But the prophetess, not yet Phœbus’ willing slave, is storming with giant frenzy in her cavern, as though she hoped to unseat from her bosom the mighty god. All the more sharply he plies her mouth with his bit till its fury flags, tames her savage soul, and moulds her to his 25 will by strong constraint. And now the hundred mighty doors of the chamber have flown open of their own accord, and are wafting through the air the voice of prophecy: “O you whose vast perils by sea are over at length! but on land there are heavier yet in store. The sons of Dardanus 30 shall come to the realm of Lavinium—from this care set your mind at rest—but think not that they shall also have joy of their coming. War, savage war, and the Tiber foaming with surges of blood, is the vision I see. No lack for you of Simois, or Xanthus, or a Dorian[209] camp. 35 Another Achilles is reserved for Latium, he too goddess-born—nor will Juno ever be seen to quit her fastened hold on Troy—while you, a needy suppliant—what nation, what city in Italy will not have had you knocking at its gates! Once more will an alien bride bring on the Teucrians all this woe—once more a foreign bed. But you, yield not to affliction, but go forth all the bolder to meet it, so far as your destiny gives you leave. The first glimpse of 5 safety, little as you dream it, shall dawn on you from a Grecian town.” Such are the words with which Cumæ’s Sibyl from her cell shrills forth awful mysteries and booms again from the cavern, robing her truth in darkness—such the violence 10 with which Apollo shakes the bridle in her frenzied mouth and plies her bosom with his goad. Soon as her frenzy abated and the madness of her lips grew calm, Æneas the hero began: “No feature, awful maiden, that suffering can show rises on my sight new or unlooked-for—I have 15 foreseen all and scanned all in fancy already. I have but one prayer to make: since here it is that Fame tells of the gate of the infernal monarch, and the murky pool of Acheron’s overflow, grant me to pass to the sight, to the presence of my loved father—teach the way, and unlock 20 the sacred doors. Him I bore away through flames and a driving tempest of darts on these my shoulders and rescued him from the midst of the foe: he was the companion of my journey, and encountered with me all the waves of ocean, all the terrors of sea and sky in his own 25 feeble frame, beyond the strength and the day of old age. Nay more—that I would kneel to thee and approach thy dwelling—this was his charge, his oft-repeated prayer. Oh, of thy grace, pity the son and the sire; for thou art all-powerful, nor is it for nought that Hecate has set thee 30 over the groves of Avernus. If Orpheus had the power to