Page:Aeneid (Conington 1866).djvu/207

There plants the arms the warrior bore,
The trumpet and the shapely oar,
Beneath a mountain high in air,
Which bears, and evermore shall bear
From him Misenus' name.

This done, he hastens to fulfil
The dictates of the Sibyl's will.
Before his eyes a monstrous cave
Expands its yawning womb,
Protected by the lake's dark wave
And forest's leafy gloom:
O'er that dread space no flying thing
Unjeopardied could ply its wing;
Such noisome exhalations rise
From out its darkness to the skies.
Here first the priestess sets in view
Four goodly bulls of sable hue,
And 'twixt their horns pours forth the wine:
The topmost hairs she next plucks out,
That bristling on the forehead sprout,
An offering to the flame divine;
On Hecate the while she cries,
The Mighty One of shades and skies.
Some 'neath the throat thrust in the knife
And catch in cups the stream of life.
To Earth, and Night, the Furies' dam,
Æneas slays a black ewe-lamb,
And bids a barren heifer bleed,
For thee, dread Proserpine, decreed.
To Pluto then he sets alight
High altars, flaming through the night,
And on the embers lays
Whole bulls, denuded of their hide,
Still pouring oil in copious tide
To feed the surging blaze.