others fly, and retreat far away at full speed. As when the sea, advancing with its tide that ebbs and flows, one 25 while sweeps towards the land, deluges the rocks with a shower of spray, and sprinkles the sandy margin with the contents of its bosom, one while flees in hasty retreat, dragging back into the gulf the recaptured stones, and with ebbing waters leaves the shore. Twice the Tuscans 30 drove the Rutulians in rout to their walls; twice, repulsed, they look behind as they sling their shields backward. But when in the shock of a third encounter the entire armies grapple each other, and man has singled out man, then in truth upsoar the groans of the dying, and arms and 35 bodies and death-stricken horses blended with human carnage welter in pools of gore: and a savage combat is aroused. Orsilochus hurls a spear at Remulus’ horse—for the rider he feared to encounter—and leaves the steel lodged under the ear. Maddened by the blow, the beast rears erect, and, uplifting its breast, flings its legs on high in the uncontrolled agony of the wound: Remulus unseated rolls on earth, Catillus dismounts Iollas, and likewise 5 Herminius, giant in courage, and giant too in stature and girth: his bare head streams with yellow locks, and his shoulders also are bare: wounds have no terrors for him, so vast the surface he offers to the weapon. Through his broad shoulders comes the quivering spear, and bows 10 the impaled hero double with anguish. Black streams of gore gush on all sides: the combatants spread slaughter with the steel, and rush on glorious death through a storm of wounds.