Astonish'd at their weight, the hero stands, And pois'd the pond'rous engines in his hands.
"What had your wonder," said Entellus, "been, Had you the gauntlets of Alcides seen, Or view'd the stern debate on this unhappy green!
These which I bear your brother Eryx bore, Still mark'd with batter'd brains and mingled gore.
With these he long sustain'd th' Herculean arm;And these I wielded while my blood was warm, This languish'd frame while better spirits fed, Ere age unstrung my nerves, or time o'ersnow'd my head.
But if the challenger these arms refuse, And cannot wield their weight, or dare not use;If great Aeneas and Acestes join In his request, these gauntlets I resign;Let us with equal arms perform the fight, And let him leave to fear, since I resign my right."This said, Entellus for the strife prepares;Stripp'd of his quilted coat, his body bares;Compos'd of mighty bones and brawn he stands, A goodly tow'ring object on the sands.
Then just Aeneas equal arms supplied, Which round their shoulders to their wrists they tied.
Both on the tiptoe stand, at full extent, Their arms aloft, their bodies inly bent;Their heads from aiming blows they bear afar;With clashing gauntlets then provoke the war.
One on his youth and pliant limbs relies;One on his sinews and his giant size.
The last is stiff with age, his motion slow;He heaves for breath, he staggers to and fro, And clouds of issuing smoke his nostrils loudly blow.
Yet equal in success, they ward, they strike;Their ways are diff'rent, but their art alike.
Before, behind, the blows are dealt; around Their hollow sides the rattling thumps resound.
A storm of strokes, well meant, with fury flies, And errs about their temples, ears, and eyes.
Nor always errs; for oft the gauntlet draws A sweeping stroke along the crackling jaws.
Heavy with age, Entellus stands his ground, But with his warping body wards the wound.
His hand and watchful eye keep even pace;While Dares traverses and shifts his place, And, like a captain who beleaguers round Some strong-built castle on a rising ground, Views all th' approaches with observing eyes:
This and that other part in vain he tries, And more on industry than force relies.
With hands on high, Entellus threats the foe;But Dares watch'd the motion from below, And slipp'd aside, and shunn'd the long descending blow.
Entellus wastes his forces on the wind, And, thus deluded of the stroke design'd, Headlong and heavy fell; his ample breast And weighty limbs his ancient mother press'd.
So falls a hollow pine, that long had stood On Ida's height, or Erymanthus' wood, Torn from the roots.The diff'ring nations rise, And shouts and mingled murmurs rend the skies, Acestus runs with eager haste, to raise The fall'n companion of his youthful days.
Dauntless he rose, and to the fight return'd;With shame his glowing cheeks, his eyes with fury burn'd.
Disdain and conscious virtue fir'd his breast, And with redoubled force his foe he press'd.
He lays on load with either hand, amain, And headlong drives the Trojan o'er the plain;Nor stops, nor stays; nor rest nor breath allows;But storms of strokes descend about his brows, A rattling tempest, and a hail of blows.
But now the prince, who saw the wild increase Of wounds, commands the combatants to cease, And bounds Entellus' wrath, and bids the peace.
First to the Trojan, spent with toil, he came, And sooth'd his sorrow for the suffer'd shame.
"What fury seiz'd my friend? The gods," said he, "To him propitious, and averse to thee, Have giv'n his arm superior force to thine.
'T is madness to contend with strength divine."The gauntlet fight thus ended, from the shore His faithful friends unhappy Dares bore:
His mouth and nostrils pour'd a purple flood, And pounded teeth came rushing with his blood.
Faintly he stagger'd thro' the hissing throng, And hung his head, and trail'd his legs along.
The sword and casque are carried by his train;But with his foe the palm and ox remain.
The champion, then, before Aeneas came, Proud of his prize, but prouder of his fame:
"O goddess-born, and you, Dardanian host, Mark with attention, and forgive my boast;Learn what I was, by what remains; and know From what impending fate you sav'd my foe."Sternly he spoke, and then confronts the bull;And, on his ample forehead aiming full, The deadly stroke, descending, pierc'd the skull.
Down drops the beast, nor needs a second wound, But sprawls in pangs of death, and spurns the ground.
Then, thus: "In Dares' stead I offer this.
Eryx, accept a nobler sacrifice;
Take the last gift my wither'd arms can yield:
Thy gauntlets I resign, and here renounce the field."This done, Aeneas orders, for the close, The strife of archers with contending bows.
The mast Sergesthus' shatter'd galley bore With his own hands he raises on the shore.
A flutt'ring dove upon the top they tie, The living mark at which their arrows fly.
The rival archers in a line advance, Their turn of shooting to receive from chance.
A helmet holds their names; the lots are drawn:
On the first scroll was read Hippocoon.
The people shout.Upon the next was found Young Mnestheus, late with naval honors crown'd.
The third contain'd Eurytion's noble name, Thy brother, Pandarus, and next in fame, Whom Pallas urg'd the treaty to confound, And send among the Greeks a feather'd wound.
Acestes in the bottom last remain'd, Whom not his age from youthful sports restrain'd.
Soon all with vigor bend their trusty bows, And from the quiver each his arrow chose.
Hippocoon's was the first: with forceful sway It flew, and, whizzing, cut the liquid way.
Fix'd in the mast the feather'd weapon stands:
The fearful pigeon flutters in her bands, And the tree trembled, and the shouting cries Of the pleas'd people rend the vaulted skies.
Then Mnestheus to the head his arrow drove, With lifted eyes, and took his aim above, But made a glancing shot, and missed the dove;Yet miss'd so narrow, that he cut the cord Which fasten'd by the foot the flitting bird.
