Two sought by force to seize his beauteous bride."To whom the Sibyl thus: "Compose thy mind;Nor frauds are here contriv'd, nor force design'd.
Still may the dog the wand'ring troops constrain Of airy ghosts, and vex the guilty train, And with her grisly lord his lovely queen remain.
The Trojan chief, whose lineage is from Jove, Much fam'd for arms, and more for filial love, Is sent to seek his sire in your Elysian grove.
If neither piety, nor Heav'n's command, Can gain his passage to the Stygian strand, This fatal present shall prevail at least."Then shew'd the shining bough, conceal'd within her vest.
No more was needful: for the gloomy god Stood mute with awe, to see the golden rod;Admir'd the destin'd off'ring to his queen-A venerable gift, so rarely seen.
His fury thus appeas'd, he puts to land;
The ghosts forsake their seats at his command:
He clears the deck, receives the mighty freight;The leaky vessel groans beneath the weight.
Slowly she sails, and scarcely stems the tides;The pressing water pours within her sides.
His passengers at length are wafted o'er, Expos'd, in muddy weeds, upon the miry shore.
No sooner landed, in his den they found The triple porter of the Stygian sound, Grim Cerberus, who soon began to rear His crested snakes, and arm'd his bristling hair.
The prudent Sibyl had before prepar'd A sop, in honey steep'd, to charm the guard;Which, mix'd with pow'rful drugs, she cast before His greedy grinning jaws, just op'd to roar.
With three enormous mouths he gapes; and straight, With hunger press'd, devours the pleasing bait.
Long draughts of sleep his monstrous limbs enslave;He reels, and, falling, fills the spacious cave.
The keeper charm'd, the chief without delay Pass'd on, and took th' irremeable way.
Before the gates, the cries of babes new born, Whom fate had from their tender mothers torn, Assault his ears: then those, whom form of laws Condemn'd to die, when traitors judg'd their cause.
Nor want they lots, nor judges to review The wrongful sentence, and award a new.
Minos, the strict inquisitor, appears;
And lives and crimes, with his assessors, hears.
Round in his urn the blended balls he rolls, Absolves the just, and dooms the guilty souls.
The next, in place and punishment, are they Who prodigally throw their souls away;Fools, who, repining at their wretched state, And loathing anxious life, suborn'd their fate.
With late repentance now they would retrieve The bodies they forsook, and wish to live;Their pains and poverty desire to bear, To view the light of heav'n, and breathe the vital air:
But fate forbids; the Stygian floods oppose, And with circling streams the captive souls inclose.
Not far from thence, the Mournful Fields appear So call'd from lovers that inhabit there.
The souls whom that unhappy flame invades, In secret solitude and myrtle shades Make endless moans, and, pining with desire, Lament too late their unextinguish'd fire.
Here Procris, Eriphyle here he found, Baring her breast, yet bleeding with the wound Made by her son.He saw Pasiphae there, With Phaedra's ghost, a foul incestuous pair.
There Laodamia, with Evadne, moves, Unhappy both, but loyal in their loves:
Caeneus, a woman once, and once a man, But ending in the sex she first began.
Not far from these Phoenician Dido stood, Fresh from her wound, her bosom bath'd in blood;Whom when the Trojan hero hardly knew, Obscure in shades, and with a doubtful view, (Doubtful as he who sees, thro' dusky night, Or thinks he sees, the moon's uncertain light,)With tears he first approach'd the sullen shade;And, as his love inspir'd him, thus he said:
"Unhappy queen! then is the common breath Of rumor true, in your reported death, And I, alas! the cause? By Heav'n, I vow, And all the pow'rs that rule the realms below, Unwilling I forsook your friendly state, Commanded by the gods, and forc'd by fate-Those gods, that fate, whose unresisted might Have sent me to these regions void of light, Thro' the vast empire of eternal night.
Nor dar'd I to presume, that, press'd with grief, My flight should urge you to this dire relief.
Stay, stay your steps, and listen to my vows:
'T is the last interview that fate allows!"In vain he thus attempts her mind to move With tears, and pray'rs, and late-repenting love.
Disdainfully she look'd; then turning round, But fix'd her eyes unmov'd upon the ground, And what he says and swears, regards no more Than the deaf rocks, when the loud billows roar;But whirl'd away, to shun his hateful sight, Hid in the forest and the shades of night;Then sought Sichaeus thro' the shady grove, Who answer'd all her cares, and equal'd all her love.
Some pious tears the pitying hero paid, And follow'd with his eyes the flitting shade, Then took the forward way, by fate ordain'd, And, with his guide, the farther fields attain'd, Where, sever'd from the rest, the warrior souls remain'd.
Tydeus he met, with Meleager's race, The pride of armies, and the soldiers' grace;And pale Adrastus with his ghastly face.
Of Trojan chiefs he view'd a num'rous train, All much lamented, all in battle slain;Glaucus and Medon, high above the rest, Antenor's sons, and Ceres' sacred priest.
And proud Idaeus, Priam's charioteer, Who shakes his empty reins, and aims his airy spear.
The gladsome ghosts, in circling troops, attend And with unwearied eyes behold their friend;Delight to hover near, and long to know What bus'ness brought him to the realms below.
But Argive chiefs, and Agamemnon's train, When his refulgent arms flash'd thro' the shady plain, Fled from his well-known face, with wonted fear, As when his thund'ring sword and pointed spear Drove headlong to their ships, and glean'd the routed rear.
They rais'd a feeble cry, with trembling notes;But the weak voice deceiv'd their gasping throats.
Here Priam's son, Deiphobus, he found, Whose face and limbs were one continued wound:
Dishonest, with lopp'd arms, the youth appears, Spoil'd of his nose, and shorten'd of his ears.
