Next comes an archery contest. Aeneas offers Prizes and summons; on Serestus’ vessel The mast is raised, and from its top a cord With a fluttering dove bound to it as the mark. Four enter; a bronze helmet takes the lots, Hippocoön’s leaps out first; then Mnestheus follows, Green with the olive garland, sign and token Of ship well driven; and third was Pandarus’ brother, Eurytion; Pandarus was the archer Who once broke truce with the Greeks, firing an arrow In the days of peace; and last came king Acestes, Willing to try his hand with younger men.
They bend the pliant bows, each archer straining, Draw shaft from quiver. First from the twanging string Hippocoön’s arrow flew, through sky, through wind, Reaching its mark in the wood of the mast, which trembled And the bird flapped wings in terror, and the crowd Rang with applause. Mnestheus took his stand, Drawing the bow back, aiming a little higher, And missed the bird, but severed knot and tether, And the dove sped free to the south. Eurytion, waiting And ready, called in prayer upon his brother, Let the dart fly, brought down the bird, exulting, From under the dark of the cloud. She came down lifeless, Pierced by the arrow still. No prize was left For king Acestes, but he fired his arrow, High as he could, to prove his skill. And a wonder Came to their eyes; it proved an omen later When seers explained its meaning. The shaft caught fire Flying amid the clouds, a course of flame, Vanishing into space, as comets stream Sweeping across the heaven, their long train flying Behind them through the sky. All hearts were shaken, Sicilian, Trojan, both, and all men prayed To the powers on high. Aeneas hailed the omen, Embraced Acestes, loaded him with presents, Saying, “Receive them, father; for the king Of heaven has willed it so, unusual honors For skill surpassing. This bowl, with graven figures, Anchises owned, given him by a Thracian, King Cisseus, memorial and token, Of everlasting friendship.” On his brows He bound green laurel, hailing Acestes victor Over the rest, and no one grudged the honor, Not even Eurytion, who had shot the dove; Mnestheus, for the cutting of the tether, Took his reward, and the one who hit the mast, Hippocoön, was not forgotten either.