So it is settled that Bacchus and his slave, for he has a slave with him to carry his baggage, shall take the usual route by the Styx.

To the Styx, accordingly, they make their way. Charon the ferryman is plying for hire, “Any one for Rest-from-toil-and-labor Land? For No-Mansland? For the Isle of Dogs?[5]”

Bacchus steps in, and by Charon’s order, takes an oar which he handles very helplessly. The slave has to go round: Charon does not carry slaves, he says. As they slowly make their way across, the frogs from the marsh raise the song of their kind, ending with the burden which is supposed to represent their note, Brekekekex, coax, coax.

It is pitch dark on the further side. When the slave turns up, he advises his master to go on at once. “’Tis the[Pg 5] very spot,” he says, “where Hercules told us those terrible wild beasts were.” Bacchus is very valiant.

[Pg 5]

 “A curse upon him! ’twas an idle tale, He feigned to frighten me, for well he knew, How brave I am, the envious braggart soul! Grant, fortune, I may meet some perilous chance Meet for so bold a journey.” 

“O Master, I hear a noise.”

“Where, where?”

“It is behind us.”

“Get behind then.”

“No—it is in front.”

“Why don’t you go in front?”

“O Master, I see such a Monster.”

“What is it like?”

“Why! it keeps on changing—now it’s a bull, now it’s a stag, and now it’s a woman; and its face is all fire. What shall we do? O Hercules, Hercules help.”

“Hold your tongue. Don’t call me Hercules.”

“Bacchus, then.”

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