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358 Now, shaking his tremendous lance,

Mezentius makes renewed advance:

Huge as Orion's frame appears,

What time on foot he strides

Through Nereus' watery realm, and rears

His shoulder o'er the tides,

Or when, with ashen trunk in hand

Uptorn from mountain high,

He plants his footstep on the land,

His forehead in the sky:

So towering high in steel array

Mezentius marches to the fray.

Æneas marks him far away

And hastes his mighty foe to meet:

Firm stands the foe without dismay,

Like mountain rooted to its seat:

Then nicely measures with his eye

The distance due for lance to fly.

'Now hear my prayer, my spear steel-tipped,

And thou, my good right hand:

A votive trophy, all equipped

With spoils from yon false pirate stripped,

To-day shall Lausus stand:'

He spoke, and forth his javelin threw:

From the broad shield apart it flew,

And piercing deep 'twixt side and flank

In brave Antores' frame it sank,

Antores, follower in the train

Of Hercules o'er land and main,

Who, sped from Argos, sat him down

Co-partner in Evander's town:

Now, prostrate by an unmeant wound,

In death he welters on the ground,

And gazing on Italian skies

Of his loved Argos dreams, and dies.