And stood around that dread Avernus’ brink,[128]
Without attempt from the foul task to shrink;
Then, at a word, into the lake they went,
Whose waters were of dreadful temperament:
They plunged therein as horses gored to death,
And sent forth pois’nous vapours with their breath.
Three times a day the ghastly livid lake
Turn’d into blood, with which their thirst they’d slake:
When brass-hair’d Vulcan struck his mighty gong,
Erect they stood, and join’d in woful song,