These lift the massive bier; Those, as of yore--sad ministry of woe-- With eyes averted, hold the torch below.
Oil, spice and viands, in promiscuous heap, They pour and pile upon the fire; and now, The embers crumbling and the flames asleep, With draughts of ruddy wine the thirsty ash they steep.
XXXII.

And Cornyaeus in a brazen urn Enshrined the bones, upgathered in a caul, And bearing round pure water, thrice in turn From olive branch the lustral dew lets fall, And, sprinkling, speaks the latest words of all.
A lofty mound AEneas hastes to frame, Crowned with his oar and trumpet, 'neath a tall And airy cliff, which still Misenus' name Preserves, and ages keep his everlasting fame.
XXXIII.

This done, AEneas hastens to obey The Sibyl's hest .-- There was a monstrous cave, Rough, shingly, yawning wide-mouthed to the day, Sheltered from access by the lake's dark wave And shadowing forests, gloomy as the grave.
O'er that dread space no flying thing could ply Its wings unjeopardied (whence Grecians gave The name "Aornos"), such a stench on high Rose from the poisonous jaws, and filled the vaulted sky.
XXXIV.

Here four black oxen, as the maid divine Commands them, forth to sacrifice are led.
Over their brows she pours the sacred wine, Then plucks the hairs that sprouted on the head And burns them, as the first-fruits to the dead, Calling aloud on Hecate, whose reign In Heaven and Erebus is owned with dread.
These stab the victims in the throat, and drain In bowls the steaming blood that gushes from the slain.
XXXV.

A black-fleeced lamb AEneas slays, to please The Furies' mother and her sister dread, A barren cow to Proserpine decrees.
Then to the Stygian monarch of the dead The midnight altars he began to spread.
The bulls' whole bodies on the flames he laid, And fat oil on the broiling entrails shed, When lo! as Morn her opening beams displayed, Loud rumblings shook the ground, the wooded hill-tops swayed, XXXVI.