Last of the Aeneid Cutups
With groans and cries, unspotted eyes
Then on a bier, the servants cover’d o'er,
The temple body she bewail’d invites.
And fire the cave with the spacious scared rites.
Such reverend rites there fashions us
Pure hollow hills in fire before they may
Throw a hundred doors which his friends pious pour,
While issue many voices, and greedy
Then on the Sybil’s words, red wine they dispose,
Which in a brazen mouth her cries inclose.
“This is the time, compass’d destiny by crew,
He comes; behold the branch in holy