But good AEneas, ere the games are done, The child of Epytus, companion dear And trusty guardian of his beardless son, Calls to his side, and whispers in his ear: "Go bid Ascanius, if his troop be here And steeds in readiness, with spear and shield In honour of his grandsire to appear." Then, calling to the thronging crowd to yield Free space, he clears the course, and open lies the field.
LXXVI.

Forth ride the boys, before their fathers' eyes, Reining their steeds.

In radiant files they fare, And wondering murmurs from each host arise.
All with stript leaves have bound the flowing hair.
Two cornel javelins, tipt with steel, they bear, Some, polished quivers; and a pliant chain Of twisted gold around the neck they wear; Three companies--three captains scour the plain.
Twelve youths, behind each chief, compose the glittering train.
LXXVII.

One shouting troop young Priam's lead obeys, Thy son, Polites, from his grandsire hight, And born erelong Italia's fame to raise.
A dappled Thracian charger bears the knight, His pasterns flecked and forehead starred with white.
Next Atys, whom the Atian line reveres, The youthful idol of a youth's delight, So well Iulus loved him.

Last appears Iulus, first in grace and comeliest of his peers.
LXXVIII.