In no fix’d place the happy souls reside. In groves we live, and lie on mossy beds, By crystal streams, that murmur thro’ the meads: But pass yon easy hill, and thence descend; The path conducts you to your journey’s end.” This said, they climbed the mountain’s brow, And saw below them all the shining fields. They wind the hill, and thro’ the blissful meadows go.
Elysium Fields— Virgil, Aeneid (6.641)