Imogen was no sooner left alone than she recollected the cordial Pisanio had given her, and drank it off, and presently fell into a sound and deathlike sleep. When Bellarius and her brothers returned from hunting, Polydore went first into the cave, and, supposing her asleep, pulled off his heavy shoes, that he might tread softly and not awake her (so did true gentleness spring up in the minds of these princely foresters); but he soon discovered that she could not be awakened by any noise, and concluded her to be dead, and Polydore lamented over her with dear and brotherly regret, as if they had never from their infancy been parted. Bellarius also proposed to carry her out into the forest, and there celebrate her funeral with songs and solemn dirges, as was then the custom. Imogen’s two brothers then carried her to a shady covert, and there, laying her gently on the grass, they sang repose to her departed spirit, and, covering her over with leaves and flowers, Polydore said: “While summer lasts and I live here, Fidele, I will daily strew thy grave. The pale primrose, that flower most like thy face; the bluebell, like thy clear veins; and the leaf of eglantine, which is not sweeter than was thy breath-all these will I strew over thee. Yea, and the furred moss in winter, when there are no flowers to cover thy sweet corse.” When they had finished her funeral obsequies they departed, very sorrowful. Imogen had not been long left alone when, the effect of the sleepy drug going off, she awaked, and easily shaking off the slight covering of leaves and flowers they had thrown over her, she arose, and, imagining she had been dreaming, she said: “I thought I was a cave-keeper and cook to honest creatures. How came I here covered with flowers?” Not being able to find her way back to the cave, and seeing nothing of her new companions, she concluded it was certainly all a dream; and once more Imogen set out on her weary pilgrimage, hoping at last she should find her way to Milford Haven, and thence get a passage in some ship bound for Italy; for all her thoughts were still with her husband, Posthumus, whom she intended to seek in the disguise of a page. But great events were happening at this time, of which Imogen knew nothing; for a war had suddenly broken out between the Roman Emperor Augustus Caesar and Cymbeline, the King of Britain; and a Roman army had landed to invade Britain, and was advanced into the very forest over which Imogen was journeying. With this army came Posthumus. Though Posthumus came over to Britain with the Roman army, he did not mean to fight on their side against his own countrymen, but intended to join the army of Britain and fight in the cause of his king who had banished him.