to tell—and a frame that could thrice bear arms:
thrice had he to be struck down in death: yet from him
on that day this hand took all those three lives, and 35
thrice stripped that armour—never should I, as now, be
torn, my son, from your loved embrace. Never would
Mezentius have laid dishonour on a neighbour’s crest,
dealt with his sword that repeated havoc, and bereaved
my city of so many of her sons. But you, great powers
above, and thou, Jupiter, mightiest ruler of the gods,
have pity, I implore you, on an Arcadian monarch, and