Amid the scattering fires he lay supinely spread.
The beamy spear, descending from above,
His cuirass pierced, and through his body drove.
Then, with a scornful smile, the victor cries:—
"The gods have found a fitter sacrifice."
Greedy of spoils, the Italians strip the dead
Of his rich armour, and uncrown his head.
Priest Corynæus armed his better hand,
From his own altar, with a blazing brand;
And, as Ebusus with a thundering pace