Page:Aeneid (Conington 1866).djvu/454

430 Through the bright helm the weapon passed,

And rooted in the brain stood fast.

Nor could thy prowess, Cretheus brave,

'Gainst Turnus' coming stand,

Nor those his gods Cupencus save

From out Æneas' hand:

His bosom met the impetuous blade,

Nor long the shield its fury stayed.

Thou too, great Æolus, the plains

Of Latium saw thee dead;

They saw thy giant-like remains

Wide o'er their surface spread:

Fallen, fallen art thou, whom not the bands

Of Argos could destroy,

Nor those unconquerable hands

Which wrought the doom of Troy:

'Twas here thy sepulchre was made,

Thy palace high 'neath Ida's shade:

Lyrnesus reared thy palace high,

Laurentum gave thee room to die.

So, turning, rallying, front to front,

Face the two hosts the battle's brunt:

The Latian and the Dardan throng,

Brave Mnestheus and Serestus strong,

Messapus, tamer of the horse,

Asilas with his Tuscan force,

Evander's Arcad train,

Each for himself, make desperate fight—

No stint, no stay—and all their might

With fierce contention strain.

Now Venus prompts her darling chief

To lead his forces to the town,

And with a sudden stroke and brief

On the scared foe come down.