Nor half the punishments those crimes have met. But let us haste our voyage to pursue: The walls of Pluto's palace are in view; The gate, and iron arch above it, stands, On anvils laboured by the Cyclops' hands. Before our farther way the Fates allow, Here must we fix on high the golden bow." She said: and through the gloomy shades they past, And chose the middle path.--Arrived at last, The prince, with living water, sprinkled o'er His limbs and body; then approached the door, Possessed the porch, and on the front above He fixed the fatal bough, required by Pluto's love. These holy rites performed, they took their way, Where long extended plains of pleasure lay; The verdant fields with those of heaven may vie, With æther vested, and a purple sky-- The blissful seats of happy souls below: Stars of their own, and their own suns, they know: Their airy limbs in sports they exercise, And, on the green, contend the wrestler's prize. Some, in heroic verse, divinely sing; Others in artful measures lead the ring. The Thracian bard, surrounded by the rest, There stands conspicuous in his flowing vest. His flying fingers, and harmonious quill, Strike seven distinguished notes, and seven at once they fill. Here found they Teucer's old heroic race, Born better times and happier years to grace. Assaracus and Ilus here enjoy Perpetual fame, with him who founded Troy. The chief beheld their chariots from afar, Their shining arms, and coursers trained to war. Their lances fixed in earth, their steeds around, Free from their harness, graze the flowery ground. The love of horses which they had, alive, And care of chariots, after death survive. Some cheerful souls were feasting on the plain; Some did the song, and some the choir, maintain, Beneath a laurel shade, where mighty Po Mounts up to woods above, and hides his head below. Here patriots live, who, for their country's good, In fighting-fields, were prodigal of blood: Priests of unblemished lives here make abode, And poets worthy their inspiring god; And searching wits, of more mechanic parts, Who graced their age with new-invented arts; Those, who to worth their bounty did extend, And those who knew that bounty to commend. The heads of these with holy fillets bound, And all their temples were with garlands crowned. To these the Sibyl thus her speech addressed, } And first to him surrounded by the rest-- } Towering his height, and ample was his breast:-- } "Say, happy souls! divine Musæus! say, Where lives Anchises, and where lies our way To find the hero, for whose only sake We sought the dark abodes, and crossed the bitter lake?" To this the sacred poet thus replied:-- "In no fixed place the happy souls reside. In groves we live, and lie on mossy beds, By crystal streams, that murmur through the meads: