levelled his spear from afar at Magus. Magus deftly runs 30
beneath, while the quivering spear flies over his head,
and clasping the enemy’s knees, utters these words of
suppliance: “By your dead father’s soul, and the dawning
promise of Iulus, I pray you spare my poor life for
my son and my sire. I have a lofty palace: deep in its 35
vaults lie talents of chased silver; masses of gold are
mine, wrought and unwrought both. The victory of Troy
hangs not on my fortunes, nor can a single life make
difference so great.” He spoke, and Æneas thus makes