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A gift which Cisseus, lord of Thrace,
Once gave my sire of his dear grace,
In token of their love.'
Then round Acestes' temples hoar
He bound the wreath of bay,
And hailed him all his peers before
The conqueror of the day:
Nor good Eurytion grudged to see
The veteran's claim preferred,
Albeit that he, and none but he,
Struck down the soaring bird.
Next his who cut the cord, and last
The champion's turn who struck the mast.

But good Æneas, e'en before
The archers' rivalry was o'er,
In private summoned to his side
The young Iulus' trusted guide,
Old Periphas Epytides,
And gently whispered words like these:
'Go now, and if Ascanius' band
Of boyish knights is here at hand,
Bid him on this his grandsire's day
Himself and them in arms display.'
This said, he bids the company
Retire, and leave the circus free.
They enter, glittering side by side,
And rein their steeds with youthful pride,
As 'neath their fathers' eyes they ride,
While all Trinacria's host and Troy's
With plaudits greet the princely boys.
Each has his hair by rule confined
With stripped-off leaves in garland twined:
Some ride with shapely bows equipped:
Two cornel spears they bear, steel-tipped: