ess, on the Latin shore abide.
All safe but Tarchon. Dashed upon a shoal,
Long on a rock's unequal ridge astride,
In doubtful balance swayed from side to side,
His vessel hangs, and back the waves doth beat,
Then breaks, and leaves them tangled in the tide
'Twixt planks and oars, while, ebbing to retreat,
The shrinking waves draw back, and wash them from their feet.

XLII. Nor loiters Turnus; eager to attack,
Along the shore he marshals his array,
To meet the foe, and drive the Teucrians back.
The trumpet sounds: the Latin churls straightway
AEneas routs, first omen of the day,
Huge Theron slain, their mightiest, who in pride
Of strength, rushed forth and dared him to the fray.
Through quilted brass the Dardan sword he plied,
Through tunic stiff with gold, and pierced th' unguarded side.

XLIII. Lichas he smites, who vowed his infant life,
Ripped from his mother, dying in her pain,
To Phoebus, freed from perils of the knife.
Huge Gyas, brawny Cisseus press the plain,
As, club in hand, they strew the Tuscan train.
Naught now avail those stalwart arms, that plied
The weapons of Alcides; all in vain
They boast their sire Melampus, comrade tried
Of Hercules, while earth his toilsome tasks supplied.

XLIV. Lo, full at Pharus, in his bawling mouth
He plants a dart. Thou, Cydon, too, in quest
Of Clytius, blooming with the down of youth,
Thy latest joy, had'st laid thy loves to rest,
Slain by the Dardan; but around thee pressed
Old Phorcus' sons. Seven brethren bold are there,
Seven darts they throw. These helm and shield arrest,
Those, turned aside by Venus' gentle care
Just graze the Dardan's frame, and, grazing, glance in air.

XLV. Then cried AEneas to Achates true,
"Quick, hand me store of weapons; none in vain
This arm shall hurl at yon Rutulian crew,
Not one of all that whilom knew the stain
Of Argive blood upon the Trojan plain."
So saying, he snatched, and in a moment threw
His mighty spear, that, hurtling, rent in twain
The brazen plates of Maeon's shield, and through
The breastplate pierced the breast, nor faltered as it flew.

XLVI. Up ran, and raised his brother, as he lay,
Alcanor. Shrill another javelin sung,
And pierced his arm, and, reddening, held its way,
And from his shoulders by the sinews hung
The dying hand. Then straight, the dart outwrung