Her instauration was somewhat strange.
860Led by nine vestals (for th' odd number was
Highly esteemèd in their sacred range,
As by the poet in his quaffing glass),
Each of her jointed lilies one did hold,
Save only that which waits the wedding gold.
Adorned with vestures, white as bleachèd snow,
A cypress mantle over which was cast,
So lightly hung 'twould not abide a blow,
A milk-white ribbon locked unto her waist,