LXXXIII. There, quiver-girt, the Amazonian maid,
One bosom bare, amidst the carnage wheeled,
Camilla, glorying in the war's grim trade.
Her limber darts she scatters o'er the field,
Her arms untired the ponderous axe can wield.
Diana's arrows and the golden bow
Sound at her back. She too, if forced to yield,
Fights as she flies, and well the maid doth know		739
With flying shafts hurled back to stay the following foe.

LXXXIV. Around her, Tulla and Larinia stand,
Tarpeia too, with brazen axe bedight,
Italians all, the choicest of her band,
In peace or war her glory and delight.
So, battling round [Hippolyte,] unite
Her Thracians, when Thermodon's banks afar
Ring with their arms. So rides the maid of might,
[Penthesilea,] in her conquering car,		748
And hosts, with moon-shaped shields, exulting hail the war.
LXXXV. Whom first, dread maiden, did thy javelin quell?
Whom last? how many in the dust lay low?
Eunæus first, the son of Clytius, fell.
Sheer through his breast, left naked to the blow,
Ploughed the long fir-shaft, as he faced his foe.
Prone falls the warrior, and in deadly stound
Gasps out his life-blood, and the crimson flow
Spouts forth in torrents, as he bites the ground,		757
And, dying, grasps the spear, and writhes upon the wound.
LXXXVI. Liris anon and Pagasus she slew,
One, flung to earth, and gathering up the rein,
His charger stabbed, the other, as he flew
To aid, and reached his helpless hands in vain,
Amastrus, son of Hippotas, was slain;
Harpalycus, Demophoon, as they fled,
The dread spear caught, and stretched upon the plain,
Tereus and Chromis. For each shaft that sped,		766
Launched from her maiden hand, a Phrygian foe lay dead.
LXXXVII. On Iapygian steed, in arms unknown,
Rode Ornytus, the huntsman. A rough hide,
Stript from a bullock, o'er his back was thrown.
A wolf's huge jaws, with glittering teeth, supplied
His helmet, and a rustic pike he plied.
Him, as he towered, the tallest in the fray,
Wheeling his steed, Camilla unespied
Caught—in the rout 'twas easy—and her prey		775
Pinned, with unpitying spear, and jeered him as he lay.
LXXXVIII. "Ha, Tuscan! thought'st thou 'twas the chase? Thy day
Hath come; a woman shall thy vaunts belie.
Yet take this glory to the grave, and say
'Twas I, the great Camilla, made thee die."
She spake, and smote Orsilochus close by,
And Butes, hugest of the Trojan crew.
First Butes falls; just where the neck doth lie,
'Twixt casque and corslet, naked to the view,		784
And leftward droops the shield, the fatal barb goes through.
LXXXIX. Chased by Orsilochus, afar she wheels
Her seeming flight, wide-circling to and fro,
Till, doubling in a narrower ring, she steals
Inside, and follows on the following foe.
Then, rising steep, while vainly in his woe
He pleads for pity, and entreats her grace,
She swings the battle-axe, and blow on blow
On head and riven helmet heaps apace,		793
And the hot brains and blood are spattered o'er his face.
XC. Next crossed her path, but stood aghast to see,
The son of Aunus, from the mountain-seat
Of Apennine. No mean Ligurian he,
While Fate was kind, and prospered his deceit.
Fearful of death, and hopeless to retreat,
He tries if cunning can avail his need,
And cries aloud, "Good sooth, a wondrous feat!
A woman trusts for glory to her steed.		802
Come down; fight fair afoot, and take the braggart's meed!"
XCI. Down leaps the maid in fury, and her steed
Hands to a comrade, and with arms matched fair,
And dauntless heart, confronts him on the mead,
Her shield unblazoned, and her falchion bare.
He, vainly glorying in his fancied snare,
Reins round in haste, and, spurring, strives to flee.
"Fool," cries Camilla, "let thy pride beware.
Think not to palm thy father's tricks on me,		811
Nor hope with craft like this thy lying sire to see."