And waves the bough; his dark robe sweeps the earth.
And now, in squalid garb and wrapped in gloom,
The priest advances, with his hoary locks555
Encircled by the yew-tree's deadly leaves.
Black sheep and sable oxen, backward driven,[3]
Are sacrificed. The fire devours the food,
And the living entrails quiver in the flames.
The shades he calls, and him who rules the shades,
And him who guards the dark Lethaean stream.560
A magic rune he mutters o'er and o'er