of his plighted bride, even as oft a famished lion ranging 25 through high-built stalls—for frantic hunger is his prompter—if he chance to mark a flying goat or towering-antlered deer, grins with huge delight, sets up his mane, and hangs over the rent flesh, while loathly blood laves his insatiate jaws—so joyfully springs Mezentius 30 on the foe’s clustering mass. Down goes ill-starred Acron, spurns the blackened ground in the pangs of death, and dyes with blood the broken spear. Nor did the chief deign to strike down Orodes as he fled, or deal from a spear-throw a wound unseen; full in front he meets him, 35 and engages him as man should man, prevailing not by guile but by sheer force of steel. Then with foot and lance planted on the back-flung body: “See, gallants, a bulwark of the war has fallen in tall Orodes,” and his comrades shout in unison, taking up the triumphal pæan. The dying man returns: “Whoever thou art, thy victorious boasting shall not be long or unavenged; for thee, too, a like fate is watching, and thou shalt soon lie on 5 these self-same fields.” Mezentius answers, with hate mantling in his smile: “Die now. The sire of gods and king of men shall make his account with me.” So saying, he drew forth the spear from the body: the heavy rest of iron slumber settles down on its eyes, and their beams 10 are curtained in everlasting night. Cædicus slaughters Alcathous, Sacrator Hydaspes, Rapo kills Parthenius and Orses of iron frame, Messapus slays Clonius and Ericetes, Lycaon’s son, that grovelling on the ground by a fall from his unbridled steed, this encountered 15 foot to foot. Prancing forward came Agis of Lycia; but Valerus, no unworthy heir of his grandsire’s prowess, hurls him down; Thronius falls by Salius, and Salius by Nealces, hero of the javelin and the shaft that surprises from far. 20