Page:Aeneid (Conington 1866).djvu/175

He said, and from his shoulders throws
The robe he wont to use,
His mighty frame's contexture shows,
His mighty arms and thews,
And in the middle of the sand
In giant greatness takes his stand.

Then good Anchises' son supplies
Two pairs of gauntlets matched in size,
Equips the combatants alike,
And sets them front to front to strike.
Raised on his toes each champion stands,
And fearless lifts in air his hands.
Their heads, thrown back, avoid the stroke;
Their mighty arms the fight provoke.
That on elastic youth relies,
This on vast limbs and giant size;
But the huge knees with age are slack,
And fitful gasps the deep chest rack.
Full many a wound the heroes rain
Each on the other, still in vain:
Their hollow sides return the sound,
Their battered chests the shock rebound:
'Mid ears and temples come and go
The wandering gauntlets to and fro:
The jarred teeth chatter 'neath the blow.
Firm stands Entellus in his place,
A column rooted on its base;
His watchful eye and shrinking frame
Alone avoid the gauntlet's aim.
Like leaguer who invests a town
Or sits before a hill-fort down,
The younger champion tasks his art
To find the bulwark's weakest part,