Sybil and soldier did he row, and beached
On the green formless slime of the other side.
Cerberus here sends ringing through his realm
A triple-throated howling, couched, immune,
With cavern for a kennel. The Priestess,
Seeing his dragon necks stiffen to strike,
A cake of honey and bemusing herbs
Tossed him. Three maws the ravening monster spread,
Snapped it in air, and all his hugesome bulk
Uncoiled and sprawled and stretched across the cave.
Æneas down the brute-unwardened path
Quick pace pursues. Behind him lies the stream
Whose waves whisper no whisper of return.
Now cries are heard, and thin abundant wind
All down Hell’s forecourt weep the Infant Souls,
Whom shareless of life’s shining dower, Doom
Tore from the breast and whelmed in Death’s sharp wave,
Near, men judged out of life by false decree.
They have their urn, their Umpire, these abodes:
'Tis Minos draws the lots, he who may call
The council of the silent : he who reads,
Grand arbiter, the histories of men.
And next them flt the Sad Ones who prepared
With their rash hands their own extinction’s cup
And flung their souls on dark to spite the day.
Ah could they, could they back to the bright sky
What years would they not bear of toil or pain!
Law bars them fast: the mere’s grim loveless wave
Bounds their domain : Styx nine times interfused
Imprisons. Here the Broken-hearted Fields
205
