(When with his brawny breast he cuts the waves, His shoulders scarce the topmost billow laves), Or like a mountain ash, whose roots are spread, Deep fix'd in earth; in clouds he hides his head.
The Trojan prince beheld him from afar, And dauntless undertook the doubtful war.
Collected in his strength, and like a rock, Pois'd on his base, Mezentius stood the shock.
He stood, and, measuring first with careful eyes The space his spear could reach, aloud he cries:
"My strong right hand, and sword, assist my stroke!
(Those only gods Mezentius will invoke.)
His armor, from the Trojan pirate torn, By my triumphant Lausus shall be worn."He said; and with his utmost force he threw The massy spear, which, hissing as it flew, Reach'd the celestial shield, that stopp'd the course;But, glancing thence, the yet unbroken force Took a new bent obliquely, and betwixt The side and bowels fam'd Anthores fix'd.
Anthores had from Argos travel'd far, Alcides' friend, and brother of the war;Till, tir'd with toils, fair Italy he chose, And in Evander's palace sought repose.
Now, falling by another's wound, his eyes He cast to heav'n, on Argos thinks, and dies.
The pious Trojan then his jav'lin sent;
The shield gave way; thro' treble plates it went Of solid brass, of linen trebly roll'd, And three bull hides which round the buckler fold.
All these it pass'd, resistless in the course, Transpierc'd his thigh, and spent its dying force.
The gaping wound gush'd out a crimson flood.
The Trojan, glad with sight of hostile blood, His faunchion drew, to closer fight address'd, And with new force his fainting foe oppress'd.
His father's peril Lausus view'd with grief;He sigh'd, he wept, he ran to his relief.
And here, heroic youth, 't is here I must To thy immortal memory be just, And sing an act so noble and so new, Posterity will scarce believe 't is true.
Pain'd with his wound, and useless for the fight, The father sought to save himself by flight:
Incumber'd, slow he dragg'd the spear along, Which pierc'd his thigh, and in his buckler hung.
The pious youth, resolv'd on death, below The lifted sword springs forth to face the foe;Protects his parent, and prevents the blow.
Shouts of applause ran ringing thro' the field, To see the son the vanquish'd father shield.
All, fir'd with gen'rous indignation, strive, And with a storm of darts to distance drive The Trojan chief, who, held at bay from far, On his Vulcanian orb sustain'd the war.
As, when thick hail comes rattling in the wind, The plowman, passenger, and lab'ring hind For shelter to the neighb'ring covert fly, Or hous'd, or safe in hollow caverns lie;But, that o'erblown, when heav'n above 'em smiles, Return to travel, and renew their toils:
Aeneas thus, o'erwhelmed on ev'ry side, The storm of darts, undaunted, did abide;And thus to Lausus loud with friendly threat'ning cried:
"Why wilt thou rush to certain death, and rage In rash attempts, beyond thy tender age, Betray'd by pious love?" Nor, thus forborne, The youth desists, but with insulting scorn Provokes the ling'ring prince, whose patience, tir'd, Gave place; and all his breast with fury fir'd.
For now the Fates prepar'd their sharpen'd shears;And lifted high the flaming sword appears, Which, full descending with a frightful sway, Thro' shield and corslet forc'd th' impetuous way, And buried deep in his fair bosom lay.
The purple streams thro' the thin armor strove, And drench'd th' imbroider'd coat his mother wove;And life at length forsook his heaving heart, Loth from so sweet a mansion to depart.
But when, with blood and paleness all o'erspread, The pious prince beheld young Lausus dead, He griev'd; he wept; the sight an image brought Of his own filial love, a sadly pleasing thought:
Then stretch'd his hand to hold him up, and said:
"Poor hapless youth! what praises can be paid To love so great, to such transcendent store Of early worth, and sure presage of more?
Accept whate'er Aeneas can afford;
Untouch'd thy arms, untaken be thy sword;And all that pleas'd thee living, still remain Inviolate, and sacred to the slain.
Thy body on thy parents I bestow, To rest thy soul, at least, if shadows know, Or have a sense of human things below.
There to thy fellow ghosts with glory tell:
''T was by the great Aeneas hand I fell.'"With this, his distant friends he beckons near, Provokes their duty, and prevents their fear:
Himself assists to lift him from the ground, With clotted locks, and blood that well'd from out the wound.
Meantime, his father, now no father, stood, And wash'd his wounds by Tiber's yellow flood:
Oppress'd with anguish, panting, and o'erspent, His fainting limbs against an oak he leant.
A bough his brazen helmet did sustain;
His heavier arms lay scatter'd on the plain:
A chosen train of youth around him stand;His drooping head was rested on his hand:
His grisly beard his pensive bosom sought;And all on Lausus ran his restless thought.
Careful, concern'd his danger to prevent, He much enquir'd, and many a message sent To warn him from the field- alas! in vain!
