Next, thou shalt sacrifice to them a ram
And sable ewe, turning the face of each
Right toward Erebus, and look thyself,
Meantime, askance toward the river’s course.
Souls num’rous, soon, of the departed dead
Will thither flock; then, strenuous urge thy friends,
Flaying the victims which thy ruthless steel
Hath slain, to burn them, and to sooth by pray’r
Illustrious Pluto and dread Proserpine.
While thus is done, thou seated at the foss,
Faulchion in hand, chace thence the airy forms
Afar, nor suffer them to approach the blood,
Till with Tiresias thou have first conferr’d.
Then, glorious Chief! the Prophet shall himself
Appear, who will instruct thee, and thy course
Delineate, measuring from place to place
Thy whole return athwart the fishy flood.
When, putting on me my attire, the nymph
Next, cloath’d herself, and girding to her waist
With an embroider’d zone her snowy robe
Graceful, redundant, veil’d her beauteous head.
Then, ranging the wide palace, I aroused
My followers, standing at the side of each—
Up! sleep no longer! let us quick depart,
For thus the Goddess hath, herself, advised.
With readiness obey’d. Yet even thence
I brought not all my crew. There was a youth,
Youngest of all my train, Elpenor; one
Not much in estimation for desert
In arms, nor prompt in understanding more,
Who overcharged with wine, and covetous
Of cooler air, high on the palace-roof
Of Circe slept, apart from all the rest.
Awaken’d by the clamour of his friends
Newly arisen, he also sprang to rise,
And in his haste, forgetful where to find
The deep-descending stairs, plunged through the roof.
With neck-bone broken from the vertebræ
Outstretch’d he lay; his spirit sought the shades.
Ye think, I doubt not, of an homeward course,
But Circe points me to the drear abode
Of Proserpine and Pluto, to consult
The spirit of Tiresias, Theban seer.
Felt consternation; on the earth they sat
Disconsolate, and plucking each his hair,
Yet profit none of all their sorrow found.
With tepid tears bedewing, as we went,
Our cheeks, meantime the Goddess to the shore
Descending, bound within the bark a ram
And sable ewe, passing us unperceived.
For who hath eyes that can discern a God
Going or coming, if he shun the view?
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