With breathing brass to kindle fierce alarms, And rouse to dare their fate in honourable arms. He served great Hector, and was ever near, Not with his trumpet only, but his spear. But, by Pelides' arms when Hector fell, He chose Æneas; and he chose as well. Swoln with applause, and aiming still at more, He now provokes the sea-gods from the shore. With envy, Triton heard the martial sound, And the bold champion, for his challenge, drowned; Then cast his mangled carcase on the strand:-- The gazing crowd around the body stand. All weep; but most Æneas mourns his fate, And hastens to perform the funeral state. In altar-wise, a stately pile they rear; The basis broad below, and top advanced in air. An ancient wood, fit for the work designed, (The shady covert of the savage kind,) The Trojans found: the sounding axe is plied; Firs, pines, and pitch trees, and the towering pride Of forest ashes, feel the fatal stroke, And piercing wedges cleave the stubborn oak. Huge trunks of trees, felled from the steepy crown Of the bare mountains, roll with ruin down. Armed like the rest the Trojan prince appears, And, by his pious labour, urges theirs. Thus while he wrought, revolving in his mind The ways to compass what his wish designed, He cast his eyes upon the gloomy grove, And then with vows implored the queen of love:-- "O! may thy power, propitious still to me, Conduct my steps to find the fatal tree, In this deep forest; since the Sibyl's breath Foretold, alas! too true, Misenus' death." Scarce had he said, when, full before his sight, } Two doves, descending from their airy flight, } Secure upon the grassy plain alight. } He knew his mother's birds; and thus he prayed:-- "Be you my guides, with your auspicious aid, And lead my footsteps, till the branch be found, Whose glittering shadow gilds the sacred ground. And thou, great parent! with celestial care, In this distress, be present to my prayer." Thus having said, he stopped, with watchful sight, Observing still the motions of their flight, What course they took, what happy signs they shew. } They fed, and, fluttering, by degrees withdrew } Still farther from the place, but still in view: } Hopping and flying thus, they led him on To the slow lake, whose baleful stench to shun, They winged their flight aloft, then, stooping low, Perched on the double tree, that bears the golden bough. Through the green leaves the glittering shadows glow; As, on the sacred oak, the wintery misletoe, Where the proud mother views her precious brood; And happier branches, which she never sowed. Such was the glittering; such the ruddy rind, And dancing leaves, that wantoned in the wind. He seized the shining bough with griping hold, And rent away, with ease, the lingering gold, Then to the Sibyl's palace bore the prize.