"Ask not what pain; what fortune or what fate O'erwhelmed them, nor their torments seek to know.
These roll uphill a rock's enormous weight, Those, hung on wheels, are racked with endless woe.
There, too, for ever, as the ages flow, Sad Theseus sits, and through the darkness cries Unhappy Phlegyas to the shades below, 'Learn to be good; take warning and be wise; Learn to revere the gods, nor heaven's commands despise.' LXXXIII.

"There stands the traitor, who his country sold, A tyrant's bondage for his land prepared; Made laws, unmade them, for a bribe of gold.
With lawless lust a daughter's shame he shared; All dared huge crimes, and compassed what they dared.
Ne'er had a hundred mouths, if such were mine, Nor hundred tongues their endless sins declared, Nor iron voice their torments could define, Or tell what doom to each the avenging gods assign.
LXXXIV.

"But haste we," adds the Sibyl; "onward hold The way before thee, and thy task pursue.
Forged in the Cyclops' furnaces, behold Yon walls and fronting archway, full in view.
Leave there thy gift and pay the God his due." She spake, and thither through the dark they paced, And reached the gateway.

He, with lustral dew Self-sprinkled, seized the entrance, and in haste High o'er the fronting door the fateful offering placed.
LXXXV.

These dues performed, they reach the realms of rest, Fortunate groves, where happy souls repair, And lawns of green, the dwellings of the blest.
A purple light, a more abundant air Invest the meadows.