This heard, she gave command: and summon’d came Each noble matron and illustrious dame. The Phrygian queen to her rich wardrobe went, Where treasured odours breathed a costly scent. There lay the vestures of no vulgar art, Sidonian maids embroider’d every part, Whom from soft Sidon youthful Paris bore, With Helen touching on the Tyrian shore. Here, as the queen revolved with careful eyes The various textures and the various dyes, She chose a veil that shone superior far, And glow’d refulgent as the morning star. Herself with this the long procession leads; The train majestically slow proceeds. Soon as to Ilion’s topmost tower they come, And awful reach the high Palladian dome, Antenor’s consort, fair Theano, waits As Pallas’ priestess, and unbars the gates. With hands uplifted and imploring eyes, They fill the dome with supplicating cries. The priestess then the shining veil displays, Placed on Minerva’s knees, and thus she prays: