And on the air expends his blows.
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?
’Twere 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.
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 you braggart rear his crest,
Had I but youth, no need had been
Of gifts to lure me to the green:
No, though the bull were twice as fair,
’Tis not the prize should make me dare.’
Then on the ground in open view
Two gloves of giant weight he threw,
Which Eryx once in combat plied
And braced him with the tough bull-hide.
In speechless wonder all behold:
Seven mighty hides with fold on fold
Enwrap the fist: and iron sewed
And knobs of lead augment the load.
E’en Dares starts in sheer dismay,
And shuns the desperate essay;
The gauntlets’ weight Æneas tries,
And handles their enormous size.
Then fetching speech from out his breast,
The veteran thus his mind expressed:
‘What if the gauntlets you had seen
Alcides wore that day,
Had stood on this ensanguined green
And watched the fatal fray?
These gloves your brother Eryx wore,
Still stained, you see, with brains and gore.
With these ’gainst Hercules he stood:
With these I fought, while youthful blood
Supplied me strength, nor age had shed
Its envious winter on my head.
But if the arms Sicilians wield
Deter the Trojan from the field,
If so Æneas’ thoughts incline,
And so my chief approves,
Let both be equal, side and side:
I spare you Eryx’ grim bull-hide:
Dismiss that terror, and resign
In turn your Trojan gloves.’
He said, and from his shoulders throws
The robe he wont to use,
His mighty frame’s contexture shows,
His mighty arms and thews,
And in the middle of the sand
In giant greatness takes his stand.
Two pairs of gauntlets matched in size,
Equips the combatants alike,
And sets them front to front to strike.
Raised on his toes each champion stands,
And fearless lifts in air his hands.
Their heads, thrown back, avoid the stroke;
Their mighty arms the fight provoke.
That on elastic youth relies,
This on vast limbs and giant size;
But the huge knees with age are slack,
And fitful gasps the deep chest rack.
Full many a wound the heroes rain
Each on the other, still in vain:
Their hollow sides return the sound,
Their battered chests the shock rebound:
’Mid ears and temples come and go
The wandering gauntlets to and fro:
The jarred teeth chatter ’neath the blow.
Firm stands Entellus in his place,
A column rooted on its base;
His watchful eye and shrinking frame
Alone avoid the gauntlet’s aim.
Like leaguer who invests a town
Or sits before a hill-fort down,
The younger champion tasks his art
To find the bulwark’s weakest part,
This way and that unwearied scans,
And vainly tries a thousand plans.
Entellus, rising to the blow,
Puts forth his hand: the wary foe
Midway in air the mischief spied,
And, deftly shifting, slipped aside.
Entellus’ force on air is spent:
Heavily down with prone descent
He falls, as from its roots uprent
A pine falls hollow, on the side
Of Erymanth or lofty Ide.
Loud clamouring from their seats arise:
Troy’s and Trinacria’s sons:
The shouts mount upward to the skies:
And first Acestes runs,
And tenderly from earth uprears
His ancient friend of equal years.
But not disheartened by his foil,
The champion rises from the soil:
With wrath he goads his sluggard might,
And turns him fiercer to the fight:
The smouldering mass is stirred to flame
By conscious worth and glowing shame:
Ablaze with fury he pursues
The Trojan o’er the green,
And now his right hand deals the bruise,
And now his left as keen.
No pause, no respite: fierce and fast
As hailstones rattle down the blast
On sloping roofs, with blow on blow
He buffets Dares to and fro.
But good Æneas suffered not
The strife to rage too far:
Or ere Entellus waxed more hot,
He bade him cease the war,
Delivered Dares, sore distressed,
And thus with soothing words addressed:
‘Alas! what frenzy of the mind
Has made you, hapless friend, so blind?
Perceive you not the powers have changed,
And left the side where once they ranged?
Give way to Heaven.’ Such speech he made,
And as he spoke the combat stayed.
But Dares by a friendly throng
All helplessly is dragged along,
Trailing his knees his weight beneath,
Swaying his head from side to side,
While clotted gore and loosened teeth
Pour from his mouth in mingled tide.
They bear him to the ships away,
Then at a call receive
The helm and sword: the bull and
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