LXIII. "What souls she listeth, with her charms she claims To free from passion, or with pains to smite The love-sick heart; the planets all she tames, And stays the rivers; and her voice of might Calls forth the spirits from the realms of night. Thyself the rumbling of the ground shalt hear, And see the tall ash tumble from the height. O, by the Gods, by thy sweet self I swear, Loth am I, sister dear, these magic arms to wear. LXIV. "Thou privily within the courtyard frame A lofty pyre; his armour and attire Heap on it, and the fatal couch of shame. All relics of the wretch are doomed to fire; So bids the priestess, and her charms require." She ended, pale as death, and Anna plied Her task, not dreaming of a rage so dire. Nought worse she fears than when Sychaeus died, Nor recks that these strange rites her purposed death could hide. LXV. Now rose the pile within the courtyard's space, Of oak and pine-wood, open to the wind. Herself the Queen with garlands decked the place, And funeral chaplets in the sides entwined. Above, his robes, the sword he left behind, And, last, his image on the couch she laid, Foreknowing all, and while the altars shined With blazing offerings, the enchantress-maid, Frenzied, with thundering voice and tresses disarrayed, LXVI. Summons her gods--three hundred powers divine, Chaos and Erebus, in Hell supreme, And Dian-Hecate, the maiden trine; Then water, feigned of dark Avernus' stream, She sprinkles round. Rank herbs are sought, that teem With poisonous juice, and plants at midnight shorn With brazen sickles by the Moon's pale beam, And from the forehead of a foal new-born, Ere by the dam devoured, love's talisman is torn. LXVII. Herself, the queen, before the altar stands, One foot unsandalled, and her flowing vest Loosed from its cincture. In her stainless hands The sacrificial cake she holds; her breast Heaves, with approaching agony oppressed. She calls the conscious planets as they move, She calls the stars, her purpose to attest, And all the gods, if any rules above, Mindful of lovers' wrongs, and just to injured love. LXVIII. 'Twas night; on earth all creatures were asleep: Midway the stars moved silent through the sphere; Hushed were the forest and the angry deep, And hushed was every field, and far and near Reigned stillness, and the night spread calm and clear. The flocks, the birds, with painted plumage gay, That haunt the copse, or dwell in brake and brere, Or skim the liquid lakes--all silent lay, Lapt in oblivion sweet, forgetful of the day.