Page:Aeneid (Conington 1866).djvu/214

190 He hears, and feels his grief no more,

But glories in the namesake shore.

Once more upon their way they go

And near the stream of sulphurous flow,

Whom when the gloomy boatman saw

Still nigher through the forest draw

And touch the bank, with warning tone

He hails the visitants unknown:

'Whoe'er you are that sword in hand

Our Stygian flood approach,

Your errand speak from where you stand,

Nor further dare encroach.

These climes the spectres hold of right,

The home of Sleep and slumberous Night;

My laws forbid me to convey

Substantial forms of breathing clay.

'Twas no good hour that made me take

Alcides o'er the nether lake,

Nor found I more auspicious freight

In Theseus and his daring mate;

Yet all were Heaven's undoubted heirs,

And prowess more than man's was theirs.

That from our monarch's footstool dragged

The infernal watchdog, bound and gagged:

strove to force from Pluto's side

Our mistress, his imperial bride.'

Then briefly thus the Amphrysian seer:

'No lurking stratagems are here;

Dismiss your qualms: the sword we draw

Imports no breach of Stygian law:

Still let your porter from his den

Scare bloodless shades that once were men

With baying loud and deep:

Let virtuous Proserpine maintain

Her uncle's bed untouched by stain,

And still his threshold keep.