Then, creeping, clasped the hero's knees, and prayed: "By young Iulus, by thy father's shade, O! spare my life, and send me back to see My longing sire, and tender progeny. A lofty house I have, and wealth untold, In silver ingots, and in bars of gold: All these, and sums besides, which see no day, The ransom of this one poor life shall pay. If I survive, shall Troy the less prevail? A single soul's too light to turn the scale." He said. The hero sternly thus replied:--- "Thy bars and ingots, and the sums beside, Leave for thy children's lot. Thy Turnus broke All rules of war by one relentless stroke, When Pallas fell: so deems, nor deems alone, My father's shadow, but my living son." Thus having said, of kind remorse bereft, He seized his helm, and dragged him with his left; Then with his right hand, while his neck he wreathed, Up to the hilts his shining faulchion sheathed. Apollo's priest, Hæmonides, was near; His holy fillets on his front appear; Glittering in arms, he shone amidst the crowd, Much of his god, more of his purple, proud. Him the fierce Trojan followed through the field: The holy coward fell; and, forced to yield, The prince stood o'er the priest, and, at one blow, Sent him an offering to the shades below. His arms Serestus on his shoulders bears, Designed a trophy to the god of wars. Vulcanian Cæculus renews the fight, And Umbro born upon the mountain's height. The champion cheers his troops to encounter those, And seeks revenge himself on other foes. At Anxur's shield he drove; and, at the blow, Both shield and arm to ground together go. Anxur had boasted much of magic charms, And thought he wore impenetrable arms, So made by muttered spells; and, from the spheres, Had life secured, in vain, for length of years. Then Tarquitus the field in triumph trod; A nymph his mother, and his sire a god. Exulting in bright arms, he braves the prince: With his protended lance he makes defence; Bears back his feeble foe; then, pressing on, Arrests his better hand, and drags him down; Stands o'er the prostrate wretch, and (as he lay, Vain tales inventing, and prepared to pray) Mows off his head: the trunk a moment stood, Then sunk, and rolled along the sand in blood. The vengeful victor thus upbraids the slain:-- "Lie there, proud man, unpitied on the plain; Lie there, inglorious, and without a tomb, Far from thy mother and thy native home, Exposed to savage beasts, and birds of prey, Or thrown for food to monsters of the sea." On Lucas and Antæus next he ran, Two chiefs of Turnus, and who led his van. They fled for fear; with these, he chased along } Camers the yellow-locked, and Numa strong; } Both great in arms, and both were fair and young. }