Immediately there’s a loud howl of protest, Salius shrieking in the elders’ faces With cries of _Foul!_ and _Outrage!_ “I was robbed, Give me first prize!” But all the popular favor Sides with Euryalus, who is young, and weeping, And better-looking; and Diores backs him, Loudly, of course, since who would get the helmet If Salius was first? Aeneas ends it:-- “The race will stand as run; you get your prizes As first proposed; no one will change the order; But one thing I can do, and will do,--offer A consolation to our innocent friend.” With this, he gives a lion-skin to Salius, Heavy with shaggy hair, and the claws gilded. Nisus is heard from:--“If you’re giving prizes For falling down, what’s good enough for Nisus? I would have won it surely, only Fortune Gave me the same bad deal she handed Salius!” And with the words he made a sudden gesture Showing his muddy face. Aeneas, laughing, Ordered another prize, a shield for him, The work of Didymaon, stolen by Greeks, From Neptune’s temple sometime, but recovered, A worthy prize for a distinguished hero. Next is a boxing-bout. “Whoever has courage And fighting spirit in his heart, step forward And put the gloves on!” There are double prizes, For the winner a bullock, decked with gold and ribbons, A sword and shining helmet for the loser. Without delay, Dares gets up; a murmur Runs through the crowd as this big man comes forward. They know that he was Paris’ sparring-partner, And they recall his famous match with Butes At Hector’s tomb, where he knocked out that champion And stretched him dying on the yellow sand. Now Dares holds his head up for the battle, Shakes his broad shoulders loose, warms up a little, A left, a right, a left, in shadow-boxing. Who will oppose him? No one puts the gloves on, No one, from all that throng, is in a hurry To take on Dares. So, exultant, thinking Himself a winner by default, he grabs The bullock by one horn, says to Aeneas:-- “If no man, goddess-born, is taking chances, How long must I keep standing here? How long Hang around waiting? Give the order, let me Lead home my prize!” The Trojans all applaud him. But king Acestes, sprawling on the greensward Beside Entellus, nudges him a little:-- “What was the use, Entellus, of being a hero, Of having been our bravest, under Eryx? Where is that old Sicilian reputation, And all those prizes hanging from the rafters? Does Dares get away with this, no contest, And all those prizes, and you sit here tamely?” Entellus answers, “Oh, I still love glory And praise; there’s nothing the matter with my courage, But I’m too old, the blood is slow and colder, The strength not what it used to be. That bragger Has one thing, youth, and how he revels in it!