Then, sourly smiling, thus the king replied: “For what belongs to me, let Jove provide; But die thou first, whatever chance ensue.” He said, and from the wound the weapon drew. A hov’ring mist came swimming o’er his sight, And seal’d his eyes in everlasting night. By Caedicus, Alcathous was slain; Sacrator laid Hydaspes on the plain; Orses the strong to greater strength must yield; He, with Parthenius, were by Rapo kill’d. Then brave Messapus Ericetes slew, Who from Lycaon’s blood his lineage drew. But from his headstrong horse his fate he found, Who threw his master, as he made a bound: The chief, alighting, stuck him to the ground; Then Clonius, hand to hand, on foot assails: The Trojan sinks, and Neptune’s son prevails. Agis the Lycian, stepping forth with pride, To single fight the boldest foe defied; Whom Tuscan Valerus by force o’ercame, And not belied his mighty father’s fame. Salius to death the great Antronius sent: But the same fate the victor underwent, Slain by Nealces’ hand, well-skill’d to throw The flying dart, and draw the far-deceiving bow. Thus equal deaths are dealt with equal chance; By turns they quit their ground, by turns advance: Victors and vanquish’d, in the various field, Nor wholly overcome, nor wholly yield. The gods from heav’n survey the fatal strife, And mourn the miseries of human life. Above the rest, two goddesses appear Concern’d for each: here Venus, Juno there. Amidst the crowd, infernal Ate shakes Her scourge aloft, and crest of hissing snakes. Once more the proud Mezentius, with disdain, Brandish’d his spear, and rush’d into the plain, Where tow’ring in the midmost rank he stood, Like tall Orion stalking o’er the flood. (When with his brawny breast he cuts the waves, His shoulders scarce the topmost billow laves), Or like a mountain ash, whose roots are spread, Deep fix’d in earth; in clouds he hides his head.