Farewell to him. Æneas, with his Guide, Approached, not unobserved, the black stream’s side Charon was on the watch as they pursued Their way along the sad and silent wood. Scarcely had they emerged when he began To scold, and Æneas first: “Halt, armed man, Whoever thou art! No step further! Why Wouldest thou cross? For ghosts alone I ply Bound for the realms of slumb’rous Night and Sleep. Not for live bodies do I ferry keep! Do I not well remember how I crossed With Hercules on board, much to my cost?— Think! Zeus’s son, incomparably strong, Fastened Cerberus with a leathern thong, And drew trembling from under Pluto’s throne! Who paid for the sacrilege? I alone. When Theseus and Pirithous dared try To carry off our Queen, who culprit? I!” “Waste wrath!” quoth the Sibyl: “Thy hound may save His bark to fright the pale Shades from his cave. Pluto’s honour is safe; feel no alarms; ’Tis Æneas famed for piety and arms! Hither has he descended from above To pay his Sire the homage of his love. Though not moved thou by tenderness like his, See the Branch! Render fealty to This!” At the sight rarely seen the anger sank, Awe followed; straight backed Charon for the bank, Clearing bench and deck of many a Shade To make room for Æneas and the Maid. Starting with its unwonted weight once more, The coracle groaned, leaked at every pore; But lasted out, and at the water’s edge, Landed in clammy mud and grey-green sedge. From where against the landing-place he lay, Cerberus opened his three jaws to bay Strangers, when the Sibyl, seeing the snakes Round the neck arching, threw drugged honey-cakes. The ravening throats licked the whole up; then— While the monstrous limbs grovelled o’er the den— Bidding the rivers none re-cross farewell, The Pair are through the gate, and inside Hell.