Accept this goblet, rough with figured gold, Which Thracian Cisseus gave my sire of old: This pledge of ancient amity receive, Which to my second sire I justly give." He said, and, with the trumpet's cheerful sound, Proclaimed him victor, and with laurel crowned. Nor good Eurytion envied him the prize, Though he transfixed the pigeon in the skies. Who cut the line, with second gifts was graced; The third was his, whose arrow pierced the mast. The chief, before the games were wholly done, Called Periphantes, tutor to his son, And whispered thus:--"With speed Ascanius find; And, if his childish troop be ready joined, On horseback let him grace his grandsire's day, And lead his equals armed in just array." He said; and, calling out, the cirque he clears. The crowd withdrawn, an open plain appears. And now the noble youths, of form divine, } Advance before their fathers, in a line: } The riders grace the steeds; the steeds with glory shine. } Thus marching on in military pride, Shouts of applause resound from side to side. Their casques adorned with laurel wreaths they wear, Each brandishing aloft a cornel spear. Some at their backs their gilded quivers bore; Their chains of burnished gold hung down before. Three graceful troops they formed upon the green; } Three graceful leaders at their head were seen; } Twelve followed every chief, and left a space between. } The first young Priam led--a lovely boy, Whose grandsire was the unhappy king of Troy; (His race in after-times was known to fame, } New honours adding to the Latian name,) } And well the royal boy his Thracian steed became. } White were the fetlocks of his feet before, And on his front a snowy star he bore. Then beauteous Atys, with Iülus bred, Of equal age, the second squadron led. The last in order, but the first in place,[105] First in the lovely features of his face, Rode fair Ascanius on a fiery steed, Queen Dido's gift, and of the Tyrian breed. Sure coursers for the rest the king ordains, With golden bits adorned, and purple reins. The pleased spectators peals of shouts renew, And all the parents in the children view; Their make, their motions, and their sprightly grace, And hopes and fears alternate in their face. The unfledged commanders, and their martial train, First make the circuit of the sandy plain Around their sires, and, at the appointed sign, Drawn up in beauteous order, form a line. The second signal sounds, the troop divides In three distinguished parts, with three distinguished guides. Again they close, and once again disjoin: In troop to troop opposed, and line to line. They meet; they wheel; they throw their darts afar, With harmless rage, and well-dissembled war. Then in a round the mingled bodies run: