An altar there was rais'd by hands divine,And fragrant incense flam'd around the shrine.Chaste matrons there their vow'd oblations pay,And celebrate with joyful hymns the day.Soon as the fife the signal gives, they moveIn long procession through the sacred groveBranches and flow'rs are with devotion spreadO'er all the way, and priestly vestments laid.Next after these, through loud acclaims, they leadA cow milk white, and of Phaliscan breed;Then a young steer, whose forehead ne'er had borneThe crooked honours of the butting horn.The least of all the victims was a swine,And then a ram whose horns around his temples twine.A goat, whom most the goddess hates, comes last;The present feels her vengeance for the past.When in a wood to hide herself she tried,She by the bleating of a goat was spied;For this the beast is by the boys pursu'd;For this she's ever greedy of its blood,