The Trojan prince beheld him from afar,
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."