XIX. So prayed Æneas, clinging to the shrine,
When thus the prophetess: "O Trojan Knight,
Born of Anchises, and of seed divine,
Down to Avernus the descent is light,
The gate of Dis stands open day and night.
But upward thence thy journey to retrace,
There lies the labour; 'tis a task of might,
By few achieved, and those of heavenly race,		163
Whom shining worth extolled or Jove hath deigned to grace.
XX. "Thick woods and shades the middle space invest,
And black Cocytus girds the drear abode.
Yet, if such passion hath thy soul possessed,
If so thou longest to indulge thy mood,
And madly twice to cross the Stygian flood,
And visit twice black Tartarus, mark the way
Sacred to nether Juno, in a wood,
With golden stem and foliage, lurks a spray,		172
And trees and darksome dales surrounding shroud the day.
XXI. "Yet none the shades can visit, till he tear
That golden growth, the gift of Pluto's queen,
And show the passport she decreed to bear.
One plucked, another in its place is seen,
As bright and burgeoning with golden green.
Search then aloft, and when thou see'st the spray,
Reach forth and pluck it; willingly, I ween,
If Fate shall call thee, 'twill thy touch obey;		181
Else steel nor strength of arm shall rend the prize away.
XXII. "Mark yet—alas! thou know'st not—yonder lies
Thy friend's dead body, and pollutes the shore.
While thou the Fates art asking to advise,
And lingering here, a suppliant, at our door.
Nay, first thy comrade to his home restore,
And build a tomb, and bring black cattle; they
The stain shall expiate; so the Stygian shore
Shalt thou behold, and tread the sunless way,		190
Which living feet ne'er trod, and mounted to the day."

XXIII. She ended. From the cave Æneas went,
With down-dropt eyes and melancholy mien,
Inly revolving many a dark event.
Trusty Achates at his side is seen,
Moody alike, each measured step between
In musing converse framing phantasies,
What lifeless comrade could the priestess mean?
Whom to be buried? When before their eyes,		199
Stretched on the barren beach the dead Misenus lies,
XXIV. Dead with dishonour, in unseemly plight,
Misenus, son of Æolus, whom beside
None better knew with brazen blast to light
The flames of war, and wake the warrior's pride.
Once Hector's co-mate, proud at Hector's side
To wind the clarion and the sword to wield.
When, stricken by Achilles, Hector died,
Æneas then he followed to the field,		208
Loth to a meaner lord his fealty to yield.
XXV. Now while a challenge to the gods he blew,
And made the waves his hollow shell resound,
Him Triton, jealous—if the tale be true—
Caught unaware, and in the surges drowned
Among the rocks.—There now the corpse they found.
Loud groaned Æneas, and a mournful cry
Rose from the Trojans, as they gazed around.
Then, filled with tears, the Sibyl's task they ply,		217
And rear a wood-built pile and altar to the sky.
XXVI. Into a grove of aged trees they go,
The wild-beasts' lair. The holm-oak rings amain,
Smit with the axe, the pitchy pine falls low,
Sharp wedges cleave the beechen core in twain,
The mountain ash comes rolling to the plain.
Foremost himself, accoutred as the rest,
Æneas cheered them, toiling with his train;
Then, musing sadly, and with pensive breast,		226
Gazed on the boundless grove, and thus his prayer addressed:
XXVII. "O in this grove could I behold the tree
With golden bough; since true, alas, too true,
Misenus, hath the priestess sung of thee!"
He spake, when, lighting on the sward, down flew
Two doves. With joy his mother's birds he knew,
"Lead on, blest guides, along the air," he prayed,
"If way there be, the precious bough to view,
Whose golden leaves the teeming soil o'ershade;		235
O mother, solve my doubts, nor stint the needed aid."