XXVIII. So saying, he stays his footsteps, fain to heed
What signs they give, and whitherward their flight.
Awhile they fly, awhile they stop to feed,
Then, fluttering, keep within the range of sight,
Till, coming where Avernus, dark as night,
Gapes, with rank vapours from its depths uprolled,
Aloft they soar, and through the liquid height
Dart to the tree, where, wondrous to behold,		244
The varying green sets forth the glitter of the gold.
XXIX. As in the woods, in winter's cold, is seen,
Sown on an alien tree, the mistletoe
To bloom afresh with foliage newly green,
And round the tapering boles its arms to throw,
Laden with yellow fruitage, even so
The oak's dark boughs the golden leaves display,
So the foil rustles in the breezes low.
Quickly Æneas plucks the lingering spray,		253
And to the Sibyl bears the welcome gift away.

XXX. Nor less the dead Misenus they deplore,
And honours to the thankless dust assign.
A stately pyre they build upon the shore,
Rich with oak-timbers and the resinous pine,
And sombre foliage in the sides entwine.
In front, the cypress marks the fatal soil,
Above, they leave the warrior's arms to shine.
These heat the water, till the caldrons boil,		262
And wash the stiffened limbs, and fill the wounds with oil.
XXXI. Loud is the wailing; then with many a tear
They lay him on the bed, and o'er him throw
His purple robes. These lift the massive bier;
Those, as of yore—sad ministry of woe—
With eyes averted, hold the torch below.
Oil, spice and viands, in promiscuous heap,
They pour and pile upon the fire; and now,
The embers crumbling and the flames asleep,		271
With draughts of ruddy wine the thirsty ash they steep.

XXXII. And Cornyæus in a brazen urn
Enshrined the bones, upgathered in a caul,
And bearing round pure water, thrice in turn
From olive branch the lustral dew lets fall,
And, sprinkling, speaks the latest words of all.
A lofty mound Æneas hastes to frame,
Crowned with his oar and trumpet, 'neath a tall
And airy cliff, which still [Misenus'] name		280
Preserves, and ages keep his everlasting fame.

XXXIII. This done, Æneas hastens to obey
The Sibyl's hest.—There was a monstrous cave,
Rough, shingly, yawning wide-mouthed to the day,
Sheltered from access by the lake's dark wave
And shadowing forests, gloomy as the grave.
O'er that dread space no flying thing could ply
Its wings unjeopardied (whence Grecians gave
The name ["Aornos"]), such a stench on high		289
Rose from the poisonous jaws, and filled the vaulted sky.
XXXIV. Here four black oxen, as the maid divine
Commands them, forth to sacrifice are led.
Over their brows she pours the sacred wine,
Then plucks the hairs that sprouted on the head
And burns them, as the first-fruits to the dead,
Calling aloud on Hecate, whose reign
In Heaven and Erebus is owned with dread.
These stab the victims in the throat, and drain		298
In bowls the steaming blood that gushes from the slain.