ng. Next valiant Mnestheus took his stand with bow bent, aiming
high with levelled eye and arrow; yet could not, unfortunate! hit the
bird herself with his steel, but cut the knotted hempen bands that tied
her foot as she hung from the masthead; she winged her flight into the
dark windy clouds. Then Eurytion, who ere now held the arrow ready on
his bended bow, swiftly called in prayer to his brother, marked the
pigeon as she now went down the empty sky exultant on clapping wings;
and as she passed under a dark cloud, [517-553]struck her: she fell
breathless, and, leaving her life in the aery firmament, slid down
carrying the arrow that pierced her. Acestes alone was over, and the
prize lost; yet he sped his arrow up into the air, to display his lordly
skill and resounding bow. At this a sudden sign meets their eyes, mighty
in augural presage, as the high event taught thereafter, and in late
days boding seers prophesied of the omen. For the flying reed blazed out
amid the swimming clouds, traced its path in flame, and burned away on
the light winds; even as often stars shooting from their sphere draw a
train athwart the sky. Trinacrians and Trojans hung in astonishment,
praying to the heavenly powers; neither did great Aeneas reject the
omen, but embraces glad Acestes and loads him with lavish gifts,
speaking thus: 'Take, my lord: for the high King of heaven by these
signs hath willed thee to draw the lot of peculiar honour. This gift
shalt thou have as from aged Anchises' own hand, a bowl embossed with
figures, that once Cisseus of Thrace gave my father Anchises to bear, in
high token and guerdon of affection.' So speaking, he twines green bay
about his brows, and proclaims Acestes conqueror first before them all.
Nor did gentle Eurytion, though he alone struck the bird down from the
lofty sky, grudge him to be preferred in honour. Next comes for his
prize he who cut the cord; he last, who pierced the mast with his winged
reed.

But lord Aeneas, ere yet the contest is sped, calls to him Epytides,
guardian and attendant of ungrown Iuelus, and thus speaks into his
faithful ear: 'Up and away, and tell Ascanius, if he now holds his band
of boys ready, and their horses arrayed for the charge, to defile his
squadrons to his grandsire's honour in bravery of arms.' So says he, and
himself bids all the crowding throng withdraw from the long racecourse
and leave the lists free. The boys move in before their parents' faces,
glitte