Page:Aeneid (Conington 1866).djvu/159

Invite we then, the feast to grace,
The home-gods of our own proud race,
And those our host reveres.
Moreover, if the dawn dispense
Her light to earth nine morrows hence,
First for the Teucrians be decreed
A rivalry of naval speed:
Whose feet are swift to run the course,
Whose arm is nerved with manly force
To aim the dart and shaft aright
Or raw-hide gauntlets wield in fight,
Come all, bold hearts and eager eyes,
And he that earns, expect the prize.
Now hush your tongues from idle speech,
And take you garlands, all and each.'

Thus having said, he wreathes his brow
With his maternal myrtle-bough:
So too does Helymus, and so
Acestes with his locks of snow,
And young Ascanius: and the rest
Obey the example and behest.
Then to the tomb he moves along,
The centre of a circling throng:
There, mindful of the rite divine,
Two cups he pours of purest wine,
Two of new milk, and two of gore
From victims, on the grassy floor,
And scatters flowers of dazzling red,
And thus salutes the mighty dead:
'Hail, sacred father! hail again,
Blest shade, blest ashes, snatched in vain
From foe, and fire, and sea!
Not mine with you the Italian shore
And Latian Tiber to explore,
Whoe'er that Tiber be!'