Page:Aeneid (Conington 1866).djvu/173

His match is sought, but sought in vain:
Not one of all that mighty train
Has nerve the champion to defy
And round his hands the gauntlets tie.
So, filled with overweening might,
And thinking all declined the fight,
Before the chief he takes his stand,
Lays on the bullock's horn his hand,
And thus in triumph cries:
'Why, goddess-born, this vain delay?
If none dare venture on the fray,
How long shall justice be deferred?
'T were decent now to give the word
And bid me take the prize.'
With shouts the Trojan host agreed
And claimed their champion's promised meed.

Now with rebuke Acestes plies
Entellus, who beside him lies
Upon the grassy sward:
'Entellus, whom erewhile we thought
Our bravest hero, all for nought,
And will you then the strife forego,
And see borne off without a blow
The champion's proud reward?
Where now the pupil's loyal pride
In mighty Eryx deified,
The fame that spread Trinacria o'er,
The trophies hanging from your door?'
'Nay,' cries the chief, 'no coward dread
Has made ambition hide her head:
But strength is slack in limbs grown old,
And aged blood runs dull and cold.
Had I the thing I once possessed,
Which makes yon braggart rear his crest,