“O thou who hast at length overpassed the perils of the ocean, yet more terrible trials await thee on shore. Thou and thy Trojans shall indeed reach the promised land—that is assured; but ye shall wish that ye had never come thither. Wars, horrid wars, I foresee, and Tiber foaming with a deluge of blood. Another Achilles awaits thee in Latium—he also the son of a goddess. Nor shall the persecutions of Juno cease to follow the Trojans wherever they may be; and in your distress you will humbly supplicate all the surrounding Italian states for aid. Once more shall a marriage with a foreign wife be a source of affliction to you. But yield not under your sufferings; encounter them resolutely in the teeth of adverse fortune, and when you least expect it, the means of deliverance shall come to you from a Greek city.”
So, under the inspiration of Apollo, spoke the Sibyl. When she had ceased, Æneas answered that no prospect of further trials could appall him, for he was prepared to endure the worst that could befall. But he now entreated, since it was said that the entrance to the shades was near, that the Sibyl should conduct him into those dark regions, in order that he might obtain an interview with the spectre of his father. It was Anchises’ self, he added, who had bidden him make this request; and filial devotion would enable him to perform a task which Orpheus had achieved out of love for his wife Eurydice, and Pollux through his attachment to his brother Castor.
“Æneas,” replied the priestess, “easy is the descent into Hades: grim Pluto’s gate stands open night and day, but to retrace your steps and escape to the upper regions will be a difficult task indeed, and one which few have hitherto been able to accomplish. If, however, you are fixed in the resolve to pursue so desperate an enterprise, learn what first is to be done. There is in the dark woods which surround the Lake of Avernus a certain tree, dense of foliage, on which grows a single bough of gold, with leaves and twigs of the same precious metal, and no living mortal can enter Hades unless he has first found and plucked this bough, which is demanded by Proserpine, the consort of Pluto and queen of the infernal realms, as her peculiar tribute. When the bough is torn off, another always grows in its place. Therefore search for it diligently, and when you have discovered it grasp it with your hand. If the Fates are propitious to your enterprise, you will be able to pluck it easily; if otherwise, your whole strength could not tear it from the tree, nor could you ever sever it with your sword. In the mean time the body of one of your friends lies lifeless, and demands the funeral rites. First bury him with proper ceremonies, and then return to me with black cattle for the sacrifices; and then you shall be able to visit the realms of Hades, to which most living men are denied an entrance.”
With sorrowful thoughts Æneas, closely followed by Achates, now withdrew from the shrine, and took the way to the shore. Both were greatly perplexed to know what was the corpse needing burial of which the Sibyl had spoken. But while they were wondering they came to the beach, and there, before them, they saw lying the body of Misenus, who had come to a lamentable end. Misenus was the most skilled among all the Trojans in the art of blowing the trumpet. He had been, besides, a famous warrior, and during the siege of Troy was accustomed to be the companion of Hector in the field, and to fight by his side. When Hector fell, he attached himself to Æneas, scorning to follow any less illustrious chief, and so had formed one of the band which the hero was conducting to Latium. But he was inordinately vain of his skill with the trumpet, and believed himself superior even to the Tritons, the sea-deities whose especial province it was to lull the seas at the command of Neptune by blowing upon instruments made of shells. These Tritons Misenus had challenged to a trial of skill, and by way of defiance had blown so loud a note that the deities were afraid to respond to his challenge; but being full of jealousy, they had now contrived to lure him into the sea and drown him. The discovery of his lifeless body filled all his comrades with sadness. They gathered about him with loud lamentations, and then prepared to erect his funeral pyre, hastening with axes into the thick surrounding woods, and cutting down huge oaks and pines and ash-trees.
Æneas himself led the way in the performance of this task, and while he was engaged in it he could not help exclaiming, as his glance surveyed the wide forest, “Would that I could now perceive the golden bough which I must find before entering Hades; for in this ample forest, how can I begin to search for it?” Scarcely had he spoken when two pigeons suddenly swooped down from the upper air and alighted at his feet. He guessed at once that these doves, his mother’s favorite birds, had been sent for his guidance, and he entreated them to conduct him to the place where the precious bough was growing. The doves, feeding and flying by turns, advanced through the wood at such a speed that Æneas could easily keep them in sight, and presently, having reached the very edge of Lake Avernus, both rose at once into the air, and settled on a great tree of very dense foliage. The hero hastened to the spot, and there indeed, on one of the lower limbs of the tree, gleamed the bough, the rich yellow lustre of its leaves and twigs contrasting vividly with the deep green of the surrounding foliage. Æneas with delight grasped it, and plucked it from its place, and, bearing it carefully in his hand, hastened to rejoin his companions.
They, in the mean time, had reared on the shore a vast pile of logs of pine and oak, the sides of which they had interlaced with smaller boughs. After having carefully washed and purified the body of Misenus, they first made a couch upon the pyre, with the apparel of the dead man, and then, with renewed cries of grief, placed the body upon it. His arms, too, they laid beside him, and having poured incense and oil abundantly upon the pile, they set it on fire. When only smouldering embers were left, these were quenched with wine, and the ashes of the dead were carefully collected and placed in a brazen urn. This urn was afterwards deposited in a lofty tomb which Æneas erected on a promontory that henceforth bore the name of Misenus.
The funeral ceremonies having thus duly been performed, the hero proceeded to the cave of the Sibyl, and called upon her to fulfill her promise, and accompany him to the kingdom of the dead. She led him to the mouth of the black cavern at the side of Lake Avernus, and there offered up sacrifices of black cattle and sheep, uttering various invocations. Presently the ground began to rumble beneath their feet; upon which the Sibyl ordered those of Æneas’s followers who had attended him to withdraw from the spot, and exhorted the chief himself, drawing his sword from its sheath, to march firmly forward. So saying she plunged into the cave, nor did he hesitate to follow.
At first they moved along through a region that was utterly waste, void, and covered with an intense gloom, deep as that of a winter’s night when the moon is obscured by clouds. But this desolate tract was not wholly untenanted, for Æneas saw flitting about certain hideous shadowy forms. The spirits of Grief and Revenge and pale Disease, Fear and Famine and deformed Indigence, had their abode in this vestibule of Hades; and so, too, Death and Toil, and murderous War, and frantic Discord, her head crowned with curling vipers and bound by a blood-dyed fillet. Here, also, were the iron chambers in which dwelt the terrible Furies. In the midst rose a gloomy elm, which was the haunt of vain Dreams, who dwelt under every leaf. Beyond this tree were many huge and misshapen monsters,—Centaurs, and double-formed Scyllas, and the great dragon of the Lernæan lake, which, when it plagued the upper earth, was slain by Hercules. Here, also, was the huge Chimæra, with its three heads vomiting flames; Gorgons, Harpies, and other ghastly forms flitted about. At so fearful a sight. Æneas was seized with sudden fear; he drew his sword, and would have struck at the monsters, if the Sibyl had not restrained his hand and reminded him that they were but disembodied shadows.
The path now led them to a place where the three infernal rivers, Acheron, Cocytus, and Styx, met in one deep, black, and boiling flood. Here there kept guard the grim ferryman Charon, an infernal deity of fearful aspect. A long gray beard fell all tangled and neglected from his chin; his filthy and ragged garments were knotted over his shoulders; his eyes glittered with baleful light. He sat on a great black barge, which he pushed to and fro across the river with a pole. An immense crowd of shades was incessantly pouring to the banks,—young and old, matrons and virgins, warriors who had endured the toils of a long life and tender boys who had died while yet under the care of their parents. All were eager to cross the stream, and stretched their hands in earnest entreaty to Charon to admit them into his boat. But the sullen ferryman only consented to receive some; others he drove back with his pole, and would on no account permit them to cross.
Æneas was amazed at this scene, and asked the Sibyl to explain to him its meaning. “You see before you,” she replied, “the deep pools of Cocytus, and the Stygian lake, by which the Gods are accustomed to swear when they take an oath which they dare not violate. All that crowd which Charon will not ferry across is composed of persons who after death received not the rites of burial; those only are permitted to enter the boat who have been interred with proper ceremonies. As for the others, they wander unquiet about these shores for a hundred years before they are allowed to cross to the regions beyond.”