d dainty fruits sets forth, and cheers them from his store.

VII. Next dawn had chased the stars, when on the shore
AEneas thus the gathered crews addressed:
"Twelve months have passed, brave Dardans, since we bore
The bones of great Anchises to his rest,
And laid his ashes in the ground, and blessed
The mourning altars by the rolling sea.
And now once more, if rightly I have guessed,
The day is come, which Heaven hath willed to be
Sacred for evermore, but ever sad to me.

VIII. This day, though exiled on Gaetulian sands,
Or caught by tempests on th' AEgean brine,
Or at Mycenae in the foemen's hands,
With annual honours will I hold divine,
And head with fitting offerings the shrine.
By chance unsought, now hither are we led,
Yet not, I ween, without the God's design,
Where lie the ashes of my father dead,
And greet a friendly port, by favouring breezes sped.

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--wha