bar the way.
Nor is Æneas wanting, though at times the arrow
wound slackens his knees and robs them of their power 20
to run: no, he follows on, and presses upon the flier foot
for foot: as when a hound has got a stag pent in by a
river, or hedged about by the terror of crimson plumage,
and chases him running and barking: the stag, frighted
by the snare and the steep bank, doubles a thousand times: 25
the keen Umbrian clings open-mouthed to his skirts, all
but seizes him, and as though in act to seize, snaps his