At the full stretch of both his hands, he drew, And almost joined, the horns of the tough yew.[4] But, first, before the throne of Jove he stood, And thus with lifted hands invoked the god:-- "My first attempt, great Jupiter, succeed! An annual offering in thy grove shall bleed, A snow-white steer, before thy altar led, Who, like his mother, bears aloft his head, Butts with his threatening brows, and bellowing stands, And dares the fight, and spurns the yellow sands." Jove bowed the heavens, and lent a gracious ear, And thundered on the left, amidst the clear. Sounded at once the bow; and swiftly flies The feathered death, and hisses through the skies. The steel through both his temples forced the way: Extended on the ground, Numanus lay. "Go now, vain boaster! and true valour scorn! The Phrygians, twice subdued, yet make this third return." Ascanius said no more. The Trojans shake The heavens with shouting, and new vigour take. Apollo then bestrode a golden cloud, } To view the feats of arms, and fighting crowd; } And thus the beardless victor he bespoke aloud:-- } "Advance, illustrious youth! increase in fame, And wide from east to west extend thy name-- Offspring of gods thyself; and Rome shall owe To thee a race of demigods below. This is the way to heaven: the powers divine From this beginning date the Julian line. To thee, to them, and their victorious heirs, The conquered war is due, and the vast world is theirs. Troy is too narrow for thy name." He said, And plunging downward shot his radiant head; Dispelled the breathing air, that broke his flight: Shorn of his beams, a man to mortal sight, Old Butes' form he took, Anchises' squire, Now left, to rule Ascanius, by his sire: His wrinkled visage, and his hoary hairs, } His mien, his habit, and his arms, he wears, } And thus salutes the boy, too forward for his years:-- } "Suffice it thee, thy father's worthy son, The warlike prize thou hast already won. The god of archers gives thy youth a part Of his own praise, nor envies equal art. Now tempt the war no more." He said, and flew Obscure in air, and vanished from their view. The Trojans, by his arms, their patron know, And hear the twanging of his heavenly bow. Then duteous force they use, and Phœbus' name, To keep from fight the youth too fond of fame. Undaunted, they themselves no danger shun; From wall to wall, the shouts and clamours run; They bend their bows; they whirl their slings around; } Heaps of spent arrows fall, and strew the ground; } And helms, and shields, and rattling arms, resound. } The combat thickens, like the storm that flies From westward, when the showery Kids arise; Or pattering hail comes pouring on the main,