rrow for the dead,
The parent's anguish, and the warrior's zest,
Thrilled through his veins, and kindled in his breast,
And thrice he called AEneas. With delight
AEneas heard him, and his vows addressed:
"So help me Jove, so Phoebus lend his might,
Come on," and couched his spear, advancing to the fight.

CXVIII. "Wretch," cries Mezentius, "having robbed my son,
Why scare me now? Thy terrors I defy.
Only through Lausus were his sire undone.
I heed not death nor deities, not I;
Forbear thy taunting; I am here to die,
But send this gift to greet thee, ere I go."
He spake, and quickly let a javelin fly,
Another--and another, as round the foe
In widening orbs he wheels; the good shield bides the blow.

CXIX. Thrice round AEneas leftward he careers,
Raining his darts. Thrice, shifting round, each way
The Trojan bears the forest of his spears.
At length, impatient of the long delay,
And tired with plucking all the shafts away,
Pondering awhile, and by the ceaseless blows
Hard pressed, and chafing at the unequal fray,
Forth springs AEneas, and betwixt the brows
Full at the warrior-steed a fatal javelin throws.

CXX. Up rears the steed, and paws the air in pain,
Then, following on his falling rider, lies
And pins him with his shoulder to the plain.
Shouts from each host run kindling through the skies.
Forth springs AEneas, glorying in his prize,
And plucks the glittering falchion from his thigh,
"Where now is fierce Mezentius? where," he cries,
"That fiery spirit?" Then, with upturned eye,
Gasping, with gathered sense, the Tuscan made reply:

CXXI. "Stern foe! why taunt and threaten? 'twere no shame
To slay me. No such covenant to save
His sire made Lausus; nor for this I came.
One boon I ask--if vanquished men may crave
The victor's grace--a burial for the brave.
My people hate me; I have lived abhorred;
Shield me from them with Lausus in the grave."
This said, his throat he offered to the sword,
And o'er his shining arms life's purple stream was poured.

BOOK ELEVEN

ARGUMENT

AEneas erects a trophy of Mezentius' arms, and sends the body of
Pallas with tears and lamentations to Evander (1-108). A truce for
the burial of the dead is asked by the Latins, and sympathy with the
Trojan cause finds a spokesman in Drances (109-144). The sorrow of
Evander and the funeral rites