Death, and her brother, Sleep, rule side by side Realms that shadowy boundaries divide, Yet none can cross but through gates twain; and these Are in the charge of Death, who keeps the keys. Now and again a Spirit will repair For love or hate back to the upper air, To commune with Spirit, so far as whole Can become two parts, Soul be just a Soul. Of dull, dun horn the gate such use; hard by Gleams the other, perfect of ivory. Thence from the Under-world Imps float above Freaks that in spite or idlesse they have wove, To raid and wilder slumber, let it close Men’s eyes, and cheat their senses of repose. Anchises, for whom Space and Time were nought, Had through the gate of horn Æneas sought By night on the Etruscan sea; he now With last words, and many a longing vow Of love, confessed his child was due to part— Though truer no Son, kinder no Sire’s heart— By the ivory door; the horn gate stood Fast locked and sealed against all flesh and blood. Though soul there—a thistle-down Man, wind-tost With life; a night-mare; less real than a ghost! Virgil to the Unknown God Æneidos, Bk. IV. vv. 576-577 _Sequimur te, Sarnie Deorum, Quisquis es_ Thou camest in the Darkness, and the Darkness Light became— Not a word was ever spoken, and yet I heard Thy name, I care not whither I must go; to worship at what shrine; I know but that Thy servant I; that Thou art Master mine. No Priest I need to lead me; for when Thou goest before, How can I aught but follow, to love Thee, and to adore! Who can ever fail to find Thee, or miss of Thy abode? For where Thou art is Holiness,—and Holiness is God! The Gates Æneidos, Bk. VI. vv. 893-898 Sleep, and his Sister, Death; Twins ever with Us; and theirs the keys Of Past and Present, the Above, and the Beneath; And, as Brother and Sister please, Forth flutter Falsehood. Truth, Changed, according as they pass the Gate Of Horn or of Ivory into Joy or Ruth, Even dreamed kindness into Hate! Ghosts _Ibid._ Ah! We at the behest, Poor human mortals! of numberless shadowy hosts Weaving Men’s dooms to amuse the tedium of Rest! And nought abides but Ghosts! Euryalus and Pallas Æneidos, Bk. IX. vv. 455-457; Bk. XI. vv. 68-71