“My laws forbid me to convey Substantial forms of breathing clay. ’Twas no good hour that made me take Alcides o’er the nether lake, Nor found I more auspicious freight In Theseus and his daring mate; Yet all were Heaven’s undoubted heirs, And prowess more than man’s was theirs. That from our monarch’s footstool dragged The infernal watch-dog, bound and gagged; These strove to force from Pluto’s side Our mistress, his imperial bride.” The Sibyl bids Charon have no fears of this kind now--Cerberus and Proserpine are safe from all designs on the part of her companion. This is Æneas of Troy, known for his “piety” as widely as for his deeds of arms. He does but seek an interview with his sire Anchises. But, if Charon be deaf to all such arguments,--she shows the golden bough. The passport is irresistible. Sullenly, and without a word of reply, the dark boatman brings his craft to shore, and bids the freight of ghosts clear the decks and make room for his living passengers. The boat groans, its seams open and let in the water, as the substantial flesh and blood steps on board.[33] So, in the Iliad of Homer, the mortal horses and earthly chariot of Diomed groan and strain under their immortal burden, when Minerva takes her seat beside the champion. Cerberus, in spite of Hercules, is at home again, and on the watch. His three heads and snake-wreathed neck are lifted in fury at the sight of strangers, and his bark rings through the shades. But the Sibyl has brought with her a medicated cake, which she throws down to him; he eats, and falls at once into a heavy sleep. Then, led by the Sibyl, the Trojan chief passes through the various regions of the world below. First they hear the cries of those infants who but just knew life in the world above, and then were snatched away from its enjoyment.[34] Next them come those who have been condemned to death by an unjust judgment, and for whom Minos here sits as judge of appeals. In the next region are those unhappy ones-- “Who all for loathing of the day In madness threw their lives away: How gladly now in upper air Contempt and beggary would they bear, And labour’s sorest pain! Fate bars the way: around their keep The slow unlovely waters creep, And bind with three-fold chain.” Suicide was no crime in the early pagan creed; but Virgil has to a certain degree adopted the Platonic notion, that to take away one’s own life was to desert the post of duty. It is remarkable how thoroughly he adopts Homer’s view of the incomparable superiority of the life of the upper world to the best possible estate in the land of shadows. We have here again the sad lament of Achilles in the Iliad--that the life of a slave on earth was more to be desired than the colourless existence of the heroes in Elysium.