In the final resting place for departed souls where bodiless ghosts flitted across the dark Fields of Asphodel, joy filled the gray land and the valleys. The Underworld held high festivals, and the ghosts amused themselves at the nuptial feast. A joyous banquet and singular songs broke the gloomy silence since the wailing and moaning were hushed for once.
No longer was Sisyphus's stone rolling downhill, nor the water and fruit withdrawn from Tantalus' lips. Charon crowned his uncombed locks with sedge, and he sang as he worked his weightless oars over the great Styx. By the Gate of Hell, the three-headed beast, Cerberus, indulged himself with some nice juicy bones. Even the vicious Furies with all their snaky hair made ready their wine-bowls and drank themselves forgetful of crimes and dr
