But now in the shadows
It goes to the bourne
Of Orcus remorseless
Whence none may return.[Qui nunc it per iter tenebricosum
Illuc unde negant redire quemquam.]Catullus (c. 84 BC – c. 54 BC) Latin poet [Gaius Valerius Catullus]
Carmina # 3 “Death of the Sparrow,” ll. 11-12 [tr. Wright (1926), st. 4]
(Source)
Referring to the fate of his beloved Lesbia's beloved sparrow.
See also Shakepeare, Hamlet, Art 3, ll. 86-88.
Death,
That undiscover'd country, from whose bourn
No traveler returns.
There is no particular evidence that Shakespeare ever read Catullus, but other ancients (e.g., Seneca) quoted these lines from this Carmina. At the same time, post-Shakespearean translators may have been themselves influenced by the Bard's lines in their translations.
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
Poor bird! who now that darksome bourn
Hast pass'd, whence none can e'er return.
[tr. Nott (1795), ll. 13-14]
He now that gloomy path must trace,
Whence Fate permits return to none.
[tr. Lamb (1821), st. 3]
Now he treads that gloomy track,
Whence none ever may come back.
[tr. T. Martin (1861)]
Now to that dreary bourn
Whence none can e'er return,
Poor little sparrow wings his weary flight.
[tr. Cranstoun (1867)]
Now he wendeth along the mirky pathway,
Whence, they tell us, is hopeless all returning.
[tr. Ellis (1871)]
Now he has gone to that dark place,
Whose dismal pathway none retrace.
[tr. Bliss (1872)]
Now must he wander o'er the darkling way
Thither, whence life-return the Fates denay.
[tr. Burton (1893)]
Now it fares along that path of shadows from where nothing may ever return.
[tr. Smithers (1894)]
Now, hs pretty doings o'er,
His little soul goes darkling whither all
Must go, and, going, may return no more.
[tr. Harman (1897)]
Now he goes along the dark road, thither whence they say no one returns.
[tr. Warre Cornish (1904)]
The wee thing’s gane the shadowy road
That’s never traveled back by ony:
[tr. Davies (1912)]
Now he travels the path of shadows, to that place, whence all men agree there is no return.
[tr. Stuttaford (1912)]
Now does it seek the darksome way,
Whence none return nor message bring.
[tr. Stewart (1915), st. 4]
Now he's journeying through the eternal
Darkness, to the relentless shades.
[tr. Symons-Jeune (1923), st. 4]
And now he journeys whence they say
No steps retrace the darkling way.
[tr. MacNaghten (1925)]
Now he is gone; poor creature,
lost in darkness,
to a sad place
from which no one returns.
[tr. Gregory (1931), st. 3]
Who now? It's hard to walk through tenebrous flume
down there, where it is granted not one comes back.
[tr. Zukofsky (1959)]
It now flits off on its way, goes, gloom-laden
down to where -- word is -- there is no returning.
[tr. C. Martin (1979)]
Who now goes through that gloomy journey
from whence they denied anyone returns.
[tr. Sullivan (1997)]
Now he goes down the shadowy road
from which they say no one returns.
[tr. Kline (2001)]
Now he's traveling on that dark-shroud journey whence, they tell us, none of the departed ever returns.
[tr. Green (2005)]
It now goes through the dark journey
to that place from where they deny that anyone returns.
[tr. Wikibooks (2017)]
He who now goes through the shadowy journey
thither, whence they deny that anyone returns.
[tr. Wikisource (2018)]
Quotations about:
underworld
Note not all quotations have been tagged, so Search may find additional quotes on this topic.
These, when a thousand rolling years are o’er,
Called by the God, to Lethe’s waves repair;
There, reft of memory, to yearn once more
For mortal bodies and the upper air.[Has omnis, ubi mille rotam volvere per annos,
Lethaeum ad fluvium deus evocat agmine magno,
Scilicet immemores supera et convexa revisant
Bursus et incipiant in corpora velle reverti.]Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
The Aeneid [Ænē̆is], Book 6, l. 748ff (6.748-751) [Anchises] (29-19 BC) [tr. Taylor (1907), st. 99, l. 883ff]
(Source)
On the reincarnation of most souls, other than those punished in Tartarus or rewarded in Elysium.
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
When thousand yeares have fil'd their period,
All these God calls in troups to Lethe's flood,
To th end that they forgetfull of what's past,
May reascend, and bodies take at last.
[tr. Ogilby (1649)]But, when a thousand rolling years are past,
(So long their punishments and penance last,)
Whole droves of minds are, by the driving god,
Compell'd to drink the deep Lethaean flood,
In large forgetful draughts to steep the cares
Of their past labors, and their irksome years,
That, unrememb'ring of its former pain,
The soul may suffer mortal flesh again.
[tr. Dryden (1697)]
All these, after they have rolled away a thousand years, are summoned forth by the god in a great body to the river Lethe; to the intent that, losing memory, they may revisit the vaulted realms above, and again become willing to return into bodies.
[tr. Davidson/Buckley (1854)]
All these, when centuries ten times told
The wheel of destiny have rolled,
The voice divine from far and wide
Calls up to Lethe's river-side,
That earthward they may pass once more
Remembering not the things before,
And with a blind propension yearn
To fleshly bodies to return.
[tr. Conington (1866)]
All these, when for a thousand years the wheel
Of fate has turned, the Deity calls forth
To Lethe's stream, a mighty multitude;
That they, forgetful of the past, may see
Once more the vaulted sky, and may begin
To wish return into corporeal frames.
[tr. Cranch (1872), l. 933ff]
All these before thee, when the wheel of a thousand years hath come fully round, a God summons in vast train to the river of Lethe, that so they may regain in forgetfulness the slopes of upper earth, and begin to desire to return again into the body.
[tr. Mackail (1885)]
All these who now have turned the wheel for many and many a year
God calleth unto Lethe's flood in mighty company,
That they, remembering nought indeed, the upper air may see
Once more, and long to turn aback to worldly life anew.
[tr. Morris (1900)]
At last, when the millennial aeon strikes,
God calls them forth to yon Lethaean stream,
In numerous host, that thence, oblivious all,
They may behold once more the vaulted sky,
And willingly to shapes of flesh return.
[tr. Williams (1910), l. 747ff]
A thousand years pass over
And the god calls the countless host to Lethe
Where memory is annulled, and souls are willing
Once more to enter into mortal bodies.
[tr. Humphries (1951)]
All these souls, when they have finished their thousand-year cycle,
God sends for, and they come in crowds to the river of Lethe,
So that, you see, with memory washed out, they may revisit
The earth above and begin to wish to be born again.
[tr. Day-Lewis (1952)]
But all the rest, when they have passed time's circle
for a millennium, arfe summoned by
the god to Lethe in a great assembly
that, free of memory, they may return
beneath the curve of the upper world, that they
may once again begin to wish for bodies.
[tr. Mandelbaum (1971), l. 988ff]
These other souls,
When they have turned Time's wheel a thousand years,
The god calls in a crowd to Lethe stream,
There there unmemoried they may see again
The heavens and wish re-entry into bodies.
[tr. Fitzgerald (1981), l. 1004ff]
All these others whom you see, when they have rolled the wheel for a thousand years, are called out by God to come in great columns to the river of Lethe, so that they may duly go back and see the vault of heaven again remembering nothing, and begin to be willing to return to bodies.
[tr. West (1990)]
All these others the god calls in a great crowd to the river Lethe,
after they have turned the wheel for a thousand years,
so that, truly forgetting, they can revisit the vault above,
and begin with a desire to return to the flesh.
[tr. Kline (2002)]
All these,
When they have rolled the wheel of time
Through a thousand years, will be called by God
In a great assembly to the river Lethe,
So that they return to the vaulted world
With no memory and may begin again
To desire rebirth in a human body.
[tr. Lombardo (2005)]
All the rest, once they have turned the wheel of time
for a thousand years: God calls them forth to the Lethe,
great armies of souls, their memories blank so that
they may revisit the overarching world once more
and begin to long to return to bodies yet again.
[tr. Fagles (2006), l. 865ff]
When the rest have cycled through a thousand years, the god calls them in clusters to the river Lethe. These forgetful spirits hope for resurrection into bodies. They start to want to see the sky.
[tr. Bartsch (2021)]
Now of a sudden Aeneas looked and saw
To the left, under a cliff, wide buildings girt
By a triple wall round which a torrent rushed
With scorching flames and boulders tossed in thunder,
The abyss’s Fiery River. A massive gate
With adamantine pillars faced the stream,
So strong no force of men or gods in war
May ever avail to crack and bring it down,
And high in air an iron tower stands
On which Tisiphone, her bloody robe
Pulled up about her, has her seat and keeps
Unsleeping watch over the entrance way
By day and night. From the interior, groans
Are heard, and thud of lashes, clanking iron,
Dragging chains.[Respicit Aeneas subito, et sub rupe sinistra
moenia lata videt, triplici circumdata muro,
quae rapidus flammis ambit torrentibus amnis,
Tartareus Phlegethon, torquetque sonantia saxa.
Porta adversa ingens, solidoque adamante columnae,
vis ut nulla virum, non ipsi exscindere bello
caelicolae valeant; stat ferrea turris ad auras,
Tisiphoneque sedens, palla succincta cruenta,
vestibulum exsomnis servat noctesque diesque,
Hinc exaudiri gemitus, et saeva sonare
verbera; tum stridor ferri, tractaeque catenae.]Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
The Aeneid [Ænē̆is], Book 6, l. 548ff (6.548-560) (29-19 BC) [tr. Fitzgerald (1981), l. 735ff]
(Source)
Tartarus, the Underworld place of punishment for the damned.
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
On his left side,
Aeneas then under a Rock espide
A mighty fort surrounded with three walls,
Where Phlegeton with a swift current falls
Of flaming waves: rowling huge stones along,
The gates on adamatine pillars hung;
No strength of men, of steel, nor gods, has power
This to destroy, high stands the brazen towre.
Girt in a bloody robe Tisiphone keeps
The entrance night and day, and never sleeps.
Hence cruel lashes sound and groaning pains,
Clashing of steel, and ratling of huge chains.
[tr. Ogilby (1649)]
The hero, looking on the left, espied
A lofty tow'r, and strong on ev'ry side
With treble walls, which Phlegethon surrounds,
Whose fiery flood the burning empire bounds;
And, press'd betwixt the rocks, the bellowing noise resounds
Wide is the fronting gate, and, rais'd on high
With adamantine columns, threats the sky.
Vain is the force of man, and Heav'n's as vain,
To crush the pillars which the pile sustain.
Sublime on these a tow'r of steel is rear'd;
And dire Tisiphone there keeps the ward,
Girt in her sanguine gown, by night and day,
Observant of the souls that pass the downward way.
From hence are heard the groans of ghosts, the pains
Of sounding lashes and of dragging chains.
[tr. Dryden (1697)]
Aeneas on a sudden looks back, and under a rock on the left sees vast prisons enclosed with a triple wall, which Tartarean Phlegethon's rapid flood environs with torrents of flame, and whirls roaring rocks along. Fronting is a huge gate, with columns of solid adamant, that no strength of men, nor the gods themselves, can with steel demolish. An iron tower rises aloft; and there wakeful Tisiphone, with ehr bloody robe tucked up around her, sits to watch the vestibule both night and day. Hence groans are heard; the grating too of iron, and clank of dragging chains.
[tr. Davidson/Buckley (1854)]
Sudden Æneas turns his eyes,
When 'neath the left-hand cliff he spies
The bastions of a broad stronghold,
Engirt with walls of triple fold:
Fierce Phlegethon surrounds the same,
Foaming aloft with torrent flame,
And whirls his roaring rocks:
In front a portal stands displayed,
On adamantine columns stayed:
Nor mortal nor immortal foe
Those massy gates could overthrow
With battle's direst shocks.
An iron tower of equal might
In air uprises steep:
Tisiphone, in red robes dight,
Sits on the threshold day and night
With eyes that know not sleep.
Hark! from within there issue groans,
The cracking of the thong,
The clank of iron o'er the stones
Dragged heavily along.
[tr. Conington (1866)]
Then suddenly Aeneas, looking back,
Beneath a cliff upon the left beholds
A prison vast with triple ramparts girt,
Bound which Tartarean Phlegethon, with surge
Of foaming torrents, raves, and thundering whirl
Of rocks. A gateway huge in front is seen,
With columns of the solid adamant.
No strength of man, or even of gods, avails
Against it. Rising in the air a tower
Of iron appears: there sits Tisiphone,
Tucked in her blood-stained robes, and night and day
Guarding the entrance with her sleepless eyes.
Groans from within were heard; the cruel lash.
Then clank of iron, and of dragging chains.
[tr. Cranch (1872), l. 680ff]
Aeneas looks swiftly back, and sees beneath the cliff on the left hand a wide city, girt with a triple wall and encircled by a racing river of boiling flame, Tartarean Phlegethon, that echoes over its rolling rocks. In front is the gate, huge and pillared with solid adamant, that no warring force of men nor the very habitants of heaven may avail to overthrow; it stands up a tower of iron, and Tisiphone sitting girt in bloodstained pall keeps sleepless watch at the entry by night and day. Hence moans are heard and fierce lashes resound, with the clank of iron and dragging chains.
[tr. Mackail (1885)]
But suddenly Æneas turned, and lo, a city lay
Wide-spread 'neath crags upon the left, girt with a wall threefold;
And round about in hurrying flood a flaming river rolled,
E'en Phlegethon of Tartarus, with rattling, stony roar:
In face with adamantine posts was wrought the mighty door,
Such as no force of men nor might of heaven-abiders high
May cleave with steel; an iron tower thence riseth to the sky:
And there is set Tisiphone, with girded blood-stained gown,
Who, sleepless, holdeth night and day the doorway of the town.
Great wail and cruel sound of stripes that city sendeth out,
And iron clanking therewithal of fetters dragged about.
[tr. Morris (1900), l. 548ff]
Back looked Æneas, and espied
Broad bastions, girt with triple wall, that frowned
Beneath a rock to leftward, and the tide
Of torrent Phlegethon, that flamed around,
And made the beaten rocks rebellow with the sound.
In front, a massive gateway threats the sky,
And posts of solid adamant upstay
An iron tower, firm-planted to defy
All force, divine or human. Night and day,
Sleepless Tisiphone defends the way,
Girt up with bloody garments. 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.
[tr. Taylor (1907), st. 72-73; l. 644ff]
Aeneas straightway by the leftward cliff
Beheld a spreading rampart, high begirt
With triple wall, and circling round it ran
A raging river of swift floods of flame,
Infernal Phlegethon, which whirls along
Loud-thundering rocks. A mighty gate is there
Columned in adamant; no human power,
Nor even the gods, against this gate prevail.
Tall tower of steel it has; and seated there
Tisiphone, in blood-flecked pall arrayed,
Sleepless forever, guards the entering way.
Hence groans are heard, fierce cracks of lash and scourge,
Loud-clanking iron links and trailing chains.
[tr. Williams (1910)]
Suddenly Aeneas looks back, and under a cliff on the left sees a broad castle, girt with triple wall and encircled with a rushing flood of torrent flames -- Tartarean Phlegethon, that rolls along thundering rocks. In front stands the huge gate, and pillars of solid adamant, that no might of man, nay, not even the sons of heaven, may uproot in war; there stands the iron tower, soaring high, and Tisiphone, sitting girt with bloody pall, keeps sleepless watch o'er the portal night and day. Therefrom are heard groans and the sound of the savage lash; withal, the clank of iron and dragging of chains.
[tr. Fairclough (1916)]
As he looked back, Aeneas saw, to his left,
Wide walls beneath a cliff, a triple rampart,
A river running fire, Phlegethon’s torrent,
Rocks roaring in its course, a gate, tremendous,
Pillars of adamant, a tower of iron,
Too strong for men, too strong for even gods
To batter down in warfare, and behind them
A Fury, sentinel in bloody garments,
Always on watch, by day, by night. He heard
Sobbing and groaning there, the crack of the lash,
The clank of iron, the sound of dragging shackles.
[tr. Humphries (1951)]
Aeneas looked back on a sudden: he saw to his left a cliff
Overhanging with a spread of battlements, a threefold wall about them,
Girdled too by a swift-running stream, a flaming torrent --
Hell's river of fire, whose current rolls clashing rocks along.
In front, an enormous portal, the door-posts columns of adamant,
So strong that no mortal violence nor even the heaven-dwellers
Can broach it: an iron tower stands sheer and soaring above it,
Whereupon Tisiphone sits, wrapped in a bloodstained robe,
Sleeplessly, day-long, night-long, guarding the forecourt there.
From within can be heard the sounds of groaning and brutal lashing,
Sounds of clanking iron, of chains being dragged along.
[tr. Day-Lewis (1952)]
Aeneas suddenly looks back; beneath
a rock upon his left he sees a broad
fortress encircled by a triple wall
and girdled by a rapid flood of flames
that rage: Tartarean Phlegethon whirling
resounding rocks. A giant gateway stands
in front, with solid adamantine pillars --
no force of man, not even heaven's sons,
enough to level these in war; a tower
of iron rises in the air; there sits
Tisiphone, who wears a bloody mantle.
She guards the entrance, sleepless night and day.
Both groans and savage scourgings echo there,
and then the clang of iron and dragging chains.
[tr. Mandelbaum (1971), l. 725ff]
Aeneas looked back suddenly and saw under a cliff on his left hand a broad city encircled by a triple wall and washed all round by Phlegethon, one of the rivers of Tartarus, a torrent of fire and flame, rolling and grinding great boulders in its current. There before him stood a huge gate with columns of solid adamant so strong that neither the violence of men nor the heavenly gods themselves could ever uproot them in war, and an iron tower rose into the air where Tisiphone sat with her blood-soaked dress girt up, guarding the entreance and never sleeping, night or day. They could hear the groands from the city, the cruel crack of the lash, the dragging and clanking of iron chains.
[tr. West (1990)]
Aeneas suddenly looked back, and, below the left hand cliff,
he saw wide battlements, surrounded by a triple wall,
and encircled by a swift river of red-hot flames,
the Tartarean Phlegethon, churning with echoing rocks.
A gate fronts it, vast, with pillars of solid steel,
that no human force, not the heavenly gods themselves,
can overturn by war: an iron tower rises into the air,
and seated before it, Tisiphone, clothed in a blood-wet dress,
keeps guard of the doorway, sleeplessly, night and day.
Groans came from there, and the cruel sound of the lash,
then the clank of iron, and dragging chains.
[tr. Kline (2002)]
Aeneas
suddenly glances back and beneath a cliff to the left
he sees an enormous fortress ringed with triple walls
and raging around it all, a blazing flood of lava,
Tartarus’ River of Fire, whirling thunderous boulders.
Before it rears a giant gate, its columns solid adamant,
so no power of man, not even the gods themselves
can root it out in war. An iron tower looms on high
where Tisiphone, crouching with bloody shroud girt up,
never sleeping, keeps her watch at the entrance night and day.
Groans resound from the depths, the savage crack of the lash,
the grating creak of iron, the clank of dragging chains.
[tr. Fagles (2006), l. 637ff]
Aeneas stole a quick glance back. To the left, under a cliff, was a massive fortress ringed with triple walls and a raging moat of fire: Phlegethon, hurling thunderous rocks. In front, a giant gate and adamantine pillars. No human force, not even warring gods, could rip them out. An iron tower reached the sky. There Tisiphone crouched wakefully, her bloody cloak hitched high. She watched the entrance day and night. You could hear groans and savage lash-strokes, irons clanking, chains being dragged.
[tr. Bartsch (2021)]
There, steering toward us in an ancient ferry
came an old man with a white bush of hair,
bellowing: “Woe to you depraved souls! Bury
here and forever all hope of Paradise:
I come to lead you to the other shore,
into eternal dark, into fire and ice.”[Ed ecco verso noi venir per nave
un vecchio, bianco per antico pelo,
gridando: “Guai a voi, anime prave!
Non isperate mai veder lo cielo:
i’ vegno per menarvi a l’altra riva
ne le tenebre etterne, in caldo e ’n gelo.]Dante Alighieri (1265-1321) Italian poet
The Divine Comedy [Divina Commedia], Book 1 “Inferno,” Canto 3, l. 82ff (3.82-87) [Charon] (1309) [tr. Ciardi (1954), l. 79ff]
(Source)
(Source (Italian)). Alternate translations:
Lo, rowing tow'rds us was one white with age,
And bawling out, "woe do you Souls deprav'd,
Heaven expects you not e'er more to see;
I come to waft you to another coast,
Where are eternal Darkness, Heat, and Frost."
[tr. Rogers (1782), l. 68ff]
Far off exclaim'd the grizzly mariner,
"Hither, ye Denizens of Hell, repair!
The Stygian barque her wonted load requires;
For you diurnal stars beignant beam,
Prepare ye now to feel the fierce extreme
Of frost corrosive, and outrageous fire."
[tr. Boyd (1802), st. 19]
And lo! toward us in a bark
Comes on an old man hoary white with eld,
Crying, "Woe to you wicked spirits! hope not
Ever to see the sky again. I come
To take you to the other shore across,
Into eternal darkness, there to dwell
In fierce heat and in ice.
[tr. Cary (1814)]
When lo! to meet us came
An ancient boatman, hoar with many a year.
Crying, "Woe to you, souls of evil name!
Ne'er hope to see the bright celestial sphere:
I come to waft you to another shore,
Where, cold or heat, still endless night is near.
[tr. Dayman (1843)]
And lo! an old man, white with ancient hair, comes towards us in a bark, shouting, "Woe to you, depraved spirits!
hope not ever to see Heaven: I come to lead you to the other shore; into the eternal darkness; into fire and into ice."
[tr. Carlyle (1849)]
And lo! towards us came one in a bark,
Whose head with hoar antiquity was white,
Cried, "Wow! Ye wicked souls, no more for heaven,
I come to lead you to yon other hold --
Darkness eternal, and to hot and cold!
[tr. Bannerman (1850)]
And lo! towards us in a bark approach'd
An aged man and white with hoary hair
Crying -- "Woe, woe to you, ye wicked souls!
Hope not that you can ever Heaven behold;
I come to guide you to the other shore,
To night eternal, endless cold and heat.
[tr. Johnston (1867), l. 92ff]
And lo! towards us coming in a boat
An old man, hoary with the hair of eld,
Crying: "Woe unto you, ye souls depraved!
Hope nevermore to look upon the heavens;
I come to lead you to the other shore,
To the eternal shades in heat and frost."
[tr. Longfellow (1867)]
And behold came towards us in a boat an old man white by reason of ancient hair, crying, ‘Woe to you, perverse souls! Hope not again to see the sky; I come to bring you to the other bank, among the eternal gloom, to heat and to cold."
[tr. Butler (1885)]
When lo! upon a bark there towards us came
A very old man, with age-whitened hair.
Crying aloud, "Ah, woe, ye souls of shame!
Hope not again to see the sky so fair.
I come to take ye to the other side.
To shades eterne of heat and freezing there."
[tr. Minchin (1885)]
And lo! coming toward us in a boat, an old man, white with ancient hair, crying, “Woe to you, wicked souls! hope not ever to see Heaven! I come to carry you to the other bank, into eternal darkness, to heat and frost.
[tr. Norton (1892)]
And lo! an old man, hoary with ancient locks, draweth towards us in a boat, crying out: "Curse on you, sinful souls! Never hope to see the sky! I am coming to ferry you to the other shore, into the darkness that is for ever, into flame and into frost."
[tr. Sullivan (1893)]
And lo! towards us coming in a vessel
An old man, whom his ancient locks made hoary,
Crying out : "Woe to you, ye souls unrighteous;
Cherish not hope of ever seeing heaven;
Unto the other bank I come to take you,
To heat and frost, in the eternal darkness."
[tr. Griffith (1908)]
And lo, coming towards us in a boat, an old man, his hair white with age, crying: "Woe to you, wicked souls, hope not ever to see the sky. I am come to bring you to the other bank, into the eternal shades, into fire and frost."
[tr. Sinclair (1939)]
And toward us lo! arriving in a boat
An Ancient, white with hair upon him old,
Crying, "Woe to you, ye spirits misbegot!
Hope not that heaven ye ever shall behold.
I come to carry you to yon shore, and lead
Into the eternal darkness, heat and cold."
[tr. Binyon (1943)]
When from the far bank lo!
A boat shot forth, whose white-haired boatman old
Bawled as he came: "Woe to the wicked! Woe!
Never you hope to look on Heaven -- behold!
I come to ferry you hence across the tide
To endless night, fierce fires and shramming cold."
[tr. Sayers (1949)]
And behold, an old man, his hair white with age, coming towards us in a boat and shouting, "Woe to you, wicked souls! Do not hope to see Heaven ever! I come to carry you to the other shore, into eternal darkness, into fire and cold."
[tr. Singleton (1970)]
And suddenly, coming towards us in a boat,
a man of years who ancient hair was white
screamed at us, "Woe to you, perverted souls!
Give up all hope of every seeing heaven:
I come to lead you to the other shore,
into eternal darkness, ice and fire."
[tr. Musa (1971)]
And here, advancing toward us, in a boat,
an aged man -- his hair was white with years --
was shouting: "Woe to you, corrupted souls!
Forget your hope of ever seeing Heaven:
I come to lead you to the other shore,
to the eternal dark, to fire and frost."
[tr. Mandelbaum (1980)]
And then, there came towards us in a boat
An old man who was white with brittle hair,
Calling out: "Woe to you, perverse spirits!
You need not hope that you will ever see heaven;
I have come to take you to the other side,
Into eternal darkness, fire and ice."
[tr. Sisson (1981)]
Then, at the river -- an old man in a boat:
White-haired, as he drew closer, shouting at us,
"Woe to you, wicked souls! Give up the thought
Of Heaven! I come to ferry you across
Into eternal dark on the opposite side,
Into fire and ice!"
[tr. Pinsky (1994), l. 67ff]
And behold coming toward us in a boat an old man, white with the hairs of age, crying, "Woe to you, wicked souls!
Never hope to see the sky: I come to lead you to the other shore, to the eternal shadows, to heat and freezing."
[tr. Durling (1996)]
And see, an old man, with white hoary locks, came towards us in a boat, shouting: "Woe to you, wicked spirits! Never hope to see heaven: I come to carry you to the other shore, into eternal darkness, into fire and ice."
[tr. Kline (2002)]
Then lo! as we approached the place, a boat
materialized, manned by a hoary boatman.
"Woe to ye!" he roared, "abandon hope!
I come to lead you to the dark dominion
of the other shore: into eternal shades of ice and fire,
where no pain is forgotten."
[tr. Carson (2002)]
Look now! Towards us in a boat there came
an old man, yelling, hair all white and aged,
"Degenerates! Your fate is sealed! Cry woe!
Don't hope you'll ever see the skies again!
I'm here to lead you to the farther shore,
into eternal shadow, heat and chill."
[tr. Kirkpatrick (2006)]
And now, coming toward us in a boat,
an old man, his hair white with age, cried out:
"Woe unto you, you wicked souls,
give up all hope of ever seeing Heaven.
I come to take you to the other shore,
into eternal darkness, into heat and chill."
[tr. Hollander/Hollander (2007)]
And suddenly a boat, and an old man in it,
Came gliding through the misty air, approaching
The shore. "Ah!" he shouted, "All you wicked
Souls! Don't wish for a Heaven you have no hope
Of ever seeing! I'm here to take you over
The river, to eternal darkness, to fire and cold."
[tr. Raffel (2010)]
Where suddenly an old man in a boat
Headed towards us, tossing his white hair
As he cried, "Woe to you and to your souls!
Give up your hopes of Heaven! I have come
To take you to the other side. Hot coals
And ice await, to brand you and benumb
In everlasting shadow."
[tr. James (2013), l. 114ff]
Charon is here,
The guardian of these mingling waters, Charon,
Uncouth and filthy, on whose chin the hair
Is a tangled mat, whose eyes protrude, are burning,
Whose dirty cloak is knotted at the shoulder.
He poles a boat, tends to the sail, unaided,
Ferrying bodies in his rust-hued vessel.
Old, but a god’s senility is awful
In its raw greenness.[Portitor has horrendus aquas et flumina servat
terribili squalore Charon, cui plurima mento
canities inculta iacet; stant lumina flamma,
sordidus ex umeris nodo dependet amictus.
Ipse ratem conto subigit, velisque ministrat,
et ferruginea subvectat corpora cymba,
iam senior, sed cruda deo viridisque senectus.]Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
The Aeneid [Ænē̆is], Book 6, l. 298ff (6.298-304) (29-19 BC) [tr. Humphries (1951)]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
Charon the horrid ferry-man these deeps,
With dreadful squallidnesse, and river keeps.
His untrim'd cheeks were rough with hoary hair,
Knotty his beard, his fiery eyes did stare,
Tye'd on his shoulders hung a sordid coat;
He trims his sails, drives with a pole his boat,
And in his rusty bark wafts Passengers;
The God was youthful still, though struck in years.
[tr. Ogilby (1649)]
There Charon stands, who rules the dreary coast --
A sordid god: down from his hoary chin
A length of beard descends, uncomb'd, unclean;
His eyes, like hollow furnaces on fire;
A girdle, foul with grease, binds his obscene attire.
He spreads his canvas; with his pole he steers;
The freights of flitting ghosts in his thin bottom bears.
He look'd in years; yet in his years were seen
A youthful vigor and autumnal green.
[tr. Dryden (1697)]
A grim ferryman guards these floods and rivers, Charon, of frightful slovenliness; on whose chin a load of grey hair neglected lies; his eyes are flame: his vestments hang from his shoulders by a knot, with filth overgrown. Himself thrust on the barge with a pole, and tends the sails, and wafts over the bodies in his iron-coloured boat, now in years: but the god is of fresh and green old age.
[tr. Davidson/Buckley (1854)]
Grim, squalid, foul, with aspect dire,
His eye-balls each a globe of fire,
The watery passage Charon keeps,
Sole warden of those murky deeps:
A sordid mantle round him thrown
Girds breast and shoulder like a zone.
He plies the pole with dexterous ease,
Or sets the sail to catch the breeze,
Ferrying the legions of the dead
In bark of dusky iron-red,
Now marked with age; but heavenly powers
Have fresher, greener eld than ours.
[tr. Conington (1866)]
By these dread rivers waits the ferryman
Squalid and grim, Charon, his grisly beard
Uncombed and thick ; his eyes are flaming lamps;
A filthy garment from his shoulders hangs.
He tends his sails, and with his pole propels
His barge of dusky iron hue, that bears
The dead across the river. Old he seems,
But with a green old age.
[tr. Cranch (1872)]
Charon, the dread ferryman, guards these flowing streams, ragged and awful, his chin covered with untrimmed masses of hoary hair, and his glassy eyes aflame; his soiled raiment hangs knotted from his shoulders. Himself he plies the pole and trims the sails of his vessel, the steel-blue galley with freight of dead; stricken now in years, but a god's old age is lusty and green.
[tr. Mackail (1885)]
This flood and river's ferrying doth Charon take in hand,
Dread in his squalor: on his chin untrimmed the hoar hair lies
Most plenteous; and unchanging flame bides in his staring eyes:
Down from his shoulders hangs his gear in filthy knot upknit;
And he himself poles on his ship, and tends the sails of it,
And crawls with load of bodies lost in bark all iron-grey,
Grown old by now: but fresh and green is godhead's latter day.
[tr. Morris (1900), l. 298ff]
Charon there,
Grim ferryman, stands sentry. Mean his guise,
His chin a wilderness of hoary hair,
And like a flaming furnace stare his eyes.
Hung in a loop around his shoulders lies
A filthy gaberdine. He trims the sail,
And, pole in hand, across the water plies
His steel-grey shallop with the corpses pale,
Old, but a god's old age has left him green and hale.
[tr. Taylor (1907), st. 41, l. 361ff]
A ferryman of gruesome guise keeps ward
Upon these waters, -- Charon, foully garbed,
With unkempt, thick gray beard upon his chin,
And staring eyes of flame; a mantle coarse,
All stained and knotted, from his shoulder falls,
As with a pole he guides his craft, tends sail,
And in the black boat ferries o'er his dead; --
Old, but a god's old age looks fresh and strong.
[tr. Williams (1910)]
A grim warden guards these waters and streams, terrible in his squalor -- Charon, on whose chin lies a mass of unkempt, hoary hair; his eyes are staring orbs of flame; his squalid garb hangs by a knot from his shoulders. Unaided, he poles the boat, tends the sails, and in his murky craft convoys the dead -- now aged, but a god's old age is hardy and green.
[tr. Fairclough (1916)]
A dreadful ferryman looks after the river crossing,
Charon: appallingly filthy he is, with a bush of unkempt
White beard upon his chin, with eyes like jets of fire;
And a dirty cloak draggles down, knotted about his shoulders.
He poles the boat, he looks after the sails, he is all the crew
Of that rust-coloured wherry which takes the dead across --
An ancient now, but a god's old age is green and sappy.
[tr. Day-Lewis (1952)]
Grim Charon is the squalid ferryman,
is guardian of these streams, these rivers; his
white hairs lie thick, disheveled on his chin;
his eyes are firest that stare, a filthy mantle
hangs down his shoulder by a knot. Alone,
he poles the boat and tends the sails and carries
the dead in his dark ship, old as he is;
but old age in a god is tough and green.
[tr. Mandelbaum (1971), l. 394ff.]
Here the ferryman,
A figure of fright, keeper of waters and streams,
Is Charon, fowl and terrible, his beard
Grown wild and hoar, his staring eyes all flame,
His sordid cloak hung from a shoulder knot.
Alone he poles his craft and trims the sail
And in his rusty hull ferries the dead,
Old now -- but old age in the gods is green.
[tr. Fitzgerald (1981), l. 407ff]
These are the rivers and waters guarded by the terrible Charon in his filthy rags. On his chin there grows a thick grey beard, never trimmed. His glaring eyes are lit with fire and a foul cloak hangs from a knot at his shoulder. With his own hands he plies the pole and sees to the sails as he ferries the dead in a boat the colour of burnt iron. He is no longer young but, being a god, enjoys rude strength and a green old age.
[tr. West (1990)]
A grim ferryman watches over the rivers and streams,
Charon, dreadful in his squalor, with a mass of unkempt
white hair straggling from his chin: flames glow in his eyes,
a dirty garment hangs, knotted from his shoulders.
He poles the boat and trims the sails himself,
and ferries the dead in his dark skiff,
old now, but a god’s old age is fresh and green.
[tr. Kline (2002)]
The keeper of these waters
Was Charon, the grim ferryman, frightening
In his squalor. Unkempt hoary whiskers
Bristled on his chin,m his eyes like flares
Were sunk in flame, and a filhy cloak hung
By a knot from his shoulder. He poled the boat
Himself, and trimmed the sails, hauling the dead
In his rusty barge. He was already old,
But a god's old age is green and raw.
[tr. Lombardo (2005), l. 367ff]
And here the dreaded ferryman guards the flood,
grisly in his squalor -- Charon ...
his scraggly beard a tangled mat of white, his eyes
fixed in a fiery stare, and his grimy rags hang down
from his shoulders by a knot. But all on his own
he punts his craft with a pole and hoists sail
as he ferries the dead souls in his rust-red skiff.
He’s on in years, but a god’s old age is hale and green.
[tr. Fagles (2006), l. 340ff]
Filthy Charon, wearing rags, ferried ghosts across the sxtream. His lengthy beard was matted stiff, his eyes stared fixed and fierce. A dirty wrap was tied around his neck. He poled the boat himself, tending to the sails, toting bodies in the dingy raft. He was old, but it was the green and raw old age of gods.
[tr. Bartsch (2021)]
In the throat
Of Hell, before the very vestibule
Of opening Orcus, sit Remorse and Grief,
And pale Disease, and sad Old Age, and Fear,
And Hunger that persuades to crime, and Want,
Forms terrible to see. Suffering and Death
Inhabit here, and Death’s own brother, Sleep;
And the mind’s evil Lusts, and deadly War
Lie at the threshold, and the iron beds
Of the Eumenides; and Discord wild,
Her viper-locks with bloody fillets bound.[Vestibulum ante ipsum, primisque in faucibus Orci
Luctus et ultrices posuere cubilia Curae;
pallentesque habitant Morbi, tristisque Senectus,
et Metus, et malesuada Fames, ac turpis Egestas,
terribiles visu formae: Letumque, Labosque;
tum consanguineus Leti Sopor, et mala mentis
Gaudia, mortiferumque adverso in limine Bellum,
ferreique Eumenidum thalami, et Discordia demens,
vipereum crinem vittis innexa cruentis.]Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
The Aeneid [Ænē̆is], Book 6, l. 274ff (6.274-282) (29-19 BC) [tr. Cranch (1872), l. 336ff]
(Source)
The gates of the Underworld, as Aeneas enters.
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
Just at the door, before the gates of hell,
Sorrow repos'd, with her revenging Rage,
Pale sicknesses and discontented age,
Fear, with dire Famine, and base Povertie,
Labour and death, shapes terrible to see.
Then sleep allied to Death, and fond joys are
Plac'd on the other side, with deadly War,
On iron beds, Furies and Discord sit,
Their viperous hair with bloody fillets knit.
[tr. Ogilby (1649)]
Just in the gate and in the jaws of hell,
Revengeful Cares and sullen Sorrows dwell,
And pale Diseases, and repining Age,
Want, Fear, and Famine's unresisted rage;
Here Toils, and Death, and Death's half-brother, Sleep,
Forms terrible to view, their sentry keep;
With anxious Pleasures of a guilty mind,
Deep Frauds before, and open Force behind;
The Furies' iron beds; and Strife, that shakes
Her hissing tresses and unfolds her snakes.
[tr. Dryden (1697)]
Before the vestibule itself, and in the first jaws of hell, Grief and vengeful Cares have placed their couches, and pale Diseases dwell, and disconsolate Old Age, and Fear, and the evil counsellor Famine, and vile deformed Indigence, forms ghastly to the sight! and Death, and Toil; then Sleep, akin to Death, and criminal Joys of the mind; and in the opposite threshold murderous War, and the iron bed-chambers of the Furies, and frantic Discord, having her viperous locks bound with bloody fillets.
[tr. Davidson/Buckley (1854)]
At Orcus' portals hold their lair
Wild Sorrow and avenging Care;
And pale Diseases cluster there,
And pleasureless Decay,
Foul Penury, and Fears that kill,
And Hunger, counsellor of ill,
A ghastly presence they:
Suffering and Death the threshold keep,
And with them Death's blood-brother, Sleep:
Ill Joys with their seducing spells
And deadly War are at the door;
The Furies couch in iron cells,
And Discord maddens and rebels;
Her snake-locks hiss, her wreaths drip gore.
[tr. Conington (1866)]
Right in front of the doorway and in the entry of the jaws of hell Grief and avenging Cares have made their bed; there dwell wan Sicknesses and gloomy Eld, and Fear, and ill-counselling Hunger, and loathly Want, shapes terrible to see; and Death and Travail, and thereby Sleep, Death's kinsman, and the Soul's guilty Joys, and death-dealing War full in the gateway, and the Furies in their iron cells, and mad Discord with bloodstained fillets enwreathing her serpent locks.
[tr. Mackail (1885)]
Lo, in the first of Orcus' jaws, close to the doorway side,
The Sorrows and Avenging Griefs have set their beds to bide;
There the pale kin of Sickness dwells, and Eld, the woeful thing,
And Fear, and squalid-fashioned Lack, and witless Hungering,
Shapes terrible to see with eye; and Toil of Men, and Death,
And Sleep, Death's brother, and the Lust of Soul that sickeneth:
And War, the death-bearer, was set full in the threshold's way,
And those Well-willers' iron beds: there heartless Discord lay,
Whose viper-breeding hair about was bloody-filleted.
[tr. Morris (1900), l. 272ff]
Before the threshold, in the jaws of Hell,
Grief spreads her pillow, with remorseful Care.
There sad Old Age and pale Diseases dwell,
And misconceiving Famine, Want and Fear,
Terrific shapes, and Death and Toil appear.
Death's kinsman, Sleep, and Joys of sinful kind,
And deadly War crouch opposite, and here
The Furies' iron chamber, Discord blind
And Strife, her viperous locks with gory fillets twined.
[tr. Taylor (1907), st. 38, l. 334]
In the first courts and entrances of Hell
Sorrows and vengeful Cares on couches lie:
There sad Old Age abides, Diseases pale,
And Fear, and Hunger, temptress to all crime;
Want, base and vile, and, two dread shapes to see,
Bondage and Death : then Sleep, Death's next of kin;
And dreams of guilty joy. Death-dealing War
Is ever at the doors, and hard thereby
The Furies' beds of steel, where wild-eyed Strife
Her snaky hair with blood-stained fillet binds.
[tr. Williams (1910)]
Just before the entrance, even within the very jaws of Hell, Grief and avenging Cares have made their bed; there pale Diseases dwell, and sad Age, and Fear, and ill-counselling Famine, and loathly Want, shapes terrible to view; and Death and Distress; next, Death's own brother Sleep, and the soul's Guilty Joys, and, on the threshold opposite, the death-bearer War, and the Furies' iron cells, and savage Strife, her snaky locks entwined with bloody fillets.
[tr. Fairclough (1916)]
At the first threshold, on the jaws of Orcus,
Grief and avenging Cares have set their couches,
And pale Diseases dwell, and sad Old Age,
Fear, evil-counselling Hunger, wretched Need,
Forms terrible to see, and Death, and Toil,
And Death’s own brother, Sleep, and evil Joys,
Fantasies of the mind, and deadly War,
The Furies’ iron chambers, Discord, raving,
Her snaky hair entwined in bloody bands.
[tr. Humphries (1951)]
See! At the very porch and entrance way to Orcus
Grief and ever-haunting Anxiety make their bed:
Here dwell pallid Diseases, here morose Old Age,
With Fear, ill-prompting Hunger, and squalid Indigence,
Shapes horrible to look at, Death and Agony;
Sleep, too, which is the cousin of Death; and Guilty Joys,
And there, against the threshold, War, the bringer of Death:
Here are the iron cells of the Furies, and lunatic Strife
Whose viperine hair is caught up with a headband soaked in blood.
[tr. Day-Lewis (1952)]
Before the entrance, at the jaws of Orcus,
both Grief and goading Cares have set their couches;
there pale Diseases dwell, and sad Old Age,
and Fear and Hunger, that worst counselor,
and ugly Poverty -- shapes terrible
to see -- and Death and Trials; Death's brother, Sleep,
and all the evil Pleasures of the mind;
and War, whose fruits are death; and facing these,
the Furies' iron chambers; and mad Strife,
her serpent hair bound up with bloody garlands.
[tr. Mandelbaum (1971), l. 363ff]
Before the entrance, in the jaws of Orcus,
Grief and avenging Cares have made their beds,
And pale Diseases and sad Age are there,
And Dread, and Hunger that sways men to crime,
And sordid Want -- in shapes to affright the eyes --
And Death and Toil and Deaths;s own brother, Sleep,
And the mind's evil joys; on the door sill
Death-bringing War, and iron cubicles
Of the Eumenidës, and raving Discord,
Viperish hair bound up in gory bands.
[tr. Fitzgerald (1981)]
Before the entrance hall of Orcus, in the very throat of hell, Grief and Revenge have made their beds and Old age lives there in despair, with white faced Diseases and Fear and Hunger, corrupter of men, and squalid Poverty, things dreadful to look upon, and Death and Drudgery besides. Then there were Sleep, Death's sister, perverted Pleasures, murderous War astride the threshold, the iron chambers of the Furies and raving Discord with blood-soaked ribbons binding her viperous hair.
[tr. West (1990)]
Right before the entrance, in the very jaws of Orcus,
Grief and vengeful Care have made their beds,
and pallid Sickness lives there, and sad Old Age,
and Fear, and persuasive Hunger, and vile Need,
forms terrible to look on, and Death and Pain:
then Death’s brother Sleep, and Evil Pleasure of the mind,
and, on the threshold opposite, death-dealing War,
and the steel chambers of the Furies, and mad Discord,
her snaky hair entwined with blood-wet ribbons.
[tr. Kline (2002)]
Just before the entrance, in the very jaws
Of Orcus, Grief and avenging Cares
Have set their beds. Pale Diseases
Dwell there, sad Old Age, Fear, Hunger --
The tempter -- and foul Poverty,
All fearful shapes, and Death and Toil,
And Death's brother Sleep, Guilty Joys,
And on the threshold opposite, lethal War,
The Furies in iron cells, and mad Strife,
Her snaky hair entwined with bloody bands.
[tr. Lombardo (2005)]
There in the entryway, the gorge of hell itself,
Grief and the pangs of Conscience make their beds,
and fatal pale Disease lives there, and bleak Old Age,
Dread and Hunger, seductress to crime, and grinding Poverty,
all, terrible shapes to see -- and Death and deadly Struggle
and Sleep, twin brother of Death, and twisted, wicked Joys
and facing them at the threshold, War, rife with death,
and the Furies’ iron chambers, and mad, raging Strife
whose blood-stained headbands knot her snaky locks.
[tr. Fagles (2006), l. 312ff]
At the entrance, in Orcus' very jaws, Grief and vengeful Sorrow made their beds, and Pale Diseases, sad Old Age, and Fear and ill-advising Hunger and shameful Poverty, forms horrible to see, and Death and Suffering, then Death's brother Slumber, and the Joys of evil men. Facing them were murderous War and the Furies' iron chambers and mad Discord, her serpent hair bound up with bloody ribbons.
[tr. Bartsch (2021)]
You gods who hold dominion over spirits,
you voiceless Shades; you, Phlegethon and Chaos,
immense and soundless regions of the night:
allow me to retell what I was told;
allow me by your power to disclose
things buried in the dark and deep of earth![Di, quibus imperium est animarum, umbraeque silentes,
Et Chaos, et Phlegethon, loca nocte tacentia late,
Sit mihi fas audita loqui: sit numine vestro
Pandere res alta terra et caligine mersas.]Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
The Aeneid [Ænē̆is], Book 6, l. 264ff (6.264-267) (29-19 BC) [tr. Mandelbaum (1971), l. 350ff]
(Source)
Virgil, the author, breaking the fourth wall and asking the spirits of the Underworld permission to tell of what happened to Aeneas down there.
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
You Gods who souls command, and silent ghosts,
Phlegeton, Chaos, nights vast dismall coasts.
Grant I declare things heard, by your aid shew
What earth and darknesse long hath hid below.
[tr. Ogilby (1649)]
Ye realms, yet unrevealed to human sight,
Ye gods who rule the regions of the night,
Ye gliding ghosts, permit me to relate
The mystic wonders of your silent state!
[tr. Dryden (1697)]
Ye gods, to whom the empire of ghosts belong, and ye silent shades, and Chaos, and Phlegethon, places where silence reigns around in night! permit me to utter the secrets heard; may I by your divine will disclose things buried in deep earth and darkness.
[tr. Davidson/Buckley (1854)]
Eternal Powers, whose sway controls
The empire of departed souls,
Ye too, throughout whose wide domain
Blank Night and grisly Silence reign,
Hoar Chaos, awful Phlegethon,
What ear has heard let tongue make known:
Vouchsafe your sanction, nor forbid
To utter things in darkness hid.
[tr. Conington (1866)]
Ye deities, whose empire is of souls!
Ye silent Shades, -- Chaos and Phlegethon!
Ye wide dumb spaces stretching through the night!
Be it lawful that I speak what I have heard,
And by your will divine unfold the things
Buried in gloomy depths of deepest earth!
[tr. Cranch (1872), l. 325ff]
Gods who are sovereign over souls! silent ghosts, and Chaos and Phlegethon, the wide dumb realm of night! as I have heard, so let me tell, and according to your will unfold things sunken deep under earth in gloom.
[tr. Mackail (1885)]
O Gods, who rule the ghosts of men, O silent shades of death,
Chaos and Phlegethon, hushed lands that lie beneath the night!
Let me speak now, for I have heard: O aid me with your might
To open things deep sunk in earth, and mid the darkness blent.
[tr. Morris (1900)]
O silent Shades, and ye, the powers of Hell,
Chaos and Phlegethon, wide realms of night,
What ear hath heard, permit the tongue to tell,
High matter, veiled in darkness, to indite.
[tr. Taylor (1907), st. 37, l. 325ff]
Ye gods! who rule the spirits of the dead!
Ye voiceless shades and silent lands of night!
O Phlegethon! O Chaos! let my song,
If it be lawful, in fit words declare
What I have heard; and by your help divine
Unfold what hidden things enshrouded lie
In that dark underworld of sightless gloom.
[tr. Williams (1910)]
Ye gods, who hold the domain of spirits! You voiceless shades! Thou, Chaos, and thou, Phlegethon, ye broad, silent tracts of night! Suffer me to tell what I have heard; suffer me of your grace to unfold secrets buried in the depths and darkness of the earth!
[tr. Fairclough (1916)]
Gods of the world of spirit, silent shadows,
Chaos and Phlegethon, areas of silence,
Wide realms of dark, may it be right and proper
To tell what I have heard, this revelation
Of matters buried deep in earth and darkness!
[tr. Humphries (1951)]
Chaos, and Phlegethon! O mute wide leagues of Nightland! --
Grant me to tell what I have heard! With your assent
May I reveal what lies deep in the gloomof the Underworld!
[tr. Day-Lewis (1952)]
Gods who rule the ghosts; all silent shades;
And Chaos and infernal Fiery Stream,
And regions of wide night without a sound,
May it be right to tell what I have heard,
May it be right, and fitting, by your will,
That I describe the deep world sunk in darkness
Under the earth.
[tr. Fitzgerald (1981), l. 363ff]
You gods who rule the world of the spirits, you silent shades, and Chaos, and Phlegethon, you dark and silent wastes, let it be right for me to tell what I have been told, let it be with your divine blessing that I reveal what is hidden deep in the mists beneath the earth.
[tr. West (1990)]
You gods, whose is the realm of spirits, and you, dumb shadows,
and Chaos, Phlegethon, wide silent places of the night,
let me tell what I have heard: by your power, let me
reveal things buried in the deep earth, and the darkness.
[tr. Kline (2002)]
Gods of the world below, silent shades,
Chaos and Phlegethon, soundless tracts of Night --
Grant me the grace to tell what I have heard,
And lay bare the mysteries in the earth's abyss.
[tr. Lombardo (2005)]
You gods
who govern the realm of ghosts, you voiceless shades and Chaos --
you, the River of Fire, you far-flung regions hushed in night --
lend me the right to tell what I have heard, lend your power
to reveal the world immersed in the misty depths of earth.
[tr. Fagles (2006), l. 302ff]
O gods who govern souls, O silent shades, Chaos, Phlegethon, and mute expanses of the night, let it be right to tell what I have heard, let me show what's buried deep in earth and darkness.
[tr. Bartsch (2021)]
The gates of hell are open night and day;
Smooth the descent, and easy is the way:
But to return, and view the cheerful skies,
In this the task and mighty labor lies.[Facilis descensus Averno:
Noctes atque dies patet atri ianua Ditis;
Sed revocare gradum superasque evadere ad auras,
Hoc opus, hic labor est.]Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
The Aeneid [Ænē̆is], Book 6, l. 126ff (6.126-129) [The Sybil] (29-19 BC) [tr. Dryden (1697)]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
To hel's an easie way,
Black Pluto's gates stand open night and day,
But to return, and the bright aire to view,
This is the worke, the labour of a few.
[tr. Ogilby (1649)]
Easy is the path that leads down to hell; grim Pluto's gate stands open night and day: but to retrace one's steps, and escape to the upper regions, this is a work, this is a task.
[tr. Davidson/Buckley (1854)]
The journey down to the abyss
Is prosperous and light:
The palace-gates of gloomy Dis
Stand open day and night:
But upward to retrace the way
And pass into the light of day,
There comes the stress of labour; this
May task a hero's might.
[tr. Conington (1866)]
Easy the way
Down to Avernus; night and day the gates
Of Dis stand open. But to retrace thy steps
And reach the upper air, -- here lies the task,
The difficulty here.
[tr. Cranch (1872)]
Easy is the descent into hell; all night and day the gate of dark Dis stands open; but to recall thy steps and issue to upper air, this is the task and burden.
[tr. Mackail (1885)]
Avernus' road is easy faring down;
All day and night is open wide the door of Dis the black;
But thence to gain the upper air, and win the footsteps back,
This is the deed, this is the toil.
[tr. Morris (1900)]
Down to Avernus the descent is light,
The gate of Dis stands open day and night.
But upward thence thy journey to retrace,
There lies the labour; 'tis a task of might.
[tr. Taylor (1907), st. 19, l. 166ff]
The downward path to death
Is easy; all the livelong night and day
Dark Pluto's door stands open for a guest.
But O! remounting to the world of light,
This is a task indeed, a strife supreme.
[tr. Williams (1910)]
Easy is the descent to Avernus: night and day the door of gloomy Dis stands open; but to recall thy steps and pass out to the upper air, this is the task, this the toil!
[tr. Fairclough (1916)]
By night, by day, the portals of dark Dis
Stand open: it is easy, the descending
Down to Avernus. But to climb again,
To trace the footsteps back to the air above,
There lies the task, the toil.
[tr. Humphries (1951)]
The way to Avernus is easy;
Night and day lie open the gates of death's dark kingdom:
But to retrace your steps, to find the way back to daylight --
That is the task, the hard thing.
[tr. Day-Lewis (1952)]
Easy
the way that leads into Avernus: day
and night the door to darkest Dis is open.
But to recall your steps, to rise again
into the upper air; that is the labor;
that is the task.
[tr. Mandelbaum (1971), l. 175ff]
The way downward is easy from Avernus.
Black Dis's door stands open night and day.
But to retrace your steps to heaven's air,
There is the trouble, there is the toil.
[tr. Fitzgerald (1981)]
It is easy to go down to the underworld. The door of black Dis stands open night and day. But to retrace your steps and escape to the upper air, that is the task, that is the labor.
[tr. West (1990)]
The path to hell is easy:
black Dis’s door is open night and day:
but to retrace your steps, and go out to the air above,
that is work, that is the task.
[tr. Kline (2002)]
The road down
To Avernus is easy. Day and night
The door to black Dis stands open.
But to retrace your steps and come out
To the upper air, this is the task,
The labor.
[tr. Lombardo (2005)]
The descent to the Underworld is easy.
Night and day the gates of shadowy Death stand open wide,
but to retrace your steps, to climb back to the upper air --
there the struggle, there the labor lies.
[tr. Fagles (2006), l. 149ff]
It's easy to descend into Avernus
Night and day the door of dusky Dis lies open.
To trace your steps and see the light again:
here's the toil and effort.
[tr. Bartsch (2021)]
It is easy to go down into Hell;
Night and day, the gates of dark Death stand wide;
But to climb back again, to retrace one's steps to the upper air --
There's the rub, the task.
[Source]