This spoken, he shrouds his own brows with his mother’s
myrtle. So does Helymus, so does veteran Acestes, so
young Ascanius—so the whole multitude of warriors.
He was already on his way from the council to the tomb
with many thousands round him, the centre of a great 20
company. Here in due libation he pours on the ground
two bowls of the wine-god’s pure juice, two of new milk,
two of sacrificial blood; he flings bright flowers, and makes
this utterance:—“Hail to thee, blessed sire, once more!
hail to you, ashes of one rescued in vain, spirit and shade 25