sheathed in shining armour; thrice they circled on their
steeds the mournful funeral flame, and uttered the voice
of wailing. Sprinkled is the earth with their tears, 35
sprinkled is the harness. Upsoars to heaven at once the
shout of warriors and the blare of trumpets. Others
fling upon the fire plunder torn from the Latian slain,
helms and shapely swords and bridle-reins and glowing
wheels; some bring in offering the things the dead men
wore, their own shields and the weapons that sped so ill.
Many carcases of oxen are sacrificed round the piles: