XLIX. "When lo! the savage folk, with sword and stave,
Set on me, weening to have found rich prey.
And now my bones lie weltering on the wave,
Now on strange shores winds blow them far away.
O! by the memory of thy sire, I pray,
By young Iulus, and his hope so fair,
By heaven's sweet breath and light of gladsome day,
Relieve my misery, assuage my care,		433
Sail back to Velia's port, great conqueror, and there
L. "Strew earth upon me, for the task is light;
Or, if thy goddess-mother deign to show
Some path—for never in the god's despite
O'er these dread waters would'st thou dare to go,
Thine aid in pity on a wretch bestow;
Reach forth thy hand, and bear me to my rest,
Dead with the dead to ease me of my woe."
He spake, and him the prophetess addressed:		442
"O Palinurus! whence so impious a request?
LI. "Think'st thou the Stygian waters to explore
Unburied, and the Furies' flood to see,
And reach unbidden yon relentless shore?
Hope not by prayer to bend the Fates' decree,
But take this comfort to thy misery;
The neighbouring towns, and people far and near,
Compelled by prodigies, thy ghost shall free,
And load thy tomb with offerings year by year,		451
And Palinurus' name for aye the place shall bear."
LII. These words relieved his heaviness; joy came
Upon his saddened spirit, pleased to hear
The well-known land remembered by his name.
Thus on they journey, and the stream draw near;
Whom when the Stygian boatman saw appear,
As shoreward through the silent grove they stray,
With stern rebuke he challenged them: "Beware;
Stand off; approach not, but your purpose say;		460
What brought you here, whoe'er ye come in armed array?
LIII. "Here Shades inhabit,—Sleep and drowsy Night,—
I may not steer the living to yon shore.
Small joy was mine, when, in the gods' despite,
Alive Alcides o'er the stream I bore,
And Theseus and Pirithous, though more
Than men in prowess, nor of mortal clay.
One tried to seize Hell's guardian, and before
Our monarch's throne to chain the trembling prey;		469
These from her lord's own bed to drag the queen to day."

LIV. Briefly the [seer Amphrysian] spake again:
"No guile these arms intend, nor open fight;
Fear not; still may the monster in his den
With endless howl the bloodless ghosts affright,
And chaste Proserpine guard her uncle's right.
Duteous and brave, his father's shade to view,
Descends the famed Æneas; if the sight
Of love so great is powerless to subdue,		478
Mark this,"—and from her vest the fateful gift she drew.
LV. Down fell his wrath: the venerable bough,
So long unseen, with wonderment he eyed;
Then, shoreward turning with his cold-blue prow,
From bench and gangway thrusts the shades aside,
And takes the great Æneas and his guide.
The stitched bark, groaning with the load it bore,
Gapes at each seam, and drinks the plenteous tide,
Till Prince and Prophetess, borne safely o'er,		487
Stand on the dank, grey ooze and grim, unsightly shore.

LVI. Crouched in a fronting cave, huge Cerberus wakes
These kingdoms with his three-mouthed bark. His head
The priestess marked, all bristling now with snakes,
And flung a sop of honied drugs and bread.
He, famine-stung, with triple jaws dispread,
The morsel snaps, then prone along the cave
Lies stretched on earth, with loosened limbs, as dead.
The sentry lulled, Æneas, blithe and brave,		496
Seizes the pass, and leaves the irremeable wave.