The biographers add, that Augustus commanded Virgil to read no further on that day, and that the poet replied he had already ended the subject. He has not much more to say in this Sixth Book. Anchises gives his son some prophetic intimations as to his future fortunes in Italy, and then escorts his visitors to the gates of Sleep. “Sleep gives his name to portals twain: One all of horn, they say, Through which authentic spectres gain Quick exit into day, And one which bright with ivory gleams, Whence Pluto sends delusive dreams. Conversing still, the sire attends The travellers on their road, And through the ivory portal sends From forth the unseen abode.” The lines have been taken to mean that this visit to the shades was, after all, but a dream. CHAPTER VII. THE TROJANS LAND IN LATIUM. It has been said that this poem combines in some degree the characters both of the Iliad and of the Odyssey. Up to this point we have had the wanderings and adventures of the Trojan hero: he has been the Ulysses of his own tale. Henceforth we have a tale of the camp and the battle-field, of siege and defence, and personal combat; and we are reminded, in almost every passage, of the stirring scenes of the Iliad. Æneas, on his ascent into upper air, rejoins his crew, and the fleet, setting sail from Cumæ, enters the noble harbour of Caieta. Not that the place had any such name as yet; but there the hero buries his old nurse, and gives her name to the spot. Once more embarking, they pass the promontory of Circe, and hear, as they sail by, the roars and yells of the unhappy prisoners, changed by the spells of the sorceress into the shape of brutes, whom she holds in bondage there. They listen and shudder, and bless the favouring gale which bears them away from such perilous neighbourhood. Then, with the morrow’s dawn, the fleet enters the mouth of the Tiber. The picture of the galleys going up the stream is very beautiful:-- “The sea was reddening with the dawn: The queen of morn on high Was seen in rosy chariot drawn Against a saffron sky, When on the bosom of the deep The Zephyrs dropped at once to sleep, And, struck with calm, the tired oars strain Against the smooth unmoving main. Now from the deep Æneas sees A mighty grove of glancing trees. Embowered amid the silvan scene Old Tiber winds his banks between, And in the lap of ocean pours His gulfy stream, his sandy stores. Around, gay birds of diverse wing, Accustomed there to fly or sing, Were fluttering on from spray to spray And soothing ether with their lay. He bids his comrades turn aside And landward set each vessel’s head, And enters in triumphant pride The river’s shadowy bed.”