Now the sun was dipped in Ocean and misty night scattering sleep had brought for mortals ease and leisure in her black two-horsed chariot; when Pluto, warned by his brother, made his way to the upper air. The dread fury Allecto yokes to the chariot-pole the two fierce pairs of steeds that grace Cocytus’ banks and roam the dark meads of Erebus, and, * * * * * Page 314 stagnaque tranquillae potantes marcida Lethes aegra soporatis spumant oblivia linguis: Orphnaeus crudele micans Aethonque sagitta ocior et Stygii sublimis gloria Nycteus 285 armenti Ditisque nota signatus Alastor. stabant ante fores iuncti saevumque fremebant crastina venturae spectantes gaudia praedae. LIBRI SECUNDI PRAEFATIO (XXXIV.) Otia sopitis ageret cum cantibus Orpheus neglectumque diu deposuisset opus, lugebant erepta sibi solacia Nymphae, quaerebant dulces flumina maesta modos. saeva feris natura redit metuensque leonem 5 implorat citharae vacca tacentis opem. illius et duri flevere silentia montes silvaque Bistoniam saepe secuta chelyn. Sed postquam Inachiis Alcides missus ab Argis Thracia pacifero contigit arva pede 10 diraque sanguinei vertit praesaepia regis et Diomedeos gramine pavit equos, tunc patriae festo laetatus tempore vates desuetae repetit fila canora lyrae * * * * * Page 315 drinking the rotting pools of sluggish Lethe, let dark oblivion drip from their slumbrous lips--Orphnaeus, savage and fleet, Aethon, swifter than an arrow, great Nyctaeus, proud glory of Hell’s steeds, and Alastor, branded with the mark of Dis. These stood harnessed before the door and savagely champed the bit all eager for the morrow’s enjoyment of their destined booty. BOOK II PREFACE (XXXIV.) When Orpheus sought repose and, lulling his song to sleep, had long laid aside his neglected task, the Nymphs complained that their joy had been reft from them and the sad rivers mourned the loss of his tuneful lays. Nature’s savagery returned and the heifer in terror of the lion looked in vain for help from the now voiceless lyre. The rugged mountains lamented his silence and the woods that had so often followed his Thracian lute. But after that Hercules, setting forth from Inachian Argos, reached the plains of Thrace on his mission of salvation, and destroying the stables of Diomede, fed the horses of the bloody tyrant on grass, then it was that the poet, o’erjoyed at his country’s happy fate, took up once more the tuneful strings of his lute long laid aside, and touching its * * * * * Page 316