fell overboard and was drowned.  He addressed him and asked him the cause of his misfortune.  Palinurus replied that the rudder was carried away, and he, clinging to it, was swept away with it.  He besought Aeneas most urgently to extend to him his hand and take him in company to the opposite shore.  But the Sibyl rebuked him for the wish thus to transgress the laws of Pluto; but consoled him by informing him that the people of the shore where his body had been wafted by the waves should be stirred up by prodigies to give it due burial, and that the promontory should bear the name of Cape Palinurus, which it does to this day.  Leaving Palinurus consoled by these words, they approached the boat.  Charon, fixing his eyes sternly upon the advancing warrior, demanded by what right he, living and armed, approached that shore.  To which the Sibyl replied that they would commit no violence, that Aeneas’s only object was to see his father, and finally exhibited the golden branch, at sight of which Charon’s wrath relaxed, and he made haste to turn his bark to the shore, and receive them on board.  The boat, adapted only to the light freight of bodiless spirits, groaned under the weight of the hero.  They were soon conveyed to the opposite shore.  There they were encountered by the three-headed dog, Cerberus, with his necks bristling with snakes.  He barked with all his three throats till the Sibyl threw him a medicated cake which he eagerly devoured, and then stretched himself out in his den and fell asleep.  Aeneas and the Sibyl sprang to land.  The first sound that struck their ears was the wailing of young children, who had died on the threshold of life, and near to these were they who had perished under false charges.  Minos presides over them as judge, and examines the deeds of each.  The next class was of those who had died by their own hand, hating life and seeking refuge in death.  O how willingly would they now endure poverty, labor, and any other infliction, if they might but return to life!  Next were situated the regions of sadness, divided off into retired paths, leading through groves of myrtle.  Here roamed those who had fallen victims to unrequited love, not freed from pain even by death itself.  Among these, Aeneas thought he descried the form of Dido, with a wound still recent.  In the dim light he was for a moment uncertain, but approaching, perceived it was indeed herself.  Tears fell from his eyes, and he addressed her in the accents of love.  “Unhappy Dido! was then the rumor true that you had perished? and was I, alas! the cause?  I call the gods to witness that my departure from you was reluctant, and in obedience to the commands of Jove; nor could I believe that my absence would cost you so dear.  Stop, I beseech you, and refuse me not a last farewell.”  She stood for a moment with averted countenance, and eyes fixed on the ground, and then silently passed on, as insensible to his pleadings as a rock.  Aeneas followed for some distance; then, with a heavy heart, rejoined his companion and resumed his route.