Such were the words he prayed withal and round the altars clung: Then she fell speaking: "Man of Troy, from blood of Godhead grown, Anchises' child, Avernus' road is easy faring down; All day and night is open wide the door of Dis the black; But thence to gain the upper air, and win the footsteps back, This is the deed, this is the toil: Some few have had the might, Beloved by Jove the just, upborne to heaven by valour's light, 130 The Sons of God. 'Twixt it and us great thicket fills the place That slow Cocytus' mirky folds all round about embrace; But if such love be in thine heart, such yearning in thee lie, To swim twice o'er the Stygian mere and twice to see with eye Black Tartarus, and thou must needs this idle labour win, Hearken what first there is to do: the dusky tree within Lurks the gold bough with golden leaves and limber twigs of gold, To nether Juno consecrate; this all these woods enfold, Dim shadowy places cover it amid the hollow dale; To come unto the under-world none living may avail 140 Till he that growth of golden locks from off the tree hath shorn; For this fair Proserpine ordained should evermore be borne Her very gift: but, plucked away, still faileth not the thing, Another golden stem instead hath leafy tide of spring. So throughly search with eyes: thine hand aright upon it lay When thou hast found: for easily 'twill yield and come away If the Fates call thee: otherwise no might may overbear Its will, nor with the hardened steel the marvel mayst thou shear.