Now forth at length, with numbers in her train, She comes in state, majestic to behold, Wrapped in a purpled scarf of Tyrian grain.
All golden is her quiver; knots of gold Confine her hair; a golden clasp doth hold Her purple cloak.

Behind her throng amain The Trojans, with Iulus, blithe and bold, And good AEneas, with the rest, as fain, Joins in, and steps along, the comeliest of the train.
XIX.

As when from wintry Lycia and the shore Of Xanthus, to his mother's Delian seat Apollo comes, the dances to restore.
Around his shrines Dryopians, sons of Crete, And tattooed Agathyrsians shouting meet.
He, on high Cynthus moving, binds around His flowing locks the foliage soft and sweet, And braids with gold: his arms behind him sound, So firm AEneas strode, such grace his features crowned.
XX.

The hill-tops and the pathless lairs they gain.
Lo! from the rocks dislodged, the goats in fear Bound o'er the crags.

In dust-clouds o'er the plain Down from the mountains rush the frightened deer.
On mettled steed the boy, in wild career, Outrides them, glorying in the chase.