depths that part before him, or as carrying an aged ash
in triumph from the hill-top he plants his tread on the 35
ground, and hides his head among the clouds above:
thus it is that Mezentius in enormous bulk shoulders his
way. Æneas spies him along the length of the battle,
and makes haste to march against him. He abides undismayed,
waiting for his gallant foe, and stands like
column on its base; then, measuring with his eye the
distance that may suffice for his spear, “Now let my right
hand, the god of my worship, and the missile dart I am 5