ood supplied me
strength, and envious old age had not yet strewn her snows on either
temple. But if Dares of Troy will have none of these our arms, and good
Aeneas is resolved on it, and my patron Acestes approves, let us make
the battle even. See, I give up the gauntlets of Eryx; dismiss thy
fears; and do thou put off thy Trojan gloves.' So spoke he, and throwing
back the fold of his raiment from his shoulders, he bares the massive
joints and limbs, the great bones and muscles, and stands up huge in the
middle of the ground. Then Anchises' lordly seed brought out equal
gloves and bound the hands of both in matched arms. Straightway each
took his stand on tiptoe, and undauntedly raised his arms high in air.
They lift their heads right back and away out of reach of blows, and
make hand play through hand, inviting attack; the one nimbler of foot
and confident in his youth, the other mighty in mass of limb, but his
knees totter tremulous and slow, and sick panting shakes his vast frame.
Many a mutual blow they deliver in vain, many an one they redouble on
chest and side, sounding hollow and loud: hands play fast about ear and
temple, and jawbones clash under the hard strokes. Old Entellus stands
immoveable and astrain, only parrying hits with body and watchful eye.
The other, as one who casts mounts against some high city or blockades a
hill-fort in arms, tries this and that entrance, and ranges cunningly
over all the ground, and presses many an attack in vain. Entellus rose
and struck clean out with his right downwards; his quick opponent saw
the descending blow before it came, [445-481]and slid his body rapidly
out of its way. Entellus hurled his strength into the air, and all his
heavy mass, overreaching, fell heavily to the earth; as sometime on
Erymanthus or mighty Ida a hollow pine falls torn out by the roots.
Teucrians and men of Sicily rise eagerly; a cry goes up, and Acestes
himself runs forward, and pityingly lifts his friend and birthmate from
the ground. But the hero, not dulled nor dismayed by his mishap, returns
the keener to battle, and grows violent in wrath, while shame and
resolved valour kindle his strength. All afire, he hunts Dares headlong
over the lists, and redoubles his blows now with right hand, now with
left; no breath nor pause; heavy as hailstones rattle on the roof from a
storm-cloud, so thickly shower the blows from both his hands as he
buffets Dares to and fro. Then lord Aeneas allowed not wra