The Aeneid of Virgil, page 250 by Virgil
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ngs his arms, so terrible his tread.
CIV. AEneas marks him in the files of fight
Far off, and hastes to meet him in advance.
Dauntless he waits, collected in his might,
The noble foe, then, measuring at a glance
The space his arm can cover with the lance;
"May this right hand, my deity," cried he,
"And this poised javelin aid the doubtful chance.
The spoils, from this false pirate stript, to thee
My Lausus, I devote; his trophy shalt thou be."
CV. So saying, from far his whistling shaft he threw.
Wide glanced the missile, by the tough shield bent,
And finding famed Antores, as it flew,
'Twixt flank and bowels pierced a deadly rent.
He, friend of Hercules, from Argos sent,
With king Evander, 'neath Italian skies,
Had fixed his home. Alas! a wound unmeant
Hath laid him low. To heaven he lifts his eyes,
And of sweet Argos dreams, his native land, and dies.
CVI. His javelin then the good AEneas cast;
Flying it pierced the hollow disk, and through
The plates of brass, thrice welded firm and fast,
And linen folds, and triple bull-hides flew,
And in the groin, with failing force but true,
Lodged deep. At once AEneas, for his eye
Glistens with joy, the Tuscan's blood to view,
His trusty sword unfastening from his thigh,
Springs at the faltering foe, and bids Mezentius die.
CVII. Love for his sire stirred Lausus, and the tears
Rolled down, and heavily he groaned. Thy fate,
Brave youth! thy prowess, if the far-off years
Shall give due credence to a deed so great,
My verse at least shall spare not to relate.
While backward limped Mezentius, spent and slow,
His shield still cumbered with the javelin's weight,
Forth sprang the youth, and grappled with the foe,
And 'neath AEneas' sword, uplifted for the blow,
CVIII. Slipped in, and checked him. Onward press the train
With shouts, to shelter the retreating sire,
And distant arrows on the foeman