CII. Stern Mars, impartial, weighs in equal scale
The mutual slaughter, and the ghastly fight
Raves, as in turn they perish or prevail,
Vanquished or victor, for none dreams of flight.
From Heaven the gods look pitying on the sight,
Such fruitless hate, such scenes of mortal woe.
Here Venus, there great Juno, filled with spite,
Sits watching. Pale Tisiphone below		910
Fierce amid thousands raves, and bids the discord grow.
CIII. His massive spear Mezentius, flown with pride,
Shakes in his fury, as he towers amain,
Like huge Orion, when with ample stride
He cleaves the deep-sea, where the Nereids reign,
And lifts his lofty shoulders o'er the main,
Or when, uprooting from the mountain head
An aged ash, he stalks along the plain,
And hides his forehead in the clouds; so dread		919
Mezentius clangs his arms, so terrible his tread.
CIV. Æneas marks him in the files of fight
Far off, and hastes to meet him in advance.
Dauntless he waits, collected in his might,
The noble foe, then, measuring at a glance
The space his arm can cover with the lance;
"May this right hand, my deity," cried he,
"And this poised javelin aid the doubtful chance.
The spoils, from this false pirate stript, to thee		928
My Lausus, I devote; his trophy shalt thou be."
CV. So saying, from far his whistling shaft he threw.
Wide glanced the missile, by the tough shield bent,
And finding famed Antores, as it flew,
'Twixt flank and bowels pierced a deadly rent.
He, friend of Hercules, from Argos sent,
With king Evander, 'neath Italian skies,
Had fixed his home. Alas! a wound unmeant
Hath laid him low. To heaven he lifts his eyes,		937
And of sweet Argos dreams, his native land, and dies.
CVI. His javelin then the good Æneas cast;
Flying it pierced the hollow disk, and through
The plates of brass, thrice welded firm and fast,
And linen folds, and triple bull-hides flew,
And in the groin, with failing force but true,
Lodged deep. At once Æneas, for his eye
Glistens with joy, the Tuscan's blood to view,
His trusty sword unfastening from his thigh,		946
Springs at the faltering foe, and bids Mezentius die.

CVII. Love for his sire stirred Lausus, and the tears
Rolled down, and heavily he groaned. Thy fate,
Brave youth! thy prowess, if the far-off years
Shall give due credence to a deed so great,
My verse at least shall spare not to relate.
While backward limped Mezentius, spent and slow,
His shield still cumbered with the javelin's weight,
Forth sprang the youth, and grappled with the foe,		955
And 'neath Æneas' sword, uplifted for the blow,
CVIII. Slipped in, and checked him. Onward press the train
With shouts, to shelter the retreating sire,
And distant arrows on the foeman rain.
Safe-covered stands Æneas, thrilled with ire.
As when the storm-clouds in a deluge dire
Pour down the hail, and all the ploughmen fly,
And scattered hinds from off the fields retire,
And rock or stream-side shields the passer-by,		964
Till sunshine calls to toil, and reawakes the sky;
CIX. So, whelmed with darts, the Trojan chief defies
The cloud of war, till all its storms abate,
And chides and threatens Lausus. "Fool," he cries,
"Why rush to death, and dare a deed too great?
Rash youth! thy love betrays thee." 'Twas too late;
Rage blinds poor Lausus, and he scorns to stay.
Then fiercer waxed the Dardan's wrath, and Fate
The threads had gathered, for their forceful sway		973
Hilt-deep within his breast the falchion urged its way.
CX. It pierced the shield, light armour and the vest,
Wrought by his mother with fine golden thread,
And drenched with gore the tunic and the breast.
Sweet life, departing, left the limbs outspread,
And the sad spirit to the ghost-world fled.
But when the son of great Anchises scanned
The face, the pallid features of the dead,
Deeply he groaned, and stretched a pitying hand.		982
Grief for his own dear sire his noble soul unmanned.