Now there stumbles upon her, and pauses in terror at the
sudden apparition, the warrior son of Aunus, dweller on
the Apennine, not the meanest of Liguria’s children while 35
Fate prospered his trickery. He, when he sees no speed
of flight can escape the combat, or avoid the onset of the
dreadful queen, essaying to gain his base end by policy
and stratagem, thus begins: “What great glory is it
after all, if you, a woman, trust your mettled steed? Put
away the chance of flight, and dare to meet me hand to
hand on equal ground, and gird you for battle on foot: