Page:Aeneid (Conington 1866).djvu/372

Then seized him by the helm, and smote
With deep-plunged blade his back-drawn throat.
Not far Hæmomdes the good,
Apollo's priest and Dian's, stood,
His brow with sacred fillet wreathed,
His limbs in dazzling armour sheathed:
He meets him, chases, lays him low,
Stands o'er the immolated foe,
And shadows him like night:
Serestus on his shoulders proud
Bears the bright arms, a trophy vowed
To thee, stern lord of fight.

Now Cæculus, of Vulcan's seed,
And Umbro, nursed in Marsian airs,
Bid the spent war afresh to bleed:
The Dardan chief against them fares.
Stout Anxur's hand and all his shield
His sword has tumbled on the field:
Poor wretch! he deemed that muttered charm
Had power destruction to disarm,
And, proudly swelling to the spheres,
Dreamed of hoar locks, and length of years.
E'en as the hero wreaked his wrath
Came Tarquitus athwart his path,
Whom Dryope to Faunus bore:
Refulgent armour cased him o'er.
The Dardan spear, with force addressed,
Drives shield and corslet on his breast;
Then while in vain he pours his prayers
And many a plea for life prepares,
His shapely neck the falchion shares:
Down falls the body, reft of head,
And thus Æneas taunts the dead: