Page:The Aeneid of Virgil JOHN CONINGTON 1917 V2.pdf/150

 exulting in his prize, the bull: "Goddess-born," cries he, "and you, Teucrians, take measure at once of the strength which dwelt in my frame, while that frame was young, and the death from whose door you have called back, and are still keeping, your Dares." So saying, he took his       5 stand full before the face of the bullock, which was there as the prize of the fray, and with arm drawn back, swung the iron gauntlet right between the horns, rising to his full height, crashed it down on the bone, and shattered the brain. Prostrated, breathless, and quivering, on earth lies     10 the bull. He from his bosom's depth speaks thus over the dead:—"This life, Eryx, I render to thee—a better substitute for Dares' death; here, as a conqueror may, I resign the gauntlets and the game."

Next Æneas invites those who may care to vie in shooting        15 the fleet arrow, and sets forth the prizes. With his own giant hand he rears upright the mast from Serestus' ship, and from its lofty summit ties a fluttering dove with a cord passed round the mast—a mark for aiming the steel. The archers are met; the lot has been thrown             20 and received by the brazen helmet. See! first, among the shouts of his friends, comes out before all the place of Hyrtacus' son, Hippocoon, who is followed by Mnestheus, late conqueror in the ship-race—Mnestheus, crowned with the green olive-wreath. Third comes Eurytion, thy          25 brother, thrice glorious Pandarus, who in elder days, bidden to destroy the truce, wast the first to wing thy weapon into the Achæan ranks. Last is Acestes, sank at the bottom of the helm, the old man's spirit nerving his arm to essay the task of the young. And now, with stern         30 strength, they bend and arch their bows, each hero his own, and draw forth the shaft from the quiver. First through heaven from the twanging string the arrow of Hyrtacus' youthful son pierces sharp and shrill the flying air: it hits—it is lodged full in the mast-tree. After         35 him stood keen Mnestheus, his bowstring drawn to his breast, his bow pointing upwards, eye and shaft levelled at once. But the bird itself, hapless man! his arrow had