Page:Aeneid (Conington 1866).djvu/451

In voice, in form, in dress complete,
The hapless driver's counterfeit.
As swallow through some mansion flies
With courts and stately galleries,
Flaps noisy wing, gives clamorous tongue,
Still catering for her callow young,
Makes cloisters echo to the sound,
And tank and cistern circles round,
So whirls the dame her glowing car,
So flashes through the maze of war:
Now here, now there, in conquering pride
Her brother she displays,
Yet lets him not the encounter bide,
But winds through devious ways.
Nor less Æneas shifts and wheels,
Pursues and tracks him out,
And clamouring to his faith appeals
Across the weltering rout:
Oft as he marks the foe, and tries
To match the chariot as it flies,
So oft her scourge Juturna plies,
And turns her steeds about.
What should he do? he undulates
With aimless ebb and flow:
His bosom's passionate debates
Distract him to and fro.
Messapus then, who chanced to wield
Two quivering javelins, barbed and steeled,
Takes one, and levels with his eye,
And bids it at Æneas fly.
The Trojan halts, and making pause,
His arms around him closer draws,
On bended knee firm stayed:
The javelin struck the helmet's cone,
And razed the plume that, tossed and blown,
High on its summit played.