Page:Aeneid (Conington 1866).djvu/461

Where pools of bloodshed soak the ground
And the shrill gales with javelins sound;
Then signals with his upraised hand
And lifts the voice of high command:
'Rutules, forbear! your darts lay by,
'Ye Latian ranks! not you, but I
Must meet whate'er betide:
Far better this my arm alone
For broken treaty should atone,
And battle's chance decide.'
The armies right and left give place,
And yield him clear and open space.

But great Æneas, when he hears
The challenge of his foe,
The leaguer of the town forbears,
Lets tower and rampart go,
Steps high with exultation proud,
And thunders on his arms aloud;
Vast as majestic Athos, vast
As Eryx the divine,
Or he that roaring with the blast
Heaves his huge bulk in snowdrifts massed,
The father Apennine.
Italian, Trojan, Rutule, all
One way direct the eye,—
Who man the summit of the wall,
Who storm the base to work its fall,
And lay their bucklers by.
Latinus marvels at the sight,
Two mighty chiefs, who first saw light
In realms apart, met here in fight
The steel's award to try.
Soon as the space between is clear,
Each, rushing forward, hurls his spear,