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 broken billows roar, but ocean without let glides gently up the shore as the tide advances, suddenly turns his prows thither, and exhorts his crew: "Now, ye chosen band, ply your stout oars, lift the vessels and carry them home: cleave with your beaks this land that hates you;               5 let the keel plough its own furrow. Even from shipwreck in a roadstead like this I would not shrink, could I once get hold of the soil." Tarchon having thus said, his crew rise on their oars and bear down on the Latian plains with vessels all foam, till the beaks have gained the dry land,           10 and every keel has come scatheless to its rest. Not so thy ship, Tarchon: for while dashed on a sandbank it totters on the unequal ridge, poised in suspense awhile, and buffeting the waves, its sides give way, and its men are set down in the midst of the water: broken oars and              15 floating benches entangle them, and their feet are carried back by the ebb of the wave.

No sluggish delay holds Turnus from his work: with fiery speed he sweeps his whole army against the Teucrians, and plants them in the foe's face on the shore. The                  20 clarions sound: first dashed Æneas on the rustic ranks, a presage of the fight's fortune, and disarrayed the Latians, slaying Theron, who in his giant strength is assailing Æneas: piercing through quilted brass and tunic stiff with gold the sword devours his unguarded side. Next                 25 he strikes Lycus, who was cut from the womb of his dead mother and consecrated to thee, Apollo, because his baby life had been suffered to scape the peril of the steel. Hard by, as iron Cisseus and gigantic Gyas were laying low his host with their clubs, he casts them down in                 30 death: nought availed them; the weapons of Hercules or strong hands to wield them, or Melampus their sire, Alicides' constant follower, long as earth found for him those grievous tasks. See there, as Pharus is hurling forth words without deeds, he flings at him his javelin              35 and plants it in the bawler's mouth. Thou, too, Cydon, while following with ill-starred quest the blooming Clytius, thy latest joy, hadst lain stretched on the ground by the