"Near Ocean's limits and the sunset, lies A far-off land, by AEthiopians owned, Where mighty Atlas turns the spangled skies.
There a Massylian priestess I have found, The warder of the Hesperian fane renowned.
'Twas hers to feed the dragon, hers to keep The golden fruit, and guard the sacred ground, The dragon's food in honied drugs to steep, And mix the poppy drowse, that soothes the soul to sleep.
LXIII.

"What souls she listeth, with her charms she claims To free from passion, or with pains to smite The love-sick heart; the planets all she tames, And stays the rivers; and her voice of might Calls forth the spirits from the realms of night.
Thyself the rumbling of the ground shalt hear, And see the tall ash tumble from the height.
O, by the Gods, by thy sweet self I swear, Loth am I, sister dear, these magic arms to wear.
LXIV.

"Thou privily within the courtyard frame A lofty pyre; his armour and attire Heap on it, and the fatal couch of shame.
All relics of the wretch are doomed to fire; So bids the priestess, and her charms require." She ended, pale as death, and Anna plied Her task, not dreaming of a rage so dire.
Nought worse she fears than when Sychaeus died, Nor recks that these strange rites her purposed death could hide.
LXV.

Now rose the pile within the courtyard's space, Of oak and pine-wood, open to the wind.
Herself the Queen with garlands decked the place, And funeral chaplets in the sides entwined.
Above, his robes, the sword he left behind, And, last, his image on the couch she laid, Foreknowing all, and while the altars shined With blazing offerings, the enchantress-maid, Frenzied, with thundering voice and tresses disarrayed, LXVI.

Summons her gods--three hundred powers divine, Chaos and Erebus, in Hell supreme, And Dian-Hecate, the maiden trine; Then water, feigned of dark Avernus' stream, She sprinkles round.