They, who brothers' better claim disown, Expel their parents, and usurp the throne; Defraud their clients, and, to lucre sold, Sit brooding on unprofitable gold; Who dare not give, and e'en refuse to lend, To their poor kindred, or a wanting friend-- Vast is the throng of these; nor less the train Of lustful youths, for foul adult'ry slain-- Hosts of deserters, who their honor sold, And basely broke their faith for bribes of gold; All these within the dungeon's depth remain, Despairing pardon, and expecting pain. To tyrants, others have their countries sold, Imposing foreign lords, for foreign gold; Some have old laws repeal'd, new statutes made, Not as the people pleas'd, but as they paid. With incest some their daughters' bed profan'd. All dar'd th' worst of ills, and what they dar'd, attain'd. Dryden. As they turn away from this dread place, a tortured voice sounds after them: Learn righteousness, and dread th' avenging deities. Far off from here they reach the abode of the blessed--the Elysian Fields, Where long extended plains of pleasure lay. The verdant fields with those of heav'n may vie, With ether vested, and a purple sky-- The blissful seats of happy souls below: Stars of their own, and their own suns, they know. There airy limbs in sports they exercise, And on the green contend the wrestlers' prize. Some, in heroic verse, divinely sing; Others in artful measures lead the ring. Here patriots live, who, for their country's good, In fighting fields were prodigal of blood; Priests of unblemish'd lives here make abode, And poets worthy their inspiring god; And searching wits of more mechanic parts, Who grac'd 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 crown'd. Dryden. Seeking Anchises among these happy shades, the two are directed to a remote valley, where, beside the waters of Oblivion, old Anchises is passing in review the long train of his posterity, marshaled in the order of their birth into the world. When Anchises sees his son approaching, he cries out joyfully to him: