ound treasure and shared it not with their fellows, this the greatest
multitude of all; and they who were slain for adultery, and who followed
unrighteous arms, and feared not to betray their masters' plighted hand.
Imprisoned they await their doom. Seek not to be told that doom, that
fashion of fortune wherein they are sunk. Some roll a vast stone, or
hang outstretched on the spokes of wheels; hapless Theseus sits and
shall sit for ever, and Phlegyas in his misery gives counsel to all and
witnesses aloud through the gloom, _Learn by this warning to do justly
and not to slight the gods._ This man sold his country for gold, and
laid her under a tyrant's sway; he set up and pulled down laws at a
price; this other forced his daughter's bridal chamber and a forbidden
marriage; all dared some monstrous wickedness, and had success in what
they dared. Not had I an hundred tongues, an hundred mouths, and a voice
of iron, could I sum up all the shapes of crime or name over all their
punishments.'

Thus spoke Phoebus' long-lived priestess; then 'But come now,' she
cries; 'haste on the way and perfect the service begun; let us go
faster; I descry the ramparts cast in Cyclopean furnaces, and in front
the arched gateway where they bid us lay the gifts foreordained.' She
ended, and advancing side by side along the shadowy ways, they pass over
and draw nigh the gates. Aeneas makes entrance, and sprinkling his body
with fresh water, plants the bough full in the gateway.

Now at length, this fully done, and the service of the goddess
perfected, they came to the happy place, the green pleasances and
blissful seats of the Fortunate Woodlands. Here an ampler air clothes
the meadows in lustrous sheen, and they know their own sun and a
starlight of their own. Some exercise their limbs in tournament on the
greensward, contend in games, and wrestle on the yellow sand. Some
[644-676]dance with beating footfall and lips that sing; with them is
the Thracian priest in sweeping robe, and makes music to their measures
with the notes' sevenfold interval, the notes struck now with his
fingers, now with his ivory rod. Here is Teucer's ancient brood, a
generation excellent in beauty, high-hearted heroes born in happier
years, Ilus and Assaracus, and Dardanus, founder of Troy. Afar he
marvels at the armour and chariots empty of their lords: their spears
stand fixed in the ground, and their unyoked horses pasture at large
over the plain: their life's del