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The Trojans fly with loosened reins,
And pour promiscuous o'er the plains:
Thus ocean, swaying to and fro,
Now seeks the shore with onward flow,
Rains on the cliff the sprinkled surge,
And breaking bathes the sand's last verge,
Now draws the rocky fragments back
And quits the sea-board, faint and slack.
Twice to their walls the Tuscans beat
The routed Rutule foe,
Twice, looking back in swift retreat,
Their shields behind them throw.
But when a third time hand to hand
The hosts in deadly mêlée stand
And man with man they close.
Then deathful groans invade the sky;
Arms, men, and horses soon to die
Blent in promiscuous carnage lie;
Like fire the combat glows.
Orsilochus, afraid to front
Bold Remulus in battle's brunt,
Full at his charger flings a spear,
And leaves it lodged beneath the ear.
The generous beast, distraught with pain,
His forefeet lifts and rears amain;
The rider tumbles to the plain.
Iolas by Catillus dies,
Herminius too, of giant size,
Nor less in spirit bold:
Bare was his head; his shoulders bare
Sustain a yellow length of hair;
No wounds the doughty warrior scare,
So vast his martial mould:
Through his broad chest the spear is driven;
He writhes, by deadly anguish riven.