Then so began the seer to speak: "O glorious Teucrian lord, On wicked threshold of the place no righteous foot may stand: But when great Hecate made me Queen of that Avernus land, She taught me of God's punishments and led me down the path. --There Gnosian Rhadamanthus now most heavy lordship hath, And heareth lies, and punisheth, and maketh men confess Their deeds of earth, whereof made glad by foolish wickedness, They thrust the late repentance off till death drew nigh to grip: Those guilty drives Tisiphone, armed with avenging whip, 570 And mocks their writhings, casting forth her other dreadful hand Filled with the snakes, and crying on her cruel sister's band. And then at last on awful hinge loud-clanging opens wide The Door of Doom:--and lo, behold what door-ward doth abide Within the porch, what thing it is the city gate doth hold! More dreadful yet the Water-worm, with black mouth fiftyfold, Hath dwelling in the inner parts. Then Tartarus aright Gapes sheer adown; and twice so far it thrusteth under night As up unto the roof of heaven Olympus lifteth high: And there the ancient race of Earth, the Titan children, lie, 580 Cast down by thunder, wallowing in bottomless abode. There of the twin Aloidæ the monstrous bodies' load I saw; who fell on mighty heaven to cleave it with their hands, That they might pluck the Father Jove from out his glorious lands; And Salmoneus I saw withal, paying the cruel pain That fire of Jove and heaven's own voice on earth he needs must feign: He, drawn by fourfold rush of steeds, and shaking torches' glare, Amidmost of the Grecian folks, amidst of Elis fair, Went glorying, and the name of God and utter worship sought. O fool! the glory of the storm, and lightning like to nought, 590 He feigned with rattling copper things and beat of horny hoof. Him the Almighty Father smote from cloudy rack aloof, But never brand nor pitchy flame of smoky pine-tree cast, As headlong there he drave him down amid the whirling blast. And Tityon, too, the child of Earth, great Mother of all things, There may ye see: nine acres' space his mighty frame he flings; His deathless liver still is cropped by that huge vulture's beak That evermore his daily meat doth mid his inwards seek, Fruitful of woe, and hath his home beneath his mighty breast: Whose heart-strings eaten, and new-born shall never know of rest. 600 Of Lapithæ, Pirithoüs, Ixion, what a tale! O'er whom the black crag hangs, that slips, and slips, and ne'er shall fail To seem to fall. The golden feet of feast beds glitter bright, And there in manner of the kings is glorious banquet dight. But lo, the Furies' eldest-born is crouched beside it there, And banneth one and all of them hand on the board to bear,