No More Learning

When they have ridden merrily
round all the concourse of their gazing friends, Epytides shouts from
afar the signal they await, and sounds his whip. They gallop apart in
equal numbers, and open their files three and three in deploying bands,
and again at the call wheel about and bear down with levelled arms. Next
they start on other charges and other retreats in corresponsive spaces,
and interlink circle with circle, and wage the armed phantom of battle.
And now they bare their backs in flight, now turn their lances to the
charge, now plight peace and ride on side by side. As once of old, they
say, the labyrinth in high Crete had a tangled path between blind walls,
and a thousand ways of doubling treachery, where tokens to follow failed
in the [591-625]maze unmastered and irrecoverable: even in such a track
do the children of Troy entangle their footsteps and weave the game of
flight and battle; like dolphins who, swimming through the wet seas, cut
Carpathian or Libyan. . . .

This fashion of riding, these games Ascanius first revived, when he girt
Alba the Long about with walls, and taught their celebration to the Old
Latins in the way of his own boyhood, with the youth of Troy about him.
The Albans taught it their children; on from them mighty Rome received
it and kept the ancestral observance; and now it is called Troy, and the
boys the Trojan troop.

Thus far sped the sacred contests to their holy lord. Just at this
Fortune broke faith and grew estranged. While they pay the due rites to
the tomb with diverse games, Juno, daughter of Saturn, sends Iris down
the sky to the Ilian fleet, and breathes a gale to speed her on,
revolving many a thought, and not yet satiate of the ancient pain. She,
speeding her way along the thousand-coloured bow, runs swiftly, seen of
none, down her maiden path. She discerns the vast concourse, and
traverses the shore, and sees the haven abandoned and the fleet left
alone. But far withdrawn by the solitary verge of the sea the Trojan
women wept their lost Anchises, and as they wept gazed all together on
the fathomless flood. 'Alas! after all those weary waterways, that so
wide a sea is yet to come! ' such is the single cry of all. They pray for
a city, sick of the burden of their sea-sorrow. So she darts among them,
not witless to harm, and lays by face and raiment of a goddess: she
becomes Beroe, the aged wife of Tmarian Doryclus, who had once had birth
and name and children, and in this guise goes among the Dardanian
matrons. 'Ah, wretched we,' she cries, 'whom hostile Achaean hands did
not drag to death beneath our native city! ah hapless race, for what
destruction does Fortune hold thee back? The [626-660]seventh summer
now declines since Troy's overthrow, while we pass measuring out by so
many stars the harbourless rocks over every water and land, pursuing all
the while over the vast sea an Italy that flies us, and tossing on the
waves. Here are our brother Eryx' borders, and Acestes' welcome: who
denies us to cast up walls and give our citizens a city? O country, O
household gods vainly rescued from the foe! shall there never be a
Trojan town to tell of? shall I nowhere see a Xanthus and a Simois, the
rivers of Hector? Nay, up and join me in burning with fire these
ill-ominous ships. For in sleep the phantom of Cassandra the soothsayer
seemed to give me blazing brands: _Here seek your Troy_, she said; _here
is your home_. Now is the time to do it; nor do these high portents
allow delay. Behold four altars to Neptune; the god himself lends the
firebrand and the nerve. ' Speaking thus, at once she strongly seizes the
fiery weapon, and with straining hand whirls it far upreared, and
flings: the souls of the Ilian women are startled and their wits amazed.
At this one of their multitude, and she the eldest, Pyrgo, nurse in the
palace to all Priam's many children: 'This is not Beroe, I tell you, O
mothers; this is not the wife of Doryclus of Rhoeteum. Mark the
lineaments of divine grace and the gleaming eyes, what a breath is hers,
what a countenance, and the sound of her voice and the steps of her
going. I, I time agone left Beroe apart, sick and fretting that she
alone must have no part in this our service, nor pay Anchises his due
sacrifice. ' So spoke she. . . . But the matrons at first, dubious and
wavering, gazed on the ships with malignant eyes, between the wretched
longing for the land they trod and the fated realm that summoned them:
when the goddess rose through the sky on poised wings, and in her flight
drew a vast bow beneath the clouds. Then indeed, amazed at the tokens
and driven by madness, they raise a cry and snatch fire from the
[661-694]hearths within; others plunder the altars, and cast on
brushwood boughs and brands. The Fire-god rages with loose rein over
thwarts and oars and hulls of painted fir. Eumelus carries the news of
the burning ships to the grave of Anchises and the ranges of the
theatre; and looking back, their own eyes see the floating cloud of dark
ashes. And in a moment Ascanius, as he rode gaily before his cavalry,
spurred his horse to the disordered camp; nor can his breathless
guardians hold him back. 'What strange madness is this? ' he cries;
'whither now hasten you, whither, alas and woe! O citizens? not on the
foe nor on some hostile Argive camp; it is your own hopes you burn.
Behold me, your Ascanius! ' and he flung before his feet the empty
helmet, put on when he roused the mimicry of war. Aeneas and the Trojan
train together hurry to the spot. But the women scatter apart in fear
all over the beach, and stealthily seek the woods and the hollow rocks
they find: they loathe their deed and the daylight, and with changed
eyes know their people, and Juno is startled out of their breast. But
not thereby do the flames of the burning lay down their unconquered
strength; under the wet oak the seams are alive, spouting slow coils of
smoke; the creeping heat devours the hulls, and the destroyer takes deep
hold of all: nor does the heroes' strength avail nor the floods they
pour in. Then good Aeneas rent away the raiment from his shoulders and
called the gods to aid, stretching forth his hands: 'Jupiter omnipotent,
if thou hatest not Troy yet wholly to her last man, if thine ancient
pity looks at all on human woes, now, O Lord, grant our fleet to escape
the flame, and rescue from doom the slender Teucrian estate. Or do thou
plunge to death this remnant, if I deserve it, with levelled
thunderbolt, and here with thine own hand smite us down. ' Scarce had he
uttered this, when a black tempest rages in streaming showers; earth
trembles [695-726]to the thunder on plain and steep; the water-flood
rushes in torrents from the whole heaven amid black darkness and
volleying blasts of the South. The ships are filled from overhead, the
half-burnt timbers are soaking; till all the heat is quenched, and all
the hulls, but four that are lost, are rescued from destruction.

But lord Aeneas, dismayed by the bitter mischance, revolved at heart
this way and that his shifting weight of care, whether, forgetting fate,
he should rest in Sicilian fields, or reach forth to the borders of
Italy. Then old Nautes, whom Tritonian Pallas taught like none other,
and made famous in eminence of art--she granted him to reply what the
gods' heavy anger menaced or what the order of fate claimed--he then in
accents of comfort thus speaks to Aeneas:

'Goddess-born, follow we fate's ebb and flow, whatsoever it shall be;
fortune must be borne to be overcome. Acestes is of thine own divine
Dardanian race; take him, for he is willing, to join thee in common
counsel; deliver to him those who are over, now these ships are lost,
and those who are quite weary of thy fortunes and the great quest.
Choose out the old men stricken in years, and the matrons sick of the
sea, and all that is weak and fearful of peril in thy company. Let this
land give a city to the weary; they shall be allowed to call their town
Acesta by name. '

Then, indeed, kindled by these words of his aged friend, his spirit is
distracted among all his cares. And now black Night rose chariot-borne,
and held the sky; when the likeness of his father Anchises seemed to
descend from heaven and suddenly utter thus:

'O son, more dear to me than life once of old while life was yet mine; O
son, hard wrought by the destinies of Ilium! I come hither by Jove's
command, who drove the [727-760]fire from thy fleets, and at last had
pity out of high heaven. Obey thou the fair counsel aged Nautes now
gives. Carry through to Italy thy chosen men and bravest souls; in
Latium must thou war down a people hard and rough in living. Yet ere
then draw thou nigh the nether chambers of Dis, and in the deep tract of
hell come, O son, to meet me. For I am not held in cruel Tartarus among
wailing ghosts, but inhabit Elysium and the sweet societies of the good.
Hither with much blood of dark cattle shall the holy Sibyl lead thee.
Then shalt thou learn of all thy line, and what city is given thee. And
now farewell; dank Night wheels her mid-career, and even now I feel the
stern breath of the panting horses of the East. ' He ended, and retreated
like a vapour into thin air. 'Ah, whither hurriest thou? ' cries Aeneas;
'whither so fast away? From whom fliest thou? or who withholds thee from
our embrace? ' So speaking, he kindles the sleeping embers of the fire,
and with holy meal and laden censer does sacrifice to the tutelar of
Pergama and hoar Vesta's secret shrine.

Straightway he summons his crews and Acestes first of all, and instructs
them of Jove's command and his beloved father's precepts, and what is
now his fixed mind and purpose. They linger not in counsel, nor does
Acestes decline his bidden duty: they enrol the matrons in their town,
and plant a people there, souls that will have none of glory. The rest
repair the thwarts and replace the ships' timbers that the flames had
gnawed upon, and fit up oars and rigging, little in number, but alive
and valiant for war. Meanwhile Aeneas traces the town with the plough
and allots the homesteads; this he bids be Ilium, and these lands Troy.
Trojan Acestes, rejoicing in his kingdom, appoints a court and gathers
his senators to give them statutes. Next, where the crest of Eryx is
neighbour to the stars, a dwelling is founded to Venus the Idalian;
[761-793]and a priest and breadth of holy wood is attached to Anchises'
grave.

And now for nine days all the people hath feasted, and offering been
paid at the altars; quiet breezes have smoothed the ocean floor, and the
gathering south wind blows, calling them again to sea. A mighty weeping
arises along the winding shore; a night and a day they linger in mutual
embraces. The very mothers now, the very men to whom once the sight of
the sea seemed cruel and the name intolerable, would go on and endure
the journey's travail to the end. These Aeneas comforts with kindly
words, and commends with tears to his kinsman Acestes' care. Then he
bids slay three steers to Eryx and a she-lamb to the Tempests, and loose
the hawser as is due. Himself, his head bound with stripped leaves of
olive, he stands apart on the prow holding the cup, and casts the
entrails into the salt flood and pours liquid wine. A wind rising astern
follows them forth on their way. Emulously the crews strike the water,
and sweep through the seas.

But Venus meanwhile, wrought upon with distress, accosts Neptune, and
thus pours forth her heart's complaint: 'Juno's bitter wrath and heart
insatiable compel me, O Neptune, to sink to the uttermost of entreaty:
neither length of days nor any goodness softens her, nor doth Jove's
command and fate itself break her to desistence. It is not enough that
her accursed hatred hath devoured the Phrygian city from among the
people, and exhausted on it the stores of vengeance; still she pursues
this remnant, the bones and ashes of murdered Troy. I pray she know why
her passion is so fierce. Thyself art my witness what a sudden stir she
raised of late on the Libyan waters, flinging all the seas to heaven in
vain reliance on Aeolus' blasts; this she dared in thy realm. . . .
Lo too, driving the Trojan matrons into guilt, she hath foully
[794-826]burned their ships, and forced them, their fleet lost, to
leave the crews to an unknown land. Let the remnant, I beseech thee,
give their sails to thy safe keeping across the seas; let them reach
Laurentine Tiber; if I ask what is permitted, if fate grants them a city
there. '

Then the son of Saturn, compeller of the ocean deep, uttered thus: 'It
is wholly right, O Cytherean, that thy trust should be in my realm,
whence thou drawest birth; and I have deserved it: often have I allayed
the rage and full fury of sky and sea. Nor less on land, I call Xanthus
and Simois to witness, hath been my care of thine Aeneas. When Achilles
pursued the Trojan armies and hurled them breathless on their walls, and
sent many thousands to death,--when the choked rivers groaned and
Xanthus could not find passage or roll out to sea,--then I snatched
Aeneas away in sheltering mist as he met the brave son of Peleus
outmatched in strength and gods, eager as I was to overthrow the walls
of perjured Troy that mine own hands had built. Now too my mind rests
the same; dismiss thy fear. In safety, as thou desirest, shall he reach
the haven of Avernus. One will there be alone whom on the flood thou
shalt lose and require; one life shall be given for many. . . . '

With these words the goddess' bosom is soothed to joy. Then their lord
yokes his wild horses with gold and fastens the foaming bits, and
letting all the reins run slack in his hand, flies lightly in his
sea-coloured chariot over the ocean surface. The waves sink to rest, and
the swoln water-ways smooth out under the thundering axle; the
storm-clouds scatter from the vast sky. Diverse shapes attend him,
monstrous whales, and Glaucus' aged choir, and Palaemon, son of Ino, the
swift Tritons, and Phorcus with all his army. Thetis and Melite keep the
left, and maiden Panopea, Nesaea and Spio, Thalia and Cymodoce.

[827-860]At this lord Aeneas' soul is thrilled with soft counterchange
of delight. He bids all the masts be upreared with speed, and the sails
stretched on the yards. Together all set their sheets, and all at once
slacken their canvas to left and again to right; together they brace and
unbrace the yard-arms aloft; prosperous gales waft the fleet along.
First, in front of all, Palinurus steered the close column; the rest
under orders ply their course by his. And now dewy Night had just
reached heaven's mid-cone; the sailors, stretched on their hard benches
under the oars, relaxed their limbs in quiet rest: when Sleep, sliding
lightly down from the starry sky, parted the shadowy air and cleft the
dark, seeking thee, O Palinurus, carrying dreams of bale to thee who
dreamt not of harm, and lit on the high stern, a god in Phorbas'
likeness, dropping this speech from his lips: 'Palinurus son of Iasus,
the very seas bear our fleet along; the breezes breathe steadily; for an
hour rest is given. Lay down thine head, and steal thy worn eyes from
their toil. I myself for a little will take thy duty in thy stead. ' To
whom Palinurus, scarcely lifting his eyes, returns: 'Wouldst thou have
me ignorant what the calm face of the brine means, and the waves at
rest? Shall I have faith in this perilous thing? How shall I trust
Aeneas to deceitful breezes, and the placid treachery of sky that hath
so often deceived me? ' Such words he uttered, and, clinging fast to the
tiller, slackened hold no whit, and looked up steadily on the stars. Lo!
the god shakes over either temple a bough dripping with Lethean dew and
made slumberous with the might of Styx, and makes his swimming eyes
relax their struggles. Scarcely had sleep begun to slacken his limbs
unaware, when bending down, he flung him sheer into the clear water,
tearing rudder and half the stern away with him, and many a time crying
vainly on his comrades: himself [861-871]he rose on flying wings into
the thin air. None the less does the fleet run safe on its sea path, and
glides on unalarmed in lord Neptune's assurance. Yes, and now they were
sailing in to the cliffs of the Sirens, dangerous once of old and white
with the bones of many a man; and the hoarse rocks echoed afar in the
ceaseless surf; when her lord felt the ship rocking astray for loss of
her helmsman, and himself steered her on over the darkling water,
sighing often the while, and heavy at heart for his friend's mischance.
'Ah too trustful in sky's and sea's serenity, thou shalt lie, O
Palinurus, naked on an alien sand! '




BOOK SIXTH

THE VISION OF THE UNDER WORLD


So speaks he weeping, and gives his fleet the rein, and at last glides
in to Euboic Cumae's coast. They turn the prows seaward; the ships
grounded fast on their anchors' teeth, and the curving ships line the
beach. The warrior band leaps forth eagerly on the Hesperian shore; some
seek the seeds of flame hidden in veins of flint, some scour the woods,
the thick coverts of wild beasts, and find and shew the streams. But
good Aeneas seeks the fortress where Apollo sits high enthroned, and the
lone mystery of the awful Sibyl's cavern depth, over whose mind and soul
the prophetic Delian breathes high inspiration and reveals futurity.

Now they draw nigh the groves of Trivia and the roof of gold. Daedalus,
as the story runs, when in flight from Minos' realm he dared to spread
his fleet wings to the sky, glided on his unwonted way towards the icy
northern star, and at length lit gently on the Chalcidian fastness.
Here, on the first land he retrod, he dedicated his winged oarage to
thee, O Phoebus, in the vast temple he built. On the doors is Androgeus'
death; thereby the children of Cecrops, bidden, ah me! to pay for yearly
ransom seven souls of their sons; the urn stands there, and the lots are
drawn. Right [23-55]opposite the land of Gnosus rises from the sea; on
it is the cruel love of the bull, the disguised stealth of Pasiphae, and
the mingled breed and double issue of the Minotaur, record of a shameful
passion; on it the famous dwelling's laborious inextricable maze; but
Daedalus, pitying the great love of the princess, himself unlocked the
tangled treachery of the palace, guiding with the clue her lover's blind
footsteps. Thou too hadst no slight part in the work he wrought, O
Icarus, did grief allow. Twice had he essayed to portray thy fate in
gold; twice the father's hands dropped down. Nay, their eyes would scan
all the story in order, were not Achates already returned from his
errand, and with him the priestess of Phoebus and Trivia, Deiphobe
daughter of Glaucus, who thus accosts the king: 'Other than this are the
sights the time demands: now were it well to sacrifice seven unbroken
bullocks of the herd, as many fitly chosen sheep of two years old. ' Thus
speaks she to Aeneas; nor do they delay to do her sacred bidding; and
the priestess calls the Teucrians into the lofty shrine.

A vast cavern is scooped in the side of the Euboic cliff, whither lead
an hundred wide passages by an hundred gates, whence peal forth as
manifold the responses of the Sibyl. They had reached the threshold,
when the maiden cries: _It is time to enquire thy fate: the god, lo! the
god! _ And even as she spoke thus in the gateway, suddenly countenance
nor colour nor ranged tresses stayed the same; her wild heart heaves
madly in her panting bosom; and she expands to sight, and her voice is
more than mortal, now the god breathes on her in nearer deity.
'Lingerest thou to vow and pray,' she cries, 'Aeneas of Troy? lingerest
thou? for not till then will the vast portals of the spellbound house
swing open. ' So spoke she, and sank to silence. A cold shiver ran
through the Teucrians' iron frames, and the king pours heart-deep
supplication:

[56-89]'Phoebus, who hast ever pitied the sore travail of Troy, who
didst guide the Dardanian shaft from Paris' hand full on the son of
Aeacus, in thy leading have I pierced all these seas that skirt mighty
lands, the Massylian nations far withdrawn, and the fields the Syrtes
fringe; thus far let the fortune of Troy follow us. You too may now
unforbidden spare the nation of Pergama, gods and goddesses to
whomsoever Ilium and the great glory of Dardania did wrong. And thou, O
prophetess most holy, foreknower of the future, grant (for no unearned
realm does my destiny claim) a resting-place in Latium to the Teucrians,
to their wandering gods and the storm-tossed deities of Troy. Then will
I ordain to Phoebus and Trivia a temple of solid marble, and festal days
in Phoebus' name. Thee likewise a mighty sanctuary awaits in our realm.
For here will I place thine oracles and the secrets of destiny uttered
to my people, and consecrate chosen men, O gracious one. Only commit not
thou thy verses to leaves, lest they fly disordered, the sport of
rushing winds; thyself utter them, I beseech thee. ' His lips made an end
of utterance.

But the prophetess, not yet tame to Phoebus' hand, rages fiercely in the
cavern, so she may shake the mighty godhead from her breast; so much the
more does he tire her maddened mouth and subdue her wild breast and
shape her to his pressure. And now the hundred mighty portals of the
house open of their own accord, and bring through the air the answer of
the soothsayer:

'O past at length with the great perils of the sea! though heavier yet
by land await thee, the Dardanians shall come to the realm of Lavinium;
relieve thy heart of this care; but not so shall they have joy of their
coming. Wars, grim wars I discern, and Tiber afoam with streams of
blood. A Simois shall not fail thee, a Xanthus, a Dorian camp; another
Achilles is already found for Latium, he too [90-123]goddess-born; nor
shall Juno's presence ever leave the Teucrians; while thou in thy need,
to what nations or what towns of Italy shalt thou not sue! Again is an
alien bride the source of all that Teucrian woe, again a foreign
marriage-chamber. . . . Yield not thou to distresses, but all the bolder
go forth to meet them, as thy fortune shall allow thee way. The path of
rescue, little as thou deemest it, shall first open from a Grecian
town. '

In such words the Sibyl of Cumae chants from the shrine her perplexing
terrors, echoing through the cavern truth wrapped in obscurity: so does
Apollo clash the reins and ply the goad in her maddened breast. So soon
as the spasm ceased and the raving lips sank to silence, Aeneas the hero
begins: 'No shape of toil, O maiden, rises strange or sudden on my
sight; all this ere now have I guessed and inly rehearsed in spirit. One
thing I pray; since here is the gate named of the infernal king, and the
darkling marsh of Acheron's overflow, be it given me to go to my beloved
father, to see him face to face; teach thou the way, and open the
consecrated portals. Him on these shoulders I rescued from encircling
flames and a thousand pursuing weapons, and brought him safe from amid
the enemy; he accompanied my way over all the seas, and bore with me all
the threats of ocean and sky, in weakness, beyond his age's strength and
due. Nay, he it was who besought and enjoined me to seek thy grace and
draw nigh thy courts. Have pity, I beseech thee, on son and father, O
gracious one! for thou art all-powerful, nor in vain hath Hecate given
thee rule in the groves of Avernus. If Orpheus could call up his wife's
ghost in the strength of his Thracian lyre and the music of the
strings,--if Pollux redeemed his brother by exchange of death, and
passes and repasses so often,--why make mention of great Theseus, why of
Alcides? I too am of Jove's sovereign race. '

[124-157]In such words he pleaded and clasped the altars; when the
soothsayer thus began to speak:

'O sprung of gods' blood, child of Anchises of Troy, easy is the descent
into hell; all night and day the gate of dark Dis stands open; but to
recall thy steps and issue to upper air, this is the task and burden.
Some few of gods' lineage have availed, such as Jupiter's gracious
favour or virtue's ardour hath upborne to heaven. Midway all is muffled
in forest, and the black coils of Cocytus circle it round. Yet if thy
soul is so passionate and so desirous twice to float across the Stygian
lake, twice to see dark Tartarus, and thy pleasure is to plunge into the
mad task, learn what must first be accomplished. Hidden in a shady tree
is a bough with leafage and pliant shoot all of gold, consecrate to
nether Juno, wrapped in the depth of woodland and shut in by dim dusky
vales. But to him only who first hath plucked the golden-tressed
fruitage from the tree is it given to enter the hidden places of the
earth. This hath beautiful Proserpine ordained to be borne to her for
her proper gift. The first torn away, a second fills the place in gold,
and the spray burgeons with even such ore again. So let thine eyes trace
it home, and thine hand pluck it duly when found; for lightly and
unreluctant will it follow if thine is fate's summons; else will no
strength of thine avail to conquer it nor hard steel to cut it away. Yet
again, a friend of thine lies a lifeless corpse, alas! thou knowest it
not, and defiles all the fleet with death, while thou seekest our
counsel and lingerest in our courts. First lay him in his resting-place
and hide him in the tomb; lead thither black cattle; be this first thine
expiation; so at last shalt thou behold the Stygian groves and the realm
untrodden of the living. ' She spoke, and her lips shut to silence.

Aeneas goes forth, and leaves the cavern with fixed eyes and sad
countenance, his soul revolving inly the unseen [158-194]issues. By his
side goes faithful Achates, and plants his footsteps in equal
perplexity. Long they ran on in mutual change of talk; of what lifeless
comrade spoke the soothsayer, of what body for burial? And even as they
came, they see on the dry beach Misenus cut off by untimely death,
Misenus the Aeolid, excelled of none other in stirring men with brazen
breath and kindling battle with his trumpet-note.
He had been attendant
on mighty Hector; in Hector's train he waged battle, renowned alike for
bugle and spear: after victorious Achilles robbed him of life the
valiant hero had joined Dardanian Aeneas' company, and followed no
meaner leader. But now, while he makes his hollow shell echo over the
seas, ah fool! and calls the gods to rival his blast, jealous Triton, if
belief is due, had caught him among the rocks and sunk him in the
foaming waves. So all surrounded him with loud murmur and cries, good
Aeneas the foremost. Then weeping they quickly hasten on the Sibyl's
orders, and work hard to pile trees for the altar of burial, and heap it
up into the sky. They move into the ancient forest, the deep coverts of
game; pitch-pines fall flat, ilex rings to the stroke of axes, and ashen
beams and oak are split in clefts with wedges; they roll in huge
mountain-ashes from the hills. Aeneas likewise is first in the work, and
cheers on his crew and arms himself with their weapons. And alone with
his sad heart he ponders it all, gazing on the endless forest, and
utters this prayer: 'If but now that bough of gold would shew itself to
us on the tree in this depth of woodland! since all the soothsayer's
tale of thee, Misenus, was, alas! too truly spoken. ' Scarcely had he
said thus, when twin doves haply came flying down the sky, and lit on
the green sod right under his eyes. Then the kingly hero knows them for
his mother's birds, and joyfully prays: 'Ah, be my guides, if way there
be, and direct your aery passage into the groves [195-230]where the
rich bough overshadows the fertile ground! and thou, O goddess mother,
fail not our wavering fortune. ' So spoke he and stayed his steps,
marking what they signify, whither they urge their way. Feeding and
flying they advance at such distance as following eyes could keep them
in view; then, when they came to Avernus' pestilent gorge, they tower
swiftly, and sliding down through the liquid air, choose their seat and
light side by side on a tree, through whose boughs shone out the
contrasting flicker of gold. As in chill mid-winter the woodland is wont
to blossom with the strange leafage of the mistletoe, sown on an alien
tree and wreathing the smooth stems with burgeoning saffron; so on the
shadowy ilex seemed that leafy gold, so the foil tinkled in the light
breeze. Immediately Aeneas seizes it and eagerly breaks off its
resistance, and carries it beneath the Sibyl's roof.

And therewithal the Teucrians on the beach wept Misenus, and bore the
last rites to the thankless ashes. First they build up a vast pyre of
resinous billets and sawn oak, whose sides they entwine with dark leaves
and plant funereal cypresses in front, and adorn it above with his
shining armour. Some prepare warm water in cauldrons bubbling over the
flames, and wash and anoint the chill body, and make their moan; then,
their weeping done, lay his limbs on the pillow, and spread over it
crimson raiment, the accustomed pall. Some uplift the heavy bier, a
melancholy service, and with averted faces in their ancestral fashion
hold and thrust in the torch. Gifts of frankincense, food, and bowls of
olive oil, are poured and piled upon the fire. After the embers sank in
and the flame died away, they soaked with wine the remnant of thirsty
ashes, and Corynaeus gathered the bones and shut them in an urn of
brass; and he too thrice encircled his comrades with fresh water, and
cleansed them with light spray sprinkled from a [231-267]bough of
fruitful olive, and spoke the last words of all. But good Aeneas heaps a
mighty mounded tomb over him, with his own armour and his oar and
trumpet, beneath a skyey mountain that now is called Misenus after him,
and keeps his name immortal from age to age.

This done, he hastens to fulfil the Sibyl's ordinance. A deep cave
yawned dreary and vast, shingle-strewn, sheltered by the black lake and
the gloom of the forests; over it no flying things could wing their way
unharmed, such a vapour streamed from the dark gorge and rose into the
overarching sky. Here the priestess first arrays four black-bodied
bullocks and pours wine upon their forehead; and plucking the topmost
hairs from between the horns, lays them on the sacred fire for
first-offering, calling aloud on Hecate, mistress of heaven and hell.
Others lay knives beneath, and catch the warm blood in cups. Aeneas
himself smites with the sword a black-fleeced she-lamb to the mother of
the Eumenides and her mighty sister, and a barren heifer, Proserpine, to
thee. Then he uprears darkling altars to the Stygian king, and lays
whole carcases of bulls upon the flames, pouring fat oil over the
blazing entrails. And lo! about the first rays of sunrise the ground
moaned underfoot, and the woodland ridges began to stir, and dogs seemed
to howl through the dusk as the goddess came. 'Apart, ah keep apart, O
ye unsanctified! ' cries the soothsayer; 'retire from all the grove; and
thou, stride on and unsheath thy steel; now is need of courage, O
Aeneas, now of strong resolve. ' So much she spoke, and plunged madly
into the cavern's opening; he with unflinching steps keeps pace with his
advancing guide.

Gods who are sovereign over souls! silent ghosts, and Chaos and
Phlegethon, the wide dumb realm of night! as I have heard, so let me
tell, and according to your will unfold things sunken deep under earth
in gloom.

[268-303]They went darkling through the dusk beneath the solitary
night, through the empty dwellings and bodiless realm of Dis; even as
one walks in the forest beneath the jealous light of a doubtful moon,
when Jupiter shrouds the sky in shadow and black night blots out the
world. Right in front of the doorway and in the entry of the jaws of
hell Grief and avenging Cares have made their bed; there dwell wan
Sicknesses and gloomy Eld, and Fear, and ill-counselling Hunger, and
loathly Want, shapes terrible to see; and Death and Travail, and thereby
Sleep, Death's kinsman, and the Soul's guilty Joys, and death-dealing
War full in the gateway, and the Furies in their iron cells, and mad
Discord with bloodstained fillets enwreathing her serpent locks.

Midway an elm, shadowy and high, spreads her boughs and secular arms,
where, one saith, idle Dreams dwell clustering, and cling under every
leaf. And monstrous creatures besides, many and diverse, keep covert at
the gates, Centaurs and twy-shaped Scyllas, and the hundredfold
Briareus, and the beast of Lerna hissing horribly, and the Chimaera
armed with flame, Gorgons and Harpies, and the body of the triform
shade. Here Aeneas snatches at his sword in a sudden flutter of terror,
and turns the naked edge on them as they come; and did not his wise
fellow-passenger remind him that these lives flit thin and unessential
in the hollow mask of body, he would rush on and vainly lash through
phantoms with his steel.

Hence a road leads to Tartarus and Acheron's wave. Here the dreary pool
swirls thick in muddy eddies and disgorges into Cocytus with its load of
sand. Charon, the dread ferryman, guards these flowing streams, ragged
and awful, his chin covered with untrimmed masses of hoary hair, and his
glassy eyes aflame; his soiled raiment hangs knotted from his shoulders.
Himself he plies the pole and trims the sails of his vessel, the
steel-blue galley with freight [304-336]of dead; stricken now in years,
but a god's old age is lusty and green. Hither all crowded, and rushed
streaming to the bank, matrons and men and high-hearted heroes dead and
done with life, boys and unwedded girls, and children laid young on the
bier before their parents' eyes, multitudinous as leaves fall dropping
in the forests at autumn's earliest frost, or birds swarm landward from
the deep gulf, when the chill of the year routs them overseas and drives
them to sunny lands. They stood pleading for the first passage across,
and stretched forth passionate hands to the farther shore. But the grim
sailor admits now one and now another, while some he pushes back far
apart on the strand. Moved with marvel at the confused throng: 'Say, O
maiden,' cries Aeneas, 'what means this flocking to the river? of what
are the souls so fain? or what difference makes these retire from the
banks, those go with sweeping oars over the leaden waterways? '

To him the long-lived priestess thus briefly returned: 'Seed of
Anchises, most sure progeny of gods, thou seest the deep pools of
Cocytus and the Stygian marsh, by whose divinity the gods fear to swear
falsely. All this crowd thou discernest is helpless and unsepultured;
Charon is the ferryman; they who ride on the wave found a tomb. Nor is
it given to cross the awful banks and hoarse streams ere the dust hath
found a resting-place. An hundred years they wander here flitting about
the shore; then at last they gain entrance, and revisit the pools so
sorely desired. '

Anchises' son stood still, and ponderingly stayed his footsteps, pitying
at heart their cruel lot. There he discerns, mournful and unhonoured
dead, Leucaspis and Orontes, captains of the Lycian squadron, whom, as
they sailed together from Troy over gusty seas, the south wind
overwhelmed and wrapped the waters round ship and men.

[337-369]Lo, there went by Palinurus the steersman, who of late, while
he watched the stars on their Libyan passage, had slipped from the stern
and fallen amid the waves. To him, when he first knew the melancholy
form in that depth of shade, he thus opens speech: 'What god, O
Palinurus, reft thee from us and sank thee amid the seas? forth and
tell. For in this single answer Apollo deceived me, never found false
before, when he prophesied thee safety on ocean and arrival on the
Ausonian coasts. See, is this his promise-keeping? '

And he: 'Neither did Phoebus on his oracular seat delude thee, O prince,
Anchises' son, nor did any god drown me in the sea. For while I clung to
my appointed charge and governed our course, I pulled the tiller with me
in my fall, and the shock as I slipped wrenched it away. By the rough
seas I swear, fear for myself never wrung me so sore as for thy ship,
lest, the rudder lost and the pilot struck away, those gathering waves
might master it. Three wintry nights in the water the blustering south
drove me over the endless sea; scarcely on the fourth dawn I descried
Italy as I rose on the climbing wave. Little by little I swam shoreward;
already I clung safe; but while, encumbered with my dripping raiment, I
caught with crooked fingers at the jagged needles of mountain rock, the
barbarous people attacked me in arms and ignorantly deemed me a prize.
Now the wave holds me, and the winds toss me on the shore. By heaven's
pleasant light and breezes I beseech thee, by thy father, by Iulus thy
rising hope, rescue me from these distresses, O unconquered one! Either
do thou, for thou canst, cast earth over me and again seek the haven of
Velia; or do thou, if in any wise that may be, if in any wise the
goddess who bore thee shews a way,--for not without divine will do I
deem thou wilt float across these vast rivers and the Stygian
pool,--lend me a pitying [370-403]hand, and bear me over the waves in
thy company, that at least in death I may find a quiet resting-place. '

Thus he ended, and the soothsayer thus began: 'Whence, O Palinurus, this
fierce longing of thine? Shalt thou without burial behold the Stygian
waters and the awful river of the Furies? Cease to hope prayers may bend
the decrees of heaven. But take my words to thy memory, for comfort in
thy woeful case: far and wide shall the bordering cities be driven by
celestial portents to appease thy dust; they shall rear a tomb, and pay
the tomb a yearly offering, and for evermore shall the place keep
Palinurus' name. ' The words soothed away his distress, and for a while
drove grief away from his sorrowing heart; he is glad in the land of his
name.

So they complete their journey's beginning, and draw nigh the river.
Just then the waterman descried them from the Stygian wave advancing
through the silent woodland and turning their feet towards the bank, and
opens on them in these words of challenge: 'Whoso thou art who marchest
in arms towards our river, forth and say, there as thou art, why thou
comest, and stay thine advance. This is the land of Shadows, of Sleep,
and slumberous Night; no living body may the Stygian hull convey. Nor
truly had I joy of taking Alcides on the lake for passenger, nor Theseus
and Pirithous, born of gods though they were and unconquered in might.
He laid fettering hand on the warder of Tartarus, and dragged him
cowering from the throne of my lord the King; they essayed to ravish our
mistress from the bridal chamber of Dis. ' Thereto the Amphrysian
soothsayer made brief reply: 'No such plot is here; be not moved; nor do
our weapons offer violence; the huge gatekeeper may bark on for ever in
his cavern and affright the bloodless ghosts; Proserpine may keep her
honour within her uncle's gates. Aeneas of Troy, renowned [404-437]in
goodness as in arms, goes down to meet his father in the deep shades of
Erebus. If the sight of such affection stirs thee in nowise, yet this
bough' (she discovers the bough hidden in her raiment) 'thou must know. '
Then his heaving breast allays its anger, and he says no more; but
marvelling at the awful gift, the fated rod so long unseen, he steers in
his dusky vessel and draws to shore. Next he routs out the souls that
sate on the long benches, and clears the thwarts, while he takes mighty
Aeneas on board. The galley groaned under the weight in all her seams,
and the marsh-water leaked fast in. At length prophetess and prince are
landed unscathed on the ugly ooze and livid sedge.

This realm rings with the triple-throated baying of vast Cerberus,
couched huge in the cavern opposite; to whom the prophetess, seeing the
serpents already bristling up on his neck, throws a cake made slumberous
with honey and drugged grain. He, with threefold jaws gaping in ravenous
hunger, catches it when thrown, and sinks to earth with monstrous body
outstretched, and sprawling huge over all his den. The warder
overwhelmed, Aeneas makes entrance, and quickly issues from the bank of
the irremeable wave.

Immediately wailing voices are loud in their ears, the souls of babies
crying on the doorway sill, whom, torn from the breast and portionless
in life's sweetness, a dark day cut off and drowned in bitter death.
Hard by them are those condemned to death on false accusation. Neither
indeed are these dwellings assigned without lot and judgment; Minos
presides and shakes the urn; he summons a council of the silent people,
and inquires of their lives and charges. Next in order have these
mourners their place whose own innocent hands dealt them death, who
flung away their souls in hatred of the day. How fain were they now in
upper air to endure their poverty and [438-472]sore travail! It may not
be; the unlovely pool locks them in her gloomy wave, and Styx pours her
ninefold barrier between. And not far from here are shewn stretching on
every side the Wailing Fields; so they call them by name. Here they whom
pitiless love hath wasted in cruel decay hide among untrodden ways,
shrouded in embosoming myrtle thickets; not death itself ends their
distresses. In this region he discerns Phaedra and Procris and woeful
Eriphyle, shewing on her the wounds of her merciless son, and Evadne and
Pasiphae; Laodamia goes in their company, and she who was once Caeneus
and a man, now woman, and again returned by fate into her shape of old.
Among whom Dido the Phoenician, fresh from her death-wound, wandered in
the vast forest; by her the Trojan hero stood, and knew the dim form
through the darkness, even as the moon at the month's beginning to him
who sees or thinks he sees her rising through the vapours; he let tears
fall, and spoke to her lovingly and sweet:

'Alas, Dido! so the news was true that reached me; thou didst perish,
and the sword sealed thy doom! Ah me, was I cause of thy death? By the
stars I swear, by the heavenly powers and all that is sacred beneath the
earth, unwillingly, O queen, I left thy shore. But the gods, at whose
orders now I pass through this shadowy place, this land of mouldering
overgrowth and deep night, the gods' commands drove me forth; nor could
I deem my departure would bring thee pain so great as this. Stay thy
footstep, and withdraw not from our gaze. From whom fliest thou? the
last speech of thee fate ordains me is this. '

In such words and with starting tears Aeneas soothed the burning and
fierce-eyed soul. She turned away with looks fixed fast on the ground,
stirred no more in countenance by the speech he essays than if she stood
in iron flint or Marpesian stone. At length she started, and fled
wrathfully [473-508]into the shadowy woodland, where Sychaeus, her
ancient husband, responds to her distresses and equals her affection.
Yet Aeneas, dismayed by her cruel doom, follows her far on her way with
pitying tears.

Thence he pursues his appointed path. And now they trod those utmost
fields where the renowned in war have their haunt apart. Here Tydeus
meets him; here Parthenopaeus, glorious in arms, and the pallid phantom
of Adrastus; here the Dardanians long wept on earth and fallen in the
war; sighing he discerns all their long array, Glaucus and Medon and
Thersilochus, the three children of Antenor, and Polyphoetes, Ceres'
priest, and Idaeus yet charioted, yet grasping his arms. The souls
throng round him to right and left; nor is one look enough; lingering
delighted, they pace by his side and enquire wherefore he is come. But
the princes of the Grecians and Agamemnon's armies, when they see him
glittering in arms through the gloom, hurry terror-stricken away; some
turn backward, as when of old they fled to the ships; some raise their
voice faintly, and gasp out a broken ineffectual cry.

And here he saw Deiphobus son of Priam, with face cruelly torn, face and
both hands, and ears lopped from his mangled temples, and nostrils
maimed by a shameful wound. Barely he knew the cowering form that hid
its dreadful punishment; then he springs to accost it in familiar
speech:

'Deiphobus mighty in arms, seed of Teucer's royal blood, whose
wantonness of vengeance was so cruel? who was allowed to use thee thus?
Rumour reached me that on that last night, outwearied with endless
slaughter, thou hadst sunk on the heap of mingled carnage. Then mine own
hand reared an empty tomb on the Rhoetean shore, mine own voice thrice
called aloud upon thy ghost. Thy name and armour keep the spot; thee, O
my friend, I could not see nor lay in the native earth I left. '

[509-541]Whereto the son of Priam: 'In nothing, O my friend, wert thou
wanting; thou hast paid the full to Deiphobus and the dead man's shade.
But me my fate and the Laconian woman's murderous guilt thus dragged
down to doom; these are the records of her leaving. For how we spent
that last night in delusive gladness thou knowest, and must needs
remember too well. When the fated horse leapt down on the steep towers
of Troy, bearing armed infantry for the burden of its womb, she, in
feigned procession, led round our Phrygian women with Bacchic cries;
herself she upreared a mighty flame amid them, and called the Grecians
out of the fortress height. Then was I fast in mine ill-fated bridal
chamber, deep asleep and outworn with my charge, and lay overwhelmed in
slumber sweet and profound and most like to easeful death. Meanwhile
that crown of wives removes all the arms from my dwelling, and slips out
the faithful sword from beneath my head: she calls Menelaus into the
house and flings wide the gateway: be sure she hoped her lover would
magnify the gift, and so she might quench the fame of her ill deeds of
old. Why do I linger? They burst into the chamber, they and the Aeolid,
counsellor of crime, in their company. Gods, recompense the Greeks even
thus, if with righteous lips I call for vengeance! But come, tell in
turn what hap hath brought thee hither yet alive. Comest thou driven on
ocean wanderings, or by promptings from heaven? or what fortune keeps
thee from rest, that thou shouldst draw nigh these sad sunless
dwellings, this disordered land? '

In this change of talk Dawn had already crossed heaven's mid axle on her
rose-charioted way; and haply had they thus drawn out all the allotted
time; but the Sibyl made brief warning speech to her companion: 'Night
falls, Aeneas; we waste the hours in weeping. Here is the place where
the road disparts; by this that runs to the right [542-574]under great
Dis' city is our path to Elysium; but the leftward wreaks vengeance on
the wicked and sends them to unrelenting hell. ' But Deiphobus: 'Be not
angered, mighty priestess; I will depart, I will refill my place and
return into darkness. Go, glory of our people, go, enjoy a fairer fate
than mine. ' Thus much he spoke, and on the word turned away his
footsteps.

Aeneas looks swiftly back, and sees beneath the cliff on the left hand a
wide city, girt with a triple wall and encircled by a racing river of
boiling flame, Tartarean Phlegethon, that echoes over its rolling rocks.
In front is the gate, huge and pillared with solid adamant, that no
warring force of men nor the very habitants of heaven may avail to
overthrow; it stands up a tower of iron, and Tisiphone sitting girt in
bloodstained pall keeps sleepless watch at the entry by night and day.
Hence moans are heard and fierce lashes resound, with the clank of iron
and dragging chains. Aeneas stopped and hung dismayed at the tumult.
'What shapes of crime are here? declare, O maiden; or what the
punishment that pursues them, and all this upsurging wail? ' Then the
soothsayer thus began to speak: 'Illustrious chief of Troy, no pure foot
may tread these guilty courts; but to me Hecate herself, when she gave
me rule over the groves of Avernus, taught how the gods punish, and
guided me through all her realm. Gnosian Rhadamanthus here holds
unrelaxing sway, chastises secret crime revealed, and exacts confession,
wheresoever in the upper world one vainly exultant in stolen guilt hath
till the dusk of death kept clear from the evil he wrought. Straightway
avenging Tisiphone, girt with her scourge, tramples down the shivering
sinners, menaces them with the grim snakes in her left hand, and summons
forth her sisters in merciless train. Then at last the sacred gates are
flung open and grate on the jarring hinge. Markest thou what sentry is
seated in [575-609]the doorway? what shape guards the threshold? More
grim within sits the monstrous Hydra with her fifty black yawning
throats: and Tartarus' self gapes sheer and strikes into the gloom
through twice the space that one looks upward to Olympus and the skyey
heaven. Here Earth's ancient children, the Titans' brood, hurled down by
the thunderbolt, lie wallowing in the abyss. Here likewise I saw the
twin Aloids, enormous of frame, who essayed with violent hands to pluck
down high heaven and thrust Jove from his upper realm. Likewise I saw
Salmoneus in the cruel payment he gives for mocking Jove's flame and
Olympus' thunders. Borne by four horses and brandishing a torch, he rode
in triumph midway through the populous city of Grecian Elis, and claimed
for himself the worship of deity; madman! who would mimic the
storm-cloud and the inimitable bolt with brass that rang under his
trampling horse-hoofs. But the Lord omnipotent hurled his shaft through
thickening clouds (no firebrand his nor smoky glare of torches) and
dashed him headlong in the fury of the whirlwind. Therewithal Tityos
might be seen, fosterling of Earth the mother of all, whose body
stretches over nine full acres, and a monstrous vulture with crooked
beak eats away the imperishable liver and the entrails that breed in
suffering, and plunges deep into the breast that gives it food and
dwelling; nor is any rest given to the fibres that ever grow anew. Why
tell of the Lapithae, of Ixion and Pirithous? over whom a stone hangs
just slipping and just as though it fell; or the high banqueting couches
gleam golden-pillared, and the feast is spread in royal luxury before
their faces; couched hard by, the eldest of the Furies wards the tables
from their touch and rises with torch upreared and thunderous lips. Here
are they who hated their brethren while life endured, or struck a parent
or entangled a client in wrong, or who brooded [610-643]alone over
found treasure and shared it not with their fellows, this the greatest
multitude of all; and they who were slain for adultery, and who followed
unrighteous arms, and feared not to betray their masters' plighted hand.
Imprisoned they await their doom. Seek not to be told that doom, that
fashion of fortune wherein they are sunk. Some roll a vast stone, or
hang outstretched on the spokes of wheels; hapless Theseus sits and
shall sit for ever, and Phlegyas in his misery gives counsel to all and
witnesses aloud through the gloom, _Learn by this warning to do justly
and not to slight the gods. _ This man sold his country for gold, and
laid her under a tyrant's sway; he set up and pulled down laws at a
price; this other forced his daughter's bridal chamber and a forbidden
marriage; all dared some monstrous wickedness, and had success in what
they dared. Not had I an hundred tongues, an hundred mouths, and a voice
of iron, could I sum up all the shapes of crime or name over all their
punishments. '

Thus spoke Phoebus' long-lived priestess; then 'But come now,' she
cries; 'haste on the way and perfect the service begun; let us go
faster; I descry the ramparts cast in Cyclopean furnaces, and in front
the arched gateway where they bid us lay the gifts foreordained. ' She
ended, and advancing side by side along the shadowy ways, they pass over
and draw nigh the gates. Aeneas makes entrance, and sprinkling his body
with fresh water, plants the bough full in the gateway.

Now at length, this fully done, and the service of the goddess
perfected, they came to the happy place, the green pleasances and
blissful seats of the Fortunate Woodlands. Here an ampler air clothes
the meadows in lustrous sheen, and they know their own sun and a
starlight of their own. Some exercise their limbs in tournament on the
greensward, contend in games, and wrestle on the yellow sand. Some
[644-676]dance with beating footfall and lips that sing; with them is
the Thracian priest in sweeping robe, and makes music to their measures
with the notes' sevenfold interval, the notes struck now with his
fingers, now with his ivory rod. Here is Teucer's ancient brood, a
generation excellent in beauty, high-hearted heroes born in happier
years, Ilus and Assaracus, and Dardanus, founder of Troy. Afar he
marvels at the armour and chariots empty of their lords: their spears
stand fixed in the ground, and their unyoked horses pasture at large
over the plain: their life's delight in chariot and armour, their care
in pasturing their sleek horses, follows them in like wise low under
earth. Others, lo! he beholds feasting on the sward to right and left,
and singing in chorus the glad Paean-cry, within a scented laurel-grove
whence Eridanus river surges upward full-volumed through the wood. Here
is the band of them who bore wounds in fighting for their country, and
they who were pure in priesthood while life endured, and the good poets
whose speech abased not Apollo; and they who made life beautiful by the
arts of their invention, and who won by service a memory among men, the
brows of all girt with the snow-white fillet. To their encircling throng
the Sibyl spoke thus, and to Musaeus before them all; for he is midmost
of all the multitude, and stands out head and shoulders among their
upward gaze:

'Tell, O blissful souls, and thou, poet most gracious, what region, what
place hath Anchises for his own? For his sake are we come, and have
sailed across the wide rivers of Erebus. '

And to her the hero thus made brief reply: 'None hath a fixed dwelling;
we live in the shady woodlands; soft-swelling banks and meadows fresh
with streams are our habitation. But you, if this be your heart's
desire, scale this ridge, and I will even now set you on an easy
[677-708]pathway. ' He spoke, and paced on before them, and from above
shews the shining plains; thereafter they leave the mountain heights.

But lord Anchises, deep in the green valley, was musing in earnest
survey over the imprisoned souls destined to the daylight above, and
haply reviewing his beloved children and all the tale of his people,
them and their fates and fortunes, their works and ways. And he, when he
saw Aeneas advancing to meet him over the greensward, stretched forth
both hands eagerly, while tears rolled over his cheeks, and his lips
parted in a cry: 'Art thou come at last, and hath thy love, O child of
my desire, conquered the difficult road? Is it granted, O my son, to
gaze on thy face and hear and answer in familiar tones? Thus indeed I
forecast in spirit, counting the days between; nor hath my care misled
me. What lands, what space of seas hast thou traversed to reach me,
through what surge of perils, O my son! How I dreaded the realm of Libya
might work thee harm! '

And he: 'Thy melancholy phantom, thine, O my father, came before me
often and often, and drove me to steer to these portals. My fleet is
anchored on the Tyrrhenian brine. Give thine hand to clasp, O my father,
give it, and withdraw not from our embrace. '

So spoke he, his face wet with abundant weeping. Thrice there did he
essay to fling his arms about his neck; thrice the phantom vainly
grasped fled out of his hands even as light wind, and most like to
fluttering sleep.

Meanwhile Aeneas sees deep withdrawn in the covert of the vale a
woodland and rustling forest thickets, and the river of Lethe that
floats past their peaceful dwellings. Around it flitted nations and
peoples innumerable; even as in the meadows when in clear summer weather
bees settle on the variegated flowers and stream round the snow-white
[709-742]lilies, all the plain is murmurous with their humming. Aeneas
starts at the sudden view, and asks the reason he knows not; what are
those spreading streams, or who are they whose vast train fills the
banks? Then lord Anchises: 'Souls, for whom second bodies are destined
and due, drink at the wave of the Lethean stream the heedless water of
long forgetfulness.