And dauntless undertook the doubtful war. Collected in his strength, and like a rock Poised on his base, Mezentius stood the shock. He stood, and, measuring first with careful eyes The space his spear could reach, aloud he cries:-- "My strong right hand, and sword, assist my stroke! (Those only gods Mezentius will invoke) His armour, from the Trojan pirate torn, By my triumphant Lausus shall be worn." He said; and with his utmost force he threw The massy spear, which, hissing as it flew, Reached the celestial shield: that stopped the course; But, glancing thence, the yet unbroken force Took a new bent obliquely, and, betwixt The side and bowels, famed Antores fixed. Antores had from Argos travelled far, Alcides' friend, and brother of the war; Till, tired with toils, fair Italy he chose, And in Evander's palace sought repose. Now falling by another's wound, his eyes He casts to heaven, on Argos thinks, and dies. The pious Trojan then his javelin sent; The shield gave way; through triple plates it went Of solid brass, of linen triply rolled, And three bull-hides which round the buckler rolled. All these it passed, resistless in the course, Transpierced his thigh, and spent its dying force. The gaping wound gushed out a crimson flood. The Trojan, glad with sight of hostile blood, His faulchion drew, to closer fight addressed, And with new force his fainting foe oppressed. His father's peril Lausus viewed with grief; He sighed, he wept, he ran to his relief. And here, heroic youth, 'tis here I must To thy immortal memory be just, And sing an act so noble and so new, Posterity will scarce believe 'tis true. Pained with his wound, and useless for the fight, The father sought to save himself by flight: Encumbered, slow he dragged the spear along, Which pierced his thigh, and in his buckler hung. The pious youth, resolved on death, below } The lifted sword, springs forth to face the foe; } Protects his parent, and prevents the blow. } Shouts of applause ran ringing through the field, To see the son the vanquished father shield. All, fired with generous indignation, strive, And with a storm of darts, to distance drive The Trojan chief, who, held at bay from far, On his Vulcanian orb sustained the war. As, when thick hail comes rattling in the wind, The ploughman, passenger, and labouring hind, For shelter to the neighbouring covert fly, Or, housed, or safe in hollow caverns, lie; But, that o'erblown, when heaven above them smiles, Return to travail, and renew their toils: Æneas thus, o'erwhelmed on every side, } The storm of darts, undaunted, did abide; } And thus to Lausus loud with friendly threatening cried:-- } "Why wilt thou rush to certain death, and rage