IX. "Come then, with festival his name revere, Pray we for winds to waft us, and entreat His shade to take these offerings year by year, When gathered to our new-built Troy, we meet In hallowed fanes, his worship to repeat. See, for each ship two head of horned kine Acestes sends, his Trojan friends to greet Bid then the home-gods of the Trojan line, With those our host adores, to grace the feast divine. X. "Nay, if the ninth fair morning show fine day, And bring the sunshine, be a match decreed For Teucrian ships, their swiftness to essay. Next, in the footrace whosoe'er hath speed, Or, glorying in his manhood, claims the meed With dart, or flying arrow and the bow, Or bout with untanned gauntlet, mark and heed, And wait the victor's guerdon. Come ye now; Hush'd be each idle tongue, and garlanded each brow." XI. He spake, and round his temples binds with joy His mother's myrtle. Helymus is crowned, The veteran Acestes, and the boy Ascanius, and the Trojan warriors round. So from the council to the funeral mound He moves, the centre of a circling crowd. Two bowls of wine he pours upon the ground, Two of warm milk, and two of victim's blood, And, scattering purple flowers, invokes the shade aloud. XII. "Hail, holy Sire! blest Spirit, hail once more, And ashes, vainly rescued! Not with thee Was I allowed to reach Italia's shore, The fields Ausonian that the Fates decree, And Latin Tiber--whatsoe'er it be." He ceased, when lo, a monstrous serpent, wound In seven huge coils, seven giant spires, they see Glide from the grave, and gently clasp the mound, And 'twixt the altars trail in many a tortuous round. XIII. The back with azure and the scales with gold In streaks and glittering patches were ablaze: So doth the rainbow in the clouds unfold A thousand hues against the sun's bright rays. AEneas stood bewildered with amaze. In lengthened train meanwhile the snake went on, 'Twixt cups and bowls weaving its sinuous ways, Then sipped the sacred food, and harming none, The tasted altars left and 'neath the tomb was gone. XIV. Cheered, to Anchises he the rites renewed, In doubt if there some Genius of the shrine Or menial spirit of his sire he viewed. Two sheep, two dark-backed heifers, and two swine He slays, invoking, as he pours the wine, The ghost, released from Acheron. Glad of soul, Each adds his gift. These slay the sacred Kine, Pile altars, set the cauldrons, heap the coal, And, sitting, hold the spits, and roast the entrails whole.