“But now the prince, who saw the wild increase Of wounds, commands the combatants to cease, And bounds Entellus’ wrath, and bids the peace. First to the Trojan, spent with toil, he came, And soothed his sorrow for the suffered shame. ‘What fury seized my friend? The gods,’ said he, ‘To him propitions, are averse to thee, Have given his arm superior force to thine, ’Tis madness to contend with strength divine.’ The gauntlet fight thus ended, from the shore His faithful friends the unhappy Dares bore: His mouth and nostrils poured a purple flood, And pounded teeth came rushing with his blood. Faintly he staggered through the hissing throng, And hung his head and trailed his legs along. The sword and casque are carried by his train, But with his foe the palm and ox remain.” The reader will doubtless be forcibly struck with the close imitation of Homer by the later epic poet. The length of this account—given, as are those in the ensuing pages, under the name of the winner—will render superfluous a lengthy notice of the vanquished— DARES, another of the companions of Æneas, who also, like St. Patrick, was “a jontleman, and came of dacent people.” Indeed, we see that he claimed to be descended from King Amycus. Your ancient pugilists seem to have been as anxious about “blood” as a modern horse-breeder. Dares was afterwards slain by Turnus in Italy. See Virg. Æneid, v. 369, xii. 363. CLOANTHUS, too, fought some good battles; and from him the noble Roman family of the Cluentii boasted their descent. In “Æneid,” v. 122, he wins the rowing match.