gloom of that place. He crossed the Styx, the black river that the Gods
name as their most sacred oath. Charon, the harsh old ferryman who takes
the shades across, forgot to ask of him the coin that every soul must pay.
For Orpheus sang. There in the Underworld the song of Apollo would not
have moved the poor ghosts so much. It would have amazed them, like a star
far off that no one understands. But here was a human singer, and he sang
of things that grow in every human heart, youth and love and death, the
sweetness of the Earth, and the bitterness of losing aught that is dear to
us.

Now the dead, when they go to the Underworld, drink of the pool of Lethe;
and forgetfulness of all that has passed comes upon them like a sleep, and
they lose their longing for the world, they lose their memory of pain, and
live content with that cool twilight. But not the pool of Lethe itself
could withstand the song of Orpheus; and in the hearts of the shades all
the old dreams awoke wondering. They remembered once more the life of men
on earth, the glory of the sun and moon, the sweetness of new grass, the
warmth of their homes, all the old joy and grief that they had known. And
they wept.

Even the Furies were moved to pity. Those, too, who were suffering
punishment for evil deeds ceased to be tormented for themselves, and
grieved only for the innocent Orpheus who had lost Eurydice. Sisyphus,
that fraudulent king (who is doomed to roll a monstrous boulder uphill
forever), stopped to listen. The daughters of Danaus left off their task
of drawing water in a sieve. Tantalus forgot hunger and thirst, though
before his eyes hung magical fruits that were wont to vanish out of his
grasp, and just beyond reach bubbled the water that was a torment to his
ears; he did not hear it while Orpheus sang.

So, among a crowd of eager ghosts, Orpheus came, singing with all his
heart, before the king and queen of Hades. And the queen Proserpina wept
as she listened and grew homesick, remembering the fields of Enna and the
growing of the wheat, and her own beautiful mother, Demeter. Then Pluto
gave way.

They called Eurydice and she came, like a young guest unused to the
darkness of the Underworld. She was to return with Orpheus, but on one
condition. If he turned to look at her once before they reached the upper
air, he must lose her again and go back to the world alone.

Rapt with joy, the happy Orpheus hastened on the way, thinking only of
Eurydi