Then good Æneas hurls his spear; through the hollow
disk with its triple plating of brass, through the folds of
linen and the texture wherein three bulls joined, it won
its way and lodged low down in the groin, but its force
held not on. In a moment Æneas, gladdened by the sight 20
of the Tuscan’s blood, plucks his sword from his thigh
and presses hotly on his unnerved foe.
Soon as Lausus saw, he gave a heavy groan of tenderness
for the sire he loved, and tears trickled down his
face. And here, gallant youth, neither the cruel chance 25