XCI. But when the Sire AEneas heard the name Of Turnus, and his foeman's form espied, Down from the ramparts and the towers he came, And scorned delay, and put all else aside, Thundering in arms, and glorying in his pride. As Athos huge, as Eryx huge he shows, Or huge as Father Apennine, whose side Roars with his nodding oaks, when drifted snows Shine on his joyous crest, and lighten on his brows. XCII. Rutulians, Trojans, Latins,--each and all Look wondering on, both they who man the height, And they who batter at the base. Down fall Their arms. Amazed Latinus views the sight, Two chiefs from distant countries, matched in might. The lists set wide, they dash into the fray. Each hurls a spear, then, hand to hand, they fight. Loud ring the shields, and quick the broadswords play. Earth groans, and chance contends with courage for the day. XCIII. As on Taburnus, or in Sila's shade Two bulls, with butting foreheads, mix in fray: Pale fly the hinds, mute stands the herd dismayed: The heifers low, unknowing who shall sway The grove, what lord and leader to obey; They, with horns locked, their mutual rage outpour, And thrust for thrust, and wound for wound repay, Fast from their necks and dewlaps streams the gore, And all the neighbouring wood rebellows to the roar; XCIV. So, when both champions on the listed field, The Trojan and the Daunian, eye to eye, Met in the deadly conflict, shield to shield Clanged, and a loud crash shattered through the sky. And now great Jove, the Sire of gods on high, Holds up the scales, and sets the long beam straight, And in the balance lays their fates, to try Each champion's fortune in the stern debate, Whom battle's toil shall doom, where sinks the deathful weight. XCV. Forth springs, in fancied safety, at his foe Fierce Turnus, rising to his utmost height, And planting all his body in the blow, Strikes. A loud shout, of terror and delight Goes up from Troy and Latium at the sight. When lo, the falchion, as the stroke he plies, Snaps short, and leaves him helpless. Naught but flight Can aid him; swifter than the wind he flies, As in his hand disarmed an unknown hilt he spies. XCVI. When first his steeds were harnessed for the war, In haste he snatched Metiscus' sword, 'tis said, His sire's forgotten, as he climbed the car, And well enough that weapon served his stead, To smite the stragglers, while the Trojans fled; But when it met, and countered in the fray The arms of Vulcan, then the mortal blade, Found faithless, like the brittle ice, gave way, And in the yellow sand the sparkling fragments lay.