of man, not even the embattled powers of heaven, could
break it down. Rising in air is a turret of iron, and Tisiphone,
with a gory robe girt round her, sits at the vestibule 5
with sleepless vigilance night and day. Hence
sounds of wailing meet the ear, and the crack of remorseless
whips; the clank of steel follows, and the trailing of
the chain. Æneas stood still, riveted by the terror of
the noise. “What shapes is guilt wearing now? tell me, 10
dread maiden. What are the torments that lie on it so
hard? what mean these loud upsoaring shrieks?” The