Classic Poem

THE DESCENT TO AVERNUS .

There was a bottomless pit, wide yawning with frightful abysses,
Jagged, and guarded by darkening waves and shadowy forests,
Over which none of the birds that fly had ever been able
Safely to wing their way, so deadly and dense exhalations
Rose from its murky throat to the lofty dome of the heavens;
Wherefore this dismal lake had been named by the Grecians, Avernus.
Here hath the priestess at first ranged four black bullocks in order,
Then on the brow of each a libation of wine is outpouring,
And from between the horns, the hairs that are uppermost plucking,
These on the sacred fire she lays as the first expiation,
Hecate loudly invoking, who rules both in Hell and in Heaven.
Others draw knife to the throat, and catch the hot blood in their goblets;
While Æneas himself a black-fleeced lamb with his sword-blade,
Unto the Mother of Furies and unto her powerful sister
Slays, and a barren cow, to thee, O Proserpina, offers.
Then to the Stygian king he consecrates altars at midnight,
Laying upon the flames the inward parts of the bullocks,
Firm and unbroken, and pouring rich oil on the hot blazing vitals.
But, as the first faint flush of morning foretokened the sunrise,
Rumbled the earth beneath, and a waving began in the topmost
Boughs of the forest, and hounds bayed loud in the darkness to herald
Hecate's advent. " Avaunt! Avaunt, ye profane, " cried the Sibyl;
" Far be your feet withdrawn; depart one and all from the forest!
But, do thou dare the way, thy sword pluck forth from the scabbard;
Now hadst thou needs be bold, now steadfast of heart, O Æneas! "
Speaking no more, she hath flung herself frenziedly into the cavern.
He, with resolute step, keeps pace with the stride of his escort.
Gods, whose dominion is over the dead! and ye, voiceless shadows!
Chaos, and Phlegethon, too, ye realms far silent in darkness,
Sanction me now to reveal the things I have heard; let me open
Mysteries hid in the depths of the earth beneath her dark vapour.
Under the shield of the silent night they went through the shadow,
Through the unpeopled abodes of Dis, and his ghostly dominions,
As by the treacherous light of the faithless moon, in a forest,
Travellers pass when Jove hath buried the heavens in shadow,
And dark night hath stolen the colour from every object.
Hard by the mouth of Hell, where yawn the wide portals infernal,
Grief and avenging Care have fixed their slumberless couches;
Here wan Sickness dwells, with wretched Age for a neighbour,
Sordid Penury, too, and Fear, and desperate Famine;
Shapes that affright the eye; and Death and Labour and Slumber,
Dull twin brother to Death, and the guilty Joys of the spirit.
Near to the opposite portal, lo! death-dealing War is abiding;
There are the iron cells of the Furies, and Discord, in frenzy
Binding together her viperous tresses with blood-crimsoned fillets.
Midway, a gloomy elm vast boughs and centuried branches
Giant-like stretches abroad, and there false dreams have their dwelling, —
So it is said, — and beneath all the leaves they are swarming and clinging.
There are the phantoms besides of a myriad monsters prodigious;
Centaurs are stalled in the entrance, with Scylla, half beast and half human,
Hundred-handed Briareus, too, and the Dragon of Lerna,
Horribly hissing; and, armed with breathings of flame, the Chimaera;
Gorgons, and Harpies dire, and Geryon's three-headed spectre.
Then, in sudden alarm, Æneas, unsheathing his dagger,
Flashes the naked blade in defiance of all who approach him;
And did his wiser guide not warn him that light, unsubstantial
Beings are flitting about in the shadowy semblance of bodies,
He would rush on, and in vain with steel strike shadows asunder.