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THE ÆNEID.

When on the naked shore, behold,
They see Misenus, dead and cold,
Destroyed by ruthless doom;
The son of Æolus, than who
None ere more skilled the trumpet blew,
To animate the warrior crew
And martial fire relume.
Once Hector's comrade, in the fray
He mingled, proud the sword to sway
Or bid the clarion sound:
When Hector 'neath the conqueror died,
He joined him to Æneas' side,
Nor worse allegiance found.
Now, as he sounds along the waves
His shell, and Heaven to conflict braves,
'Tis said that Triton heard his boast
And 'mid the billows on the coast
Sunk low his drowning head.
So all the train with cries of grief
Assailed the skies, Æneas chief:
Then, as the Sibyl bade, they ply
Their mournful task, and heap on high
With timber rising to the sky
The altar of the dead.

First to the forest they repair,
The silvan prowler's leafy lair:
The pitch-tree falls beneath the stroke;
The sharp axe rings upon the oak:
Through beechen core the wedge goes deep:
The ash comes rolling down the steep.
Æneas stirs his comrades' zeal,
And foremost wields the workman steel.
In moody silence he surveys
The boundless grove: at last he prays: