Æn. I.
ÆNEIS.
339
The Goblet then the took, with Nectar crown'd, 1030
(Sprinkling the first Libations on the Ground,)
And rais'd it to her Mouth with sober Grace,
Then sipping, offer'd to the next in place.
Twas Bitias whom the call'd, a thirsty Soul,
He took the Challenge, and embrac'd the Bowl: 1035
With Pleasure swill'd the Gold, nor ceas'd to draw,
Till he the bottom of the Brimmer saw.
The Goblet goes around: Iöpas brought
His Golden Lyre, and sung what ancient Atlas taught.
The various Labours of the wand'ring Moon, 1040
And whence proceed th' Eclipses of the Sun.
Th' Original of Men, and Beasts; and whence
The Rains arise, and Fires their Warmth dispence;
And fix'd, and erring Stars, dispose their Influence.
What shakes the solid Earth, what Cause delays 1045
The Summer Nights, and shortens Winter Days.
With Peals of Shouts the Tyrians praise the Song;
Those Peals are echo'd by the Trojan Throng.
Th' unhappy Queen with Talk prolong'd the Night,
And drank large Draughts of Love with vast Delight.
Of Priam much enquir'd, of Hector more; 1051
Then ask'd what Arms the swarthy Memnon wore;
What Troops he landed on the Trojan Shore.
The Steeds of Diomede vary'd the Discourse,
And fierce Achilles, with his matchless Force. 1055
At length, as Fate and her ill Stars requir'd,
To hear the Series of the War desir'd.
(Sprinkling the first Libations on the Ground,)
And rais'd it to her Mouth with sober Grace,
Then sipping, offer'd to the next in place.
Twas Bitias whom the call'd, a thirsty Soul,
He took the Challenge, and embrac'd the Bowl: 1035
With Pleasure swill'd the Gold, nor ceas'd to draw,
Till he the bottom of the Brimmer saw.
The Goblet goes around: Iöpas brought
His Golden Lyre, and sung what ancient Atlas taught.
The various Labours of the wand'ring Moon, 1040
And whence proceed th' Eclipses of the Sun.
Th' Original of Men, and Beasts; and whence
The Rains arise, and Fires their Warmth dispence;
And fix'd, and erring Stars, dispose their Influence.
What shakes the solid Earth, what Cause delays 1045
The Summer Nights, and shortens Winter Days.
With Peals of Shouts the Tyrians praise the Song;
Those Peals are echo'd by the Trojan Throng.
Th' unhappy Queen with Talk prolong'd the Night,
And drank large Draughts of Love with vast Delight.
Of Priam much enquir'd, of Hector more; 1051
Then ask'd what Arms the swarthy Memnon wore;
What Troops he landed on the Trojan Shore.
The Steeds of Diomede vary'd the Discourse,
And fierce Achilles, with his matchless Force. 1055
At length, as Fate and her ill Stars requir'd,
To hear the Series of the War desir'd.
