XLV. Elsewhere afield, amid the foremost, fought
The brave Eumedes. (From the loins he came
Of noble [Dolon,] and to war he brought
The borrowed lustre of his grandsire's name,
The strength and spirit of his sire of fame,
Who for his meed, when offering to explore
The Danaan camp, Pelides' car would claim.
Poor fool! Tydides paid the boaster's score,		397
And for Achilles' steeds he hankers now no more.)
XLVI. Him Turnus sees, and through the void afar
Speeds a light lance, then bids the coursers stand,
And, lightly leaping from his two-horsed car,
Stamps on his neck, fall'n breathless on the sand,
And wrests the shining dagger from his hand.
Deep in his throat he deals a deadly wound,
And cries, "Now, Trojan, take the wished-for land.
Lie there, and measure the Hesperian ground;		406
Their meed, who tempt my sword; thus city-walls they found."
XLVII. Asbutes, Sybaris and Chloreus bleed,
Dares the bold, Orsilochus the brave,
Thymoetes, pitched from off his plunging steed.
As on the Ægean when the North-winds rave,
And the fierce gale rolls shoreward wave on wave,
And drives the cloud-rack through the sky; so these
Shrank back from Turnus, as his path he clave,
Urged by his impulse, and each turns and flees;		415
Loose streams his horsehair crest, blown backward by the breeze.
XLVIII. His fiery onset, and his shouts of pride
Bold Phlegeus brooked not, but himself he flung
Before the car, and caught and turned aside
The foaming steeds. But while, thus dragged along,
Grasping the bridle, on the yoke he hung,
His shieldless side the broad-tipt javelin found,
And pierced, and, staying, to the corslet clung,
With linen folds and brazen links twice bound.		424
And lightly scored the skin, and grazed him with the wound.
XLIX. His shield before him, at the foe he made,
And drew his short sword, turning sharply round,
And trusted to the naked steel for aid,
When wheel and axle, urged with onward bound,
Struck down and dashed him headlong to the ground,
And Turnus, reaching forward, sword in hand,
Room 'twixt the hauberk and the helmet found
And lopped the head with his avenging brand,		433
And left the bleeding trunk to welter on the sand.

L. While Turnus thus dealt havoc as he flew,
Back with Æneas from the combat went
Ascanius, Mnestheus, and Achates true,
And helped the bleeding hero to his tent.
Faltering and pale, as on the spear he leant,
Fretting, and tugging at the shaft in vain,
Quick help he summons,—with the broadsword's rent
The wound to widen, and the lurking bane		442
Cut out, and send him back to battle on the plain.
LI. Iapis, son of Iasus, was there,
The best-beloved of Phoebus. Long ago
Apollo, fired to see a youth so fair,
His arts and gifts had offered to bestow,
His augury, his lyre, his sounding bow.
But he, in hope a bed-rid parent's days
To lengthen, sought the leech's craft to know,
The power of simples, and the silent praise		451
Of healing arts, and scorned the great Apollo's bays.