E'en as Ægæon, who they say had arms an hundred-fold, And hundred hands, from fifty mouths and maws the wildfire rolled, What time in arms against the bolts from Jove of Heaven that flew He clashed upon the fifty shields and fifty sword-points drew: So conquering, over all the mead Æneas' fury burns 569 When once his sword is warm with death: and now, behold, he turns Upon Niphæus' four-yoked steeds, and breasts their very breath. But when they see him striding far, and threatening doom and death, In utter dread they turn about, and rushing back again, They shed their master on the earth and shoreward drag the wain. Meanwhile with twi-yoked horses white fares Lucagus midst men, His brother Liger by his side, who holdeth rein as then, And turneth steed, while Lucagus the drawn sword whirleth wide. Them and their war-rage in no wise Æneas might abide, But on he rushes, showing huge with upheaved threatening shaft. Then Liger cast a word at him: 580 "No steeds of Diomede thou seest, and no Achilles' car Or Phrygian fields: this hour shall end thy life-days and the war Here on this earth." Such words as these from witless Liger stray, But nought in bandying of words the man of Troy would play; Rather his mighty battle-shaft he hurled against the foe, While Lucagus his horses drives with spear-butt, bending low Over the lash, and setteth forth his left foot for the fight. Beneath the bright shield's nether rim the spear-shaft takes its flight, Piercing his groin upon the left: then shaken from his wain, He tumbleth down and rolleth o'er in death upon the plain. 590 To whom a fierce and bitter word godly Æneas said: "Ho, Lucagus! no dastard flight of steeds thy car betrayed, No empty shadow turned them back from facing of the foe, But thou thyself hast leapt from wheel and let the yoke-beasts go." He spake, and caught the reins withal; slipped down that wretched one His brother, and stretched forth the hands that little deed had done: "By thee, by those that brought thee forth so glorious unto day, O Trojan hero, spare my life, and pity me that pray!" Æneas cut athwart his speech: "Not so erewhile ye spake. Die! ill it were for brother thus a brother to forsake." 600 And in his breast the sword he drave home to the house of breath. Thus through the meads the Dardan Duke set forth the tale of death, With rage as of the rushing flood, or whirl-storm of the wind. At last they break forth into field and leave their camp behind, Ascanius and the lads of war in vain beleaguerèd.