XXXIX. This contest o'er, the good AEneas sought A grassy plain, with waving forests crowned And sloping hills--fit theatre for sport, Where in the middle of the vale was found A circus. Hither comes he, ringed around With thousands, here, amidst them, throned on high In rustic state, he seats him on a mound, And all who in the footrace list to vie, With proffered gifts invites, and tempts their souls to try. XL. In crowds the Teucrians and Sicanians come, First, Nisus and Euryalus. None so fair As young Euryalus, in youthful bloom And beauty; none with Nisus could compare In pure affection for a youth so rare. Here stood Diores, famous for his speed, A prince of Priam's lineage; Salius there, And Patron, this of Acarnanian seed, That of Arcadian birth and Tegeaean breed. XLI. Came from Trinacria two champions bold, Young Helymus and Panopes, well-tried In woodland craft, and followers of old Acestes; came full many a youth beside, Whose fame shines dimly, or whose name hath died. Then cries AEneas 'mid the concourse: "Ho! Give heed, for surely shall my word abide, Blithe be your hearts, for none among you--no, Not one of all this crowd--without a gift shall go. XLII. "To each, a common largess, be a pair Of Gnossian javelins and an axe decreed, With haft of silver chasings. Three shall wear Crowns of pale olive. For the victor's need, Adorned with trappings, stands a noble steed. A quiver, worn by Amazon of old, With Thracian arrows, for the next in speed, Clasped with a gem and belted with bright gold. The third this Argive helm, fit recompense, shall hold." XLIII. He spake, and at the signal forth they burst Together, like a storm-cloud, from the base, With eager eyes set goalward. Nisus first Darts off, and, bounding with the South-wind's pace, And swift as winged lightning, leads the race. Next, but the next with many a length between, Comes Salius; then, behind him, third in place, Euryalus; then Helymus is seen; And lo! Diores last, comes flying along the green. XLIV. Heel touching heel, on Helymus he hung, Shoulder to shoulder. But a rood beside, And, slipping past him, foremost he had sprung, And solved a doubt by winning. Side by side, The last lap reached, with many a labouring stride And breathless effort to the post they strain, When lo! chance-tripping where the sward is dyed With slippery blood of oxen newly slain, Down luckless Nisus slides, and sprawls upon the plain.