Soon shifts his weary side, and, scarce awake, With wonder feels the weight press lighter on his back. The warrior god the Latian troops inspired, New strung their sinews, and their courage fired, But chills the Trojan hearts with cold affright: Then black despair precipitates their flight. When Pandarus beheld his brother killed, The town with fear and wild confusion filled, He turns the hinges of the heavy gate With both his hands, and adds his shoulders to the weight; Some happier friends within the walls inclosed; The rest shut out, to certain death exposed: Fool as he was, and frantic in his care, To admit young Turnus, and include the war! He thrust amid the crowd, securely bold, Like a fierce tyger pent amid the fold. Too late his blazing buckler they descry, And sparkling fires that shot from either eye, His mighty members, and his ample breast, His rattling armour, and his crimson crest. Far from that hated face the Trojans fly, All but the fool who sought his destiny. Mad Pandarus steps forth, with vengeance vowed For Bitias' death, and threatens thus aloud:-- "These are not Ardea's walls, nor this the town Amata proffers with Lavinia's crown: 'Tis hostile earth you tread. Of hope bereft, No means of safe return by flight are left." To whom, with countenance calm, and soul sedate, Thus Turnus:--"Then begin, and try thy fate: My message to the ghost of Priam bear; Tell him a new Achilles sent thee there." A lance of tough ground-ash the Trojan threw, Rough in the rind, and knotted as it grew: With his full force he whirled it first around; But the soft yielding air received the wound: Imperial Juno turned the course before, And fixed the wandering weapon in the door. "But hope not thou," said Turnus, "when I strike, To shun thy fate: our force is not alike, Nor thy steel tempered by the Lemnian god." Then rising, on his utmost stretch he stood, And aimed from high: the full descending blow Cleaves the broad front and beardless cheeks in two. Down sinks the giant with a thundering sound: } His ponderous limbs oppress the trembling ground; } Blood, brains, and foam, gush from the gaping wound. } Scalp, face, and shoulders, the keen steel divides; And the shared visage hangs on equal sides. The Trojans fly from their approaching fate: And, had the victor then secured the gate, And, to his troops without, unclosed the bars, One lucky day had ended all his wars. But boiling youth, and blind desire of blood, Push on his fury, to pursue the crowd. Hamstringed behind, unhappy Gyges died; Then Phalaris is added to his side. The pointed javelins from the dead he drew, And their friends' arms against their fellows threw. Strong Halys stands in vain; weak Phegeus flies;