"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--whatsoe'er it be." He ceased, when lo, a monstrous serpent, wound In seven huge coils, seven giant spires, they see Glide from the grave, and gently clasp the mound, And 'twixt the altars trail in many a tortuous round.
XIII.

The back with azure and the scales with gold In streaks and glittering patches were ablaze: So doth the rainbow in the clouds unfold A thousand hues against the sun's bright rays.
AEneas stood bewildered with amaze.
In lengthened train meanwhile the snake went on, 'Twixt cups and bowls weaving its sinuous ways, Then sipped the sacred food, and harming none, The tasted altars left and 'neath the tomb was gone.
XIV.

Cheered, to Anchises he the rites renewed, In doubt if there some Genius of the shrine Or menial spirit of his sire he viewed.
Two sheep, two dark-backed heifers, and two swine He slays, invoking, as he pours the wine, The ghost, released from Acheron.

Glad of soul, Each adds his gift.

These slay the sacred Kine, Pile altars, set the cauldrons, heap the coal, And, sitting, hold the spits, and roast the entrails whole.
XV.