LXIX. Forth step the marksmen, and with bows well-bent, Draw forth their arrows, and their aim prepare. Loud twanged the cord, as first Hippocoon sent His feathered shaft, that through the flowing air Went whistling on, and pierced the mast, and there Stuck fast. The stout tree quivered, and the bird Flapped with her wings in terror and despair, Fluttering for freedom, and around were heard Shouts, as admiring joy the clamorous concourse stirred. LXX. Next him stood Mnestheus, eager for the prize, And straight the bowstring to his breast updrew, Aiming aloft. The lightning of his eyes Went with the arrow, as he twanged the yew. Ah pity! Fortune sped the shaft untrue. The bird he missed, but cut the flaxen ties That held the feet, and cleft the knots in two. And forth, exulting, through the windy skies, Into the darkening clouds the loosened captive flies. LXXI. Then, quick as thought, his arrow on the string, Eurytion to his brother breathed a prayer, Marking the pigeon, as she clapped her wing Beneath a cloud, he pierced her. Breathless there She drops; her life is with the stars of air, The bolt is in her breast. Acestes now Alone remains; no palm is left to bear, Yet skyward shoots the veteran, proud to show What skill his hand can boast, the sounding of his bow. LXXII. Sudden a portent was revealed; how great An augury, the future brought to light, And frightening seers their omens sang too late. Aloft, the arrow kindled in its flight, Then marked with shining trail its pathway bright, And, wasting, vanished into viewless air. So stars, unfastened from the vault of night, Stream in the firmament with fiery glare, And through the dark fling out a length of glittering hair. LXXIII. Awed stand the men of Sicily and Troy, And pray the gods. AEneas owns the sign, And, heaping gifts, Acestes clasps with joy. "Take, father, take; Jove's auspices divine A special honour for thy meed assign. This bowl, embossed with images of gold, The gift of old Anchises, shall be thine, Which Thracian Cisseus to my sire of old Gave, as a pledge of love, to have it and to hold." LXXIV. So saying, with a garland of green bay He crowned his temples, and the prize conferred, And named Acestes victor of the day. Nor good Eurytion to the choice demurred, Nor grudged to see the veteran's claim preferred, Though his the prowess that the rest surpassed, His shaft the one that struck the soaring bird. The second, he who cut the cord, the last, He who with feathered reed transfixed the tapering mast.