Thus while the Trojan prince employs his eyes, Fix’d on the walls with wonder and surprise, The beauteous Dido, with a num’rous train And pomp of guards, ascends the sacred fane.
In mournful pomp the matrons walk the round, With baleful cypress and blue fillets crown’d, With eyes dejected, and with hair unbound.
This pomp she shows, to tempt her wand’ring guest; Her falt’ring tongue forbids to speak the rest.
Laocoon, Neptune’s priest by lot that year, With solemn pomp then sacrific’d a steer; When, dreadful to behold, from sea we spied Two serpents, rank’d abreast, the seas divide, And smoothly sweep along the swelling tide.
They lie below, on golden beds display’d; And genial feasts with regal pomp are made.
What fun’ral pomp shall floating Tiber see, When, rising from his bed, he views the sad solemnity!
Here modest matrons, in soft litters driv’n, To pay their vows in solemn pomp appear, And odorous gums in their chaste hands they bear.
Like Hercules himself his son appears, In salvage pomp; a lion’s hide he wears; About his shoulders hangs the shaggy skin; The teeth and gaping jaws severely grin.
Then, when in pomp she makes the Phrygian round, With golden turrets on her temples crown’d; A hundred gods her sweeping train supply; Her offspring all, and all command the sky.
Then, unobserv’d, I pass by Juno’s church: A guard of Grecians had possess’d the porch; There Phoenix and Ulysses watch prey, And thither all the wealth of Troy convey: The spoils which they from ransack’d houses brought, And golden bowls from burning altars caught, The tables of the gods, the purple vests, The people’s treasure, and the pomp of priests.
To close the pomp, Aethon, the steed of state, Is led, the fun’rals of his lord to wait.
But, in the palace of the king, appears A scene more solemn, and a pomp of tears.
And now pomp the peaceful kings appear: Four steeds the chariot of Latinus bear; Twelve golden beams around his temples play, To mark his lineage from the God of Day.
Her maids, in martial pomp, on either side, Larina, Tulla, fierce Tarpeia, ride: Italians all; in peace, their queen’s delight; In war, the bold companions of the fight.
Nor will I add new honors to thy grave, Content with those the Trojan hero gave: That funeral pomp thy Phrygian friends design’d, In which the Tuscan chiefs and army join’d.
Messapus next, (great Neptune was his sire,) Secure of steel, and fated from the fire, In pomp appears, and with his ardor warms A heartless train, unexercis’d in arms: The just Faliscans he to battle brings, And those who live where Lake Ciminia springs; And where Feronia’s grove and temple stands, Who till Fescennian or Flavinian lands.
And now perhaps, in hopes of thy return, Rich odors on his loaded altars burn, While we, with vain officious pomp, prepare To send him back his portion of the war, A bloody breathless body, which can owe No farther debt, but to the pow’rs below.
For, sudden, in the fiery tracts above, Appears in pomp th’ imperial bird of Jove: A plump of fowl he spies, that swim the lakes, And o’er their heads his sounding pinions shakes; Then, stooping on the fairest of the train, In his strong talons truss’d a silver swan.
"Was all that pomp of woe for this prepar’d; These fires, this fun’ral pile, these altars rear’d?
"At length her lord descends upon the plain, In pomp, attended with a num’rous train; Receives his friends, and to the city leads, And tears of joy amidst his welcome sheds.
The fun’ral pomp which to your kings you pay, Is all I want, and all you take away."
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announced with pomp and splendor
There was an expectancy about its sounds and shapes: the distant chunk pomp of leather and young bodies on the practice field near her house made her think of bands and cold Coca-Colas, parched peanuts and the sight of people’s breath in the air.