dged 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 rain.
Safe-covered stands AEneas, thrilled with ire.
As when the storm-clouds in a deluge dire
Pour down the hail, and all the ploughmen fly,
And scattered hinds from off the fields retire,
And rock or stream-side shields the passer-by,
Till sunshine calls to toil, and reawakes the sky;

CIX. So, whelmed with darts, the Trojan chief defies
The cloud of war, till all its storms abate,
And chides and threatens Lausus. "Fool," he cries,
"Why rush to death, and dare a deed too great?
Rash youth! thy love betrays thee." 'Twas too late;
Rage blinds poor Lausus, and he scorns to stay.
Then fiercer waxed the Dardan's wrath, and Fate
The threads had gathered, for their forceful sway
Hilt-deep within his breast the falchion urged its way.

CX. It pierced the shield, light armour and the vest,
Wrought by his mother with fine golden thread,
And drenched with gore the tunic and the breast.
Sweet life, departing, left the limbs outspread,
And the sad spirit to the ghost-world fled.
But when the son of great Anchises scanned
The face, the pallid features of the dead,
Deeply he groaned, and stretched a pitying hand.
Grief for his own dear sire his noble soul unmanned.

CXI. "Alas! what meed, to match such worth divine,
Can good AEneas give thee? Take to-day
The arms wherein thou joyed'st; they are thine.
Thy corpse--if aught can please the senseless clay--
Back to thy parents' ashes I repay.
Poor youth! thy solace be it to be slain
By great AEneas." Then his friends' delay
He chides, and lifts young Lausus from the plain,
Dead