71. You know, too, how Œager's much-loved son,
Skilfully playing on the Thracian harp,
Brought back from hell his dear Agriope,
And sail'd across th' inhospitable land
Where Charon drags down in his common boat
The souls of all the dead; and far resounds
The marshy stream slow creeping through the reeds
That line the death-like banks. But Orpheus dared
With fearless soul to pass that lonely wave,
Striking his harp with well-accustom'd hand.