Why name I Theseus, or his greater friend, Who trod the downward path, and upward could ascend? Not less than theirs, from Jove my lineage came; My mother greater, my descent the same." So prayed the Trojan prince, and, while he prayed, His hand upon the holy altar laid. Then thus replied the prophetess divine:-- "O goddess-born, of great Anchises' line! The gates of hell are open night and day; Smooth the descent, and easy is the way: But, to return, and view the cheerful skies-- In this the task and mighty labour lies. To few great Jupiter imparts this grace, And those of shining worth, and heavenly race. Betwixt those regions and our upper light, Deep forests and impenetrable night Possess the middle space: the infernal bounds Cocytus, with his sable waves, surrounds. But, if so dire a love your soul invades, As twice below to view the trembling shades; If you so hard a toil will undertake, As twice to pass the innavigable lake; Receive my counsel. In the neighbouring grove There stands a tree; the queen of Stygian Jove Claims it her own; thick woods and gloomy night Conceal the happy plant from human sight. One bough it bears; but (wonderous to behold!) The ductile rind and leaves of radiant gold: This from the vulgar branches must be torn, And to fair Proserpine the present borne, Ere leave be given to tempt the nether skies. } The first thus rent, a second will arise, } And the same metal the same room supplies. } Look round the wood, with lifted eyes, to see The lurking gold upon the fatal tree: Then rend it off, as holy rites command; The willing metal will obey thy hand, Following with ease, if, favoured by thy fate, Thou art foredoomed to view the Stygian state: If not, no labour can the tree constrain; And strength of stubborn arms, and steel, are vain. Besides, you know not, while you here attend, The unworthy fate of your unhappy friend: Breathless he lies; and his unburied ghost, Deprived of funeral rites, pollutes your host. Pay first his pious dues; and, for the dead, Two sable sheep around his hearse be led; Then, living turfs upon his body lay: } This done, securely take the destined way, } To find the regions destitute of day." } She said, and held her peace.--Æneas went } Sad from the cave, and full of discontent, } Unknowing whom the sacred Sibyl meant. } Achates, the companion of his breast, Goes grieving by his side, with equal cares oppressed. Walking, they talked, and fruitlessly divined, What friend the priestess by those words designed. But soon they found an object to deplore: Misenus lay extended on the shore-- Son of the god of winds:--none so renowned, The warrior trumpet in the field to sound,