and startled by the tumult: “Tell me, dread maiden,
what means this concourse to the stream? Of what are
these spirits in quest? What choice decides that these
shall retire from the shore, while those are rowing through 30
that leaden pool?” To him in brief returned the aged
priestess: “Son of Anchises, Heaven’s undoubted offspring,
before you are Cocytus’ depths and the marshy
flood of Styx, that power by whose name the gods fear
to swear in vain. The whole multitude you see here is 35
helpless and tombless; Charon is the ferryman; those