city flowed a river of the most precious ointment, a hundred cubits
in breadth, and deep enough to swim in; the baths are large houses
of glass perfumed with cinnamon, and instead of water filled with
warm dew. For clothes they wear spider's webs, very fine, and of a
purple colour. They have no bodies, but only the appearance of
them, insensible to the touch, and without flesh, yet they stand,
taste, move, and speak. Their souls seem to be naked, and separated
from them, with only the external similitude of a body, and unless
you attempt to touch, you can scarce believe but they have one; they
are a kind of upright shadows, {119} only not black. In this place
nobody ever grows old: at whatever age they enter here, at that
they always remain. They have no night nor bright day, but a
perpetual twilight; one equal season reigns throughout the year; it
is always spring with them, and no wind blows but Zephyrus. The
whole region abounds in sweet flowers and shrubs of every kind;
their vines bear twelve times in the year, yielding fruit every
month, their apples, pomegranates, and the rest of our autumnal
produce, thirteen times, bearing twice in the month of Minos.
Instead of corn the fields bring forth loaves of ready-made bread,
like mushrooms. There are three hundred and sixty-five fountains of
water round the city, as many of honey, and five hundred rather
smaller of sweet-scented oil, besides seven rivers of milk and eight
of wine.

Their symposia are held in a place without the city, which they call
the Elysian Field. This is a most beautiful meadow, skirted by a
large and thick wood, affording an agreeable shade to the guests,
who repose on couches of flowers; the winds attend upon and bring
them everything necessary, except wine, which is otherwise provided,
for there are large trees on every side made of the finest glass,