So having wailed his fill, he gives order to lift and bear the poor corpse, and sends a thousand men chosen from his whole array to attend the last service of woe, and lend their countenance to the father’s tears, a scant solace for that mighty sorrow, yet not the less the wretched parent’s due. Others, nothing slack, plait the framework of a pliant bier with shoots of arbute and oaken twigs, and shroud the heaped-up bed with a covering of leaves. 5 Here place they the youth raised high on his rustic litter, even as a flower cropped by maiden’s finger, be it of delicate violet or drooping hyacinth, unforsaken as yet of its sparkling hue and its graceful outline, though its parent earth no longer feeds it or supplies it with strength. Then 10 brought forth Æneas two garments stiff with gold and purple, which Dido had wrought for him in other days with her own hands, delighting in the toil, and had streaked their webs with threads of gold. Of these the mourner spreads one over his youthful friend as a last honour, 15 and muffles the locks on which the flame must feed: moreover he piles in a heap many a spoil from Laurentum’s fray, and bids the plunder be carried in long procession. The steeds too and weapons he adds of which he had stripped the foe. Already had he bound the victims’ 20 hands behind their backs, doomed as a sacrifice to the dead man’s spirit, soon to spill their blood over the fire: and now he bids the leaders in person carry tree-trunks clad with hostile arms, and has the name of an enemy attached to each. There is Acœtes led along, a lorn old 25 man, marring now his breast with blows, now his face with laceration, and anon he throws himself at his full length on the ground. They lead too the car, all spattered with Rutulian blood. After it the warrior steed, Æthon, his trappings laid aside, moves weeping, and bathes his 30 visage with big round drops. Others carry the spear and the helm: for the rest of the harness is Turnus’ prize. Then follows a mourning army, the Teucrians, and all the Tuscans, and the sons of Arcady with weapons turned downward. And now after all the retinue had passed on 35 in long array, Æneas stayed, and groaning deeply uttered one word more: “We are summoned hence by the same fearful destiny of war to shed other tears: I bid you hail forever, mightiest Pallas, and forever farewell.” Saying this and this only, he turned to the lofty walls again, and bent his footsteps campward.