Whate’er thou wilt, thou canst, with, by thy side,
A Divine Mother for thy shield and guide.
How else could living mortal hope to pass
Such rivers, and the Stygian morass?
Let me cross with thee; all my griefs will cease;
I shall have died at last, and be at peace;”—
“Unburied,” cried the Maid: “without command
From the Furies, presume to tread their strand!
Stop importuning for what Fate denies;
Heaven has not forgotten thy death-cries;