you some description of. Every part of it was steep and filthy,
abounding in rocks and rough mountains. We crept along, over
precipices full of thorns and briers, and, passing through a most
horrid country, came to the dungeon, and place of punishment, which
we beheld with an admiration full of horror: the ground was strewed
with swords and prongs, and close to us were three rivers, one of
mire, another of blood, and another of fire, immense and impassable,
that flowed in torrents, and rolled like waves in the sea; it had
many fish in it, some like torches, others resembling live coals;
which they called lychnisci. There is but one entrance into the
three rivers, and at the mouth of them stood, as porter, Timon of
Athens. By the assistance, however, of our guide, Nauplius, we
proceeded, and saw several punished, {135a} as well kings as private
persons, and amongst these some of our old acquaintance; we saw
Cinyrus, {135b} hung up and roasting there. Our guides gave us the
history of several of them, and told us what they were punished for;
those, we observed, suffered most severely who in their lifetimes
had told lies, or written what was not true, amongst whom were
Ctesias the Cnidian, Herodotus, and many others. When I saw these I
began to conceive good hopes of hereafter, as I am not conscious of
ever having told a story.

Not able to bear any longer such melancholy spectacles, we took our
leave of Nauplius, and returned to our ship. In a short time after
we had a view, but confused and indistinct, of the Island of Dreams,
which itself was not unlike a dream, for as we approached towards
it, it seemed as it were to retire and fly from us. At last,
however, we got up to it, and entered the harbour, which is called
Hypnus, {136a} near the ivory gates, where there is a harbour
dedicated to the cock. {136b} We landed late in the evening, and
saw several dreams of various kinds. I propose, however, at
present, to give you an account of the place itself, which nobody
has ever written about, except Homer, whose description is very
imperfect.

Round the island is a very thick wood; the trees are all tall
poppies, or mandragorae, {136c} in which are a great number of bats;
for these are the only birds they have here; there is likewise a
river which they call Nyctiporus, {136d} and round the gates two
fountains: the name of one is Negretos, {137a} and of the other
Pannychia. {137b} The city has a high wall, of