LXX. Next him stood Mnestheus, eager for the prize,
And straight the bowstring to his breast updrew,
Aiming aloft. The lightning of his eyes
Went with the arrow, as he twanged the yew.
Ah pity! Fortune sped the shaft untrue.
The bird he missed, but cut the flaxen ties
That held the feet, and cleft the knots in two.
And forth, exulting, through the windy skies,		622
Into the darkening clouds the loosened captive flies.
LXXI. Then, quick as thought, his arrow on the string,
Eurytion to his brother breathed a prayer,
Marking the pigeon, as she clapped her wing
Beneath a cloud, he pierced her. Breathless there
She drops; her life is with the stars of air,
The bolt is in her breast. Acestes now
Alone remains; no palm is left to bear,
Yet skyward shoots the veteran, proud to show		631
What skill his hand can boast, the sounding of his bow.

LXXII. Sudden a portent was revealed; [how great
An augury, the future brought to light,]
And frightening seers their omens sang too late.
Aloft, the arrow kindled in its flight,
Then marked with shining trail its pathway bright,
And, wasting, vanished into viewless air.
So stars, unfastened from the vault of night,
Stream in the firmament with fiery glare,		640
And through the dark fling out a length of glittering hair.
LXXIII. Awed stand the men of Sicily and Troy,
And pray the gods. Æneas owns the sign,
And, heaping gifts, Acestes clasps with joy.
"Take, father, take; Jove's auspices divine
A special honour for thy meed assign.
This bowl, embossed with images of gold,
The gift of old Anchises, shall be thine,
Which Thracian Cisseus to my sire of old		649
Gave, as a pledge of love, to have it and to hold."
LXXIV. So saying, with a garland of green bay
He crowned his temples, and the prize conferred,
And named Acestes victor of the day.
Nor good Eurytion to the choice demurred,
Nor grudged to see the veteran's claim preferred,
Though his the prowess that the rest surpassed,
His shaft the one that struck the soaring bird.
The second, he who cut the cord, the last,		658
He who with feathered reed transfixed the tapering mast.

LXXV. But good Æneas, ere the games are done,
The child of Epytus, companion dear
And trusty guardian of his beardless son,
Calls to his side, and whispers in his ear:
"Go bid Ascanius, if his troop be here
And steeds in readiness, with spear and shield
In honour of his grandsire to appear."
Then, calling to the thronging crowd to yield		667
Free space, he clears the course, and open lies the field.
LXXVI. Forth ride the boys, before their fathers' eyes,
Reining their steeds. In radiant files they fare,
And wondering murmurs from each host arise.
All with stript leaves have bound the flowing hair.
Two cornel javelins, tipt with steel, they bear,
Some, polished quivers; and a pliant chain
Of twisted gold around the neck they wear;
Three companies—three captains scour the plain.		676
Twelve youths, behind each chief, compose the glittering train.