XXXVII. Aulestes first, a king with kingly crown, Messapus scares, and, spurring forward, fain To break the treaty, rides the Tuscan down. He, bating ground, falls back, and hurled amain Against the altars, pitches on the plain. Up comes Messapus, with his beam-like spear, And smites him, pleading sorely but in vain, Steep-rising heavily smites him, with a jeer, "He hath it; Heaven hath gained a better victim here." XXXVIII. Up Latins rush, and strip the limbs yet warm, A brand half-burnt fierce Corynoeus there Flings full at Ebusus, as with lifted arm He nears him, and the long beard, all aflare, Shines crackling, with a smell of burning hair. He with his left hand, following up the throw, Grasps the long locks, and, planting firm and fair His knee, beneath him pins the prostrate foe, And drives the stark sword home, so deadly is the blow. XXXIX. Then, fired with fury, Podalirius flew At shepherd Alsus, as he rushed among The foremost. With his naked sword he drew Behind him close, and o'er his foeman hung. He turning round his broad axe backward swung, And clave the chin and forehead. Left and right The dark blood o'er the spattered arms outsprung. Hard rest and iron slumber seal his sight, The drooping eyelids close on everlasting night. XL. Unarmed, AEneas, with uncovered brow, Stretched out his hands, and shouted to his train: "Where rush ye, men? what sudden discord now Is this? Be calm; your idle wrath refrain. The truce is struck; the treaty's terms are plain. To me belongs the battle, not to you. Give way to me, nor fret and fume in vain. This hand shall make the treaty firm and true. These rites, this solemn pact give Turnus for my due." XLI. So spake he, fain the tumult to allay, And scarce had ceased, when, whistling as it flew, A feathered shaft came hurtling on its way, And smote the good AEneas; whose, and who That shaft had sped, what wind had borne it true, What chance with fame Ausonia's host had crowned, What God, perhaps, had aided them--none knew. The glory of that noble deed was drowned, And none was found to boast of great AEneas' wound. XLII. When Turnus saw the Trojan prince retire, The chiefs bewildered, and their hearts unstrung, Hope unexpected set his soul on fire, And, calling for his steeds and arms, he sprung Upon his chariot, and the reins outflung. On drives he; many a hero of renown Sinks, crushed to death; the dying roll among The dead; whole ranks beneath his wheels go down, And fast at flying hosts the fliers' spears are thrown.