Page:Aeneid (Conington 1866).djvu/215

'Tis Troy's Æneas, brave and good,
To see his sire would cross the flood.
If nought it soften you to see
Such pure heroic piety,
This branch at least'—and here she showed
The branch within her raiment stowed—
'You needs must own.' At once the swell
Of anger in his bosom fell.
He answers not, but eyes the sheen
Of the blest bough, so long unseen,
Turns round the vessel, dark as ink,
And brings it to the river's brink;
Then bids the shadowy spectres flit
That up and down the benches sit,
Frees from its load the bark's deep womb,
And gives the great Æneas room.
Groans the strained craft of cobbled skin,
And through rent seams the ooze drinks in.
At length wise seer and hero brave
Are safely ferried o'er the wave,
And landed on the further bank,
'Mid formless slime and marshweed dank.

Lo! Cerberus with three-throated bark
Makes all the region ring,
Stretched out along the cavern dark
That fronts their entering
The seer perceived his monstrous head
All bristling o'er with snakes uproused,
And toward him flings a sop of bread
With poppy-seed and honey drowsed.
He with his triple jaws dispread
Snaps up the morsel as it falls,
Relaxes his huge frame as dead,
And o'er the cave extended sprawls.