Page:Aeneid (Conington 1866).djvu/421

Rh Stung by the insult, fiery-souled,

She gives her mate her horse to hold,

And stands with stainless buckler bold

And bare uplifted steel.

The youth believes his arts succeed:

Turning his rein with caitiff speed

He flies, and gores his panting steed

With iron-pointed heel.

'Ah! base Ligurian, boaster vile,

In vain you try your native guile:

Trickster and dastard though you be,

False Aunus you shall never see!'

With foot like fire, in middle course

She meets and heads the flying horse,

Confronts the rider, lays him low,

And wreaks her vengeance, foe on foe.

Look how the hawk, whom augurs love,

With matchless ease o'ertakes a dove

Seen in the clouds on high:

He gripes, he rends the prey forlorn,

While drops of blood and plumage torn

Come tumbling from the sky.

But not with unregardful gaze

The sire of heaven the scene surveys

From his Olympian tower:

He bids Tyrrhenian Tarchon wage

A deadlier fight, and stirs his rage

With all ungentle power.

From rank to rank the chieftain flies,

The yielding troops with menace plies,

Calls each by his familiar name,

And wakes again the expiring flame:

'What panic terror of the foe,

What drowsy spell has made you slow,

O hearts that will not feel?