"Rhoebus, o'erlong--if aught be long to men that pass away-- Have we twain lived: those bloody spoils shalt thou bring home today, And carrying Æneas' head avenge my Lausus' woe. Or if our might no more may make a road whereby to go, Thou too shalt fall: I deem indeed thou, stout-heart, hast no will To suffer other men's commands, or Trojan joy fulfil." And therewithal he backeth him, and as he used of old Settleth his limbs: good store of shafts his either hand doth hold: His head is glittering o'er with brass, and horse-hair shags his crest. So midmost of the fight he bears, and ever in his breast 870 Swelleth the mighty sea of shame and mingled miseries. And now across the fight his voice thrice on Æneas cries. Æneas knew it well forsooth, and joyfully he prayed: "So grant the Father of the Gods! So may Apollo aid That thou may'st fall on me in fight!" So much he spake, and went his way to meet the foeman's shaft; But spake the other: "Bitter wretch, who took'st away my son, Why fright me now? by that one way my heart might be undone: No death I dread, no God that is, in battle would I spare. Enough--I come to thee to die; but first these gifts I bear." 880 He spake the word, and 'gainst the foe a dart withal he cast, And shaft on shaft he lays on him about him flitting fast, Wide circling; but the golden boss through all the storm bore out Thrice while Æneas faceth him he rides the ring about, Casting the weapons from his hand; and thrice the Trojan lord Bears round a mighty thicket set in brazen battle-board. But when such tarrying wearieth him, such plucking forth of spears, And standing in such ill-matched fight the heart within him wears, Turning the thing o'er manywise, he breaketh forth to speed A shaft amid the hollow brow of that war-famous steed: 890 Then beating of the air with hoof uprears the four-foot thing And with his fallen master falls, and 'neath his cumbering Weighs down his shoulders brought to earth, and heavy on him lies. Then Trojan men and Latin men with shouting burn the skies, And swift Æneas runneth up and pulleth forth his sword, And crieth o'er him: "Where is now Mezentius, eager lord? Where is the fierce heart?" Unto whom the Tuscan spake, when he Got sense again, and breathed the air, and o'er him heaven did see: "O bitter foe, why chidest thou? why slayest thou with words? 899 Slay me and do no wrong! death-safe I came not mid the swords; And no such covenant of war for us my Lausus bought: One thing I pray, if vanquished men of grace may gain them aught, Let the earth hide me! well I know how bitter and how nigh My people's wrath draws in on me: put thou their fury by, And in the tomb beside my son I pray thee let me lie."