Saying thus, Erichtho proceeded (having first with her art made the night itself more dark, and involved her head in a pitchy cloud), to explore the field, and examine one by one the bodies of the unburied dead.  As she approached, the wolves fled before her, and the birds of prey, unwillingly sheathing their talons, abandoned their repast, while the Thessalian witch, searching into the vital parts of the frames before her, at length fixed on one whose lungs were uninjured, and whose organs of speech had sustained no wound.  The fate of many hung in doubt, till she had made her selection.  Had the revival of whole armies been her will, armies would have stood up obedient to her bidding.  She passed a hook beneath the jaw of the selected one, and, fastening it to a cord, dragged him along over rocks and stones, till she reached a cave, overhung by a projecting ridge.  A gloomy fissure in the ground was there, of a depth almost reaching to the infernal gods, where the yew-tree spread thick its horizontal branches, at all times excluding the light of the sun.  Fearful and withering shade was there, and noisome slime cherished by the livelong night.  The air was heavy and flagging as that of the Taenarian promontory; and hither the god of hell permits his ghosts to extend their wanderings.  It is doubtful whether the sorceress called up the dead to attend her here, or herself descended to the abodes of Pluto.  She put on a fearful and variegated robe; she covered her face with her dishevelled hair, and bound her brow with a wreath of vipers.

Meanwhile she observed Sextus afraid, with his eyes fixed on the ground, and his companions trembling; and thus she reproached them.  “Lay aside,” she said, “your vainly-conceived terrors!  You shall behold only a living and a human figure, whose accents you may listen to with perfect security.  If this alarms you, what would you say if you should have seen the Stygian lakes, and the shores burning with sulphur unconsumed, if the Furies stood before you, and Cerberus with his mane of vipers, and the Giants chained in eternal adamant?  Yet all these you might have witnessed unharmed; for all these would quail at the terror of my brow.”

She spoke, and next plied the dead body with her arts.  She supples his wounds, and infuses fresh blood into his veins:  she frees his scars from the clotted gore, and penetrates them with froth from the moon.  She mixes whatever nature has engendered in its most fearful caprices, foam from the jaws of a mad dog, the entrails of the lynx, the backbone of the hyena, and the marrow of a stag that had dieted on serpents, the sinews of the remora, and the eyes of a dragon, the eggs of the eagle, the flying serpent of Arabia, the viper that guards the pearl in the Red Sea, the slough of the hooded snake, and the ashes that remain when the phoenix has been consumed.  To these she adds all venom that has a name, the foliage of herbs over which she has sung her charms, and on which she had voided her rheum as they grew.