tor Hydaspes, Rapo
Parthenius and the grim strength of Orses, Messapus Clonius and
Erichaetes son of Lycaon, the one when his reinless horse stumbling had
flung him to the ground, the other as they met on foot. And Agis the
Lycian advanced only to be struck from horseback by Valerus, brave as
his ancestry; and Thronius by Salius, and Salius by Nealces with
treacherous arrow-shot that stole from far.

Now the heavy hand of war dealt equal woe and counterchange of death; in
even balance conquerors and conquered slew and fell; nor one nor other
knows of retreat. The gods in Jove's house pity the vain rage of either
and all the agonising of mortals. From one side Venus, from one opposite
Juno, daughter of Saturn, looks on; pale Tisiphone rages among the many
thousand men. But now, brandishing his huge spear, Mezentius strides
glooming over the plain, vast as Orion when, with planted foot, he
cleaves his way through the vast pools of mid-ocean and his shoulder
overtops the waves, or carrying an ancient mountain-ash from the
hilltops, paces the ground and hides his head among the clouds: so moves
Mezentius, huge in arms. Aeneas, espying him in the deep columns, makes
on to meet him. He remains, unterrified, awaiting his noble foe, steady
in his own bulk, and measures with his eye the fair range for a spear.
'This right hand's divinity, and the weapon I poise and hurl, now be
favourable! thee, Lausus, I vow for the live trophy of Aeneas, dressed
in the spoils stripped from the pirate's body.' He ends, and throws the
spear whistling from far; it flies on, glancing from the shield, and
pierces illustrious Antores hard by him sidelong in the flank; Antores,
companion of Hercules, who, sent thither from Argos, had stayed by
Evander, and [781-814]settled in an Italian town. Hapless he goes down
with a wound not his own, and in death gazes on the sky, and Argos is
sweet in his remembrance. Then good Aeneas throws his spear; through the
sheltering circle of threefold brass, through the canvas lining and
fabric of triple-sewn bull-hide it went, and sank deep in his groin; yet
carried not its strength home. Quickly Aeneas, joyful at the sight of
the Tyrrhenian's blood, snatches his sword from his thigh and presses
hotly on his struggling enemy. Lausus saw, and groaned deeply for love
of his dear father, and tears rolled over his face. Here will I not keep
silence of thy hard death-doom and thine excellent deeds (if in any wise
things w