thy foaming horse. Ah! couldst thou break thro fates severe decree, A new Marcellus shall arise in thee! Full canisters of fragrant lilies bring, Mixd with the purple roses of the spring; Let me with funral flowrs his body strow; This gift which parents to their children owe, This unavailing gift, at least, I may bestow! Thus having said, he led the hero round The confines of the blest Elysian ground; Which when Anchises to his son had shown, And fird his mind to mount the promisd throne, He tells the future wars, ordaind by fate; The strength and customs of the Latian state; The prince, and people; and forearms his care With rules, to push his fortune, or to bear. Two gates the silent house of Sleep adorn; Of polishd ivory this, that of transparent horn: True visions thro transparent horn arise; Thro polishd ivory pass deluding lies. Of various things discoursing as he passd, Anchises hither bends his steps at last. Then, thro the gate of ivry, he dismissd His valiant offspring and divining guest. Straight to the ships Aeneas took his way, Embarkd his men, and skimmd along the sea, Still coasting, till he gaind Cajetas bay. At length on oozy ground his galleys moor; Their heads are turnd to sea, their sterns to shore.