High in the midst a giant elm doth fling The shadows of its aged arms.

There dwell False Dreams and, nestling, to the foliage cling, And monstrous shapes, too numerous to tell, Keep covert, stabled in the porch of Hell.
The beast of Lerna, hissing in his ire, Huge Centaurs, two-formed Scyllas, fierce and fell, Briareus hundred-handed, Gorgons dire, Harpies, the triple Shade, Chimaera fenced with fire.
XL.

At once AEneas, stirred by sudden fear, Clutches his sword, and points the naked blade To affront them.

Then, but that the Heaven-taught seer Warned him that each was but an empty shade, A shapeless soul, vain onset he had made, And slashed the shadows.

So he checked his hand, And past the gateway in the gloom they strayed Through Tartarus to Acheron's dark strand, Where thick the whirlpool boils, and voids the seething sand XLI.