Might sing truth’s solid wisdom, and not one Prove more than shade in his comparison.᾿ This broke my heart; I sunk into my bed, Mourn’d, and would never more be comforted With light, nor life. But having now exprest My pains enough to her in my unrest, That so I might prepare her ruth, and get All I held fit for an affair so great, I said: ‘O Circe, who shall steer my course To Pluto’s kingdom? Never ship had force To make that voyage.’ The divine-in-voice Said; ‘Seek no guide, raise you your mast, and hoise Your ship’s white sails, and then sit yon at peace, The fresh North Spirit shall waft ye through the Seas. But, having past the ocean, you shall see A little shore, that to Persephoné Puts up a consecrated wood, where grows Tall firs, and sallows that their fruits soon lose. Cast anchor in the gulfs, and go alone To Pluto’s dark house, where, to Acheron Cocytus runs, and Pyriphlegethon, Cocytus born of Styx, and where a rock Of both the met floods bears the roaring shock. The dark heroë, great Tiresias, Now coming near, to gain propitious pass, Dig of a cubit ev’ry way a pit, And pour to all that are deceas’d in it A solemn sacrifice. For which, first take Honey and wine, and their commixtion make; Then sweet wine neat; and thirdly water pour; And lastly add to these the whitest flour. Then vow to all the weak necks of the dead Off’rings a number; and, when thou shalt tread The Ithacensian shore, to sacrifice A heifer never-tam’d, and most of prize, A pile of all thy most esteeméd goods Enflaming to the dear streams of their bloods; And, in secret rites, to Tiresias vow A ram coal-black at all parts, that doth flow With fat and fleece, and all thy flocks doth lead. When the all-calling nation of the dead[13] Thou thus hast pray’d to, offer on the place A ram and ewe all black being turn’d in face To dreadful Erebus, thyself aside The flood’s shore walking. And then, gratified With flocks of souls of men and dames deceas’d Shall all thy pious rites be. Straight address’d See then the off’ring that thy fellows slew, Flay’d, and impos’d in fire; and all thy crew Pray to the state of either Deity, Grave Pluto, and severe Persephoné. Then draw thy sword, stand firm, nor suffer one Of all the faint shades of the dead and gone T’ approach the blood, till thou hast heard their king, The wise Tiresias; who thy offering Will instantly do honour, thy home-ways, And all the measure of them by the seas, Amply unfolding.’ This the Goddess told; And then the Morning in her throne of gold Survey’d the vast world; by whose orient light The Nymph adorn’d me with attires as bright, Her own hands putting on both shirt and weed, Robes fine, and curious, and upon my head An ornament that glitter’d like a flame, Girt me in gold; and forth betimes I came Amongst my soldiers, rous’d them all from sleep, And bad them now no more observance keep Of ease, and feast, but straight a-shipboard fall, For now the Goddess had inform’d me all.