In robes of silk, all bright and clean,
And temple cap, with reverent mien,
p. 459 The officer walks from the hall
Straight to the porch, and looks at all
The sheep and oxen doomed to bleed.
Back he returns, and gives good heed
To tripods and the mighty horn
By the rhinoceros once borne.
No need for it! The feasters drink
The spirits good and mild, but shrink
From wanton revelry and pride.
By this an auspice is supplied
Of the long life which those shall reap
Who thus the rules of virtue keep.
