No stately trees bear apple-laden boughs;700
But sterile wastes defile those lonely depths,
And in eternal sloth the foul earth lies.
Here lie the lonesome remnants of the world.
The air hangs motionless; and thick night broods
Upon a sluggish, horror-stricken land.705
The place of death is worse than death itself.
Amphitr.: And what of him who rules those dusky realms?
Where sits he as he rules his shadowy folk?
Theseus: There is a place in an obscure recess