From within Loud groans are heard, and wailings of dismay, The whistling scourge, the fetter's clank and din, Shrieks, as of tortured fiends, and all the sounds of sin.
LXXIV.

Aghast, AEneas listens to the cries.
"O maid," he asks, "what crimes are theirs?
What pain Do they endure?
what wailings rend the skies ?" Then she: "Famed Trojan, this accursed domain None chaste may enter; so the Fates ordain.
Great Hecate herself, when here below She made me guardian of Avernus' reign, Led me through all the region, fain to show The tortures of the gods, the various forms of woe.
LXXV.

"Here Cretan Rhadamanthus, strict and stern, His kingdom holds.

Each trespass, now confessed, He hears and punishes; each tells in turn The sin, with idle triumph long suppressed, Till death has bared the secrets of the breast.
Swift at the guilty, as he stands and quakes, Leaps fierce Tisiphone, for vengeance prest, And calls her sisters; o'er the wretch she shakes The torturing scourge aloft, and waves the twisted snakes.
LXXVI.

"Then, opening slow, on horrid hinges grate The doors accursed.