“And Tityus there I saw—the mighty earth His mother—overspreading, as he lay, Nine acres, with two vultures at his side, That, plucking at his liver, plunged their beaks Into the flesh; nor did his hands avail To drive them off, for he had offered force To Jove’s proud wife Latona, as she went To Pytho, through the pleasant Panopeus.
“And next I looked on Tantalus, a prey To grievous torments, standing in a lake That reached his chin. Though painfully athirst, He could not drink; as often as he bowed His aged head to take into his lips The water, it was drawn away, and sank Into the earth, and the dark soil appeared Around his feet; a god had dried it up. And lofty trees drooped o’er him, hung with fruit— Pears and pomegranates, apples fair to sight, And luscious figs, and olives green of hue. And when that ancient man put forth his hands To pluck them from their stems, the wind arose And whirled them far among the shadowy clouds.
“There I beheld the shade of Sisyphus Amid his sufferings. With both hands he rolled A huge stone up a hill. To force it up, He leaned against the mass with hands and feet; But, ere it crossed the summit of the hill A power was felt that sent it rolling back, And downward plunged the unmanageable rock Before him to the plain. Again he toiled To heave it upward, while the sweat in streams Ran down his limbs, and dust begrimed his brow.
“Then I beheld the mighty Hercules— The hero’s image—for he sits himself Among the deathless gods, well pleased to share Their feasts, and Hebe of the dainty feet— A daughter of the mighty Jupiter And golden-sandalled Juno—is his wife. Around his image flitted to and fro The ghosts with noise, like fear-bewildered birds. His look was dark as night. He held in hand A naked