The Aeneid Part 15

"If such rewards to vanquish'd men are due."

He said, "and falling is to rise by you, What prize may Nisus from your bounty claim, Who merited the first rewards and fame?

In falling, both an equal fortune tried; Would fortune for my fall so well provide!"

With this he pointed to his face, and show'd His hand and all his habit smear'd with blood.

Th' indulgent father of the people smil'd, And caus'd to be produc'd an ample shield, Of wondrous art, by Didymaon wrought, Long since from Neptune's bars in triumph brought.

This giv'n to Nisus, he divides the rest, And equal justice in his gifts express'd.

The race thus ended, and rewards bestow'd, Once more the prince bespeaks th' attentive crowd: "If there he here whose dauntless courage dare In gauntlet-fight, with limbs and body bare, His opposite sustain in open view, Stand forth the champion, and the games renew.

Two prizes I propose, and thus divide: A bull with gilded horns, and fillets tied, Shall be the portion of the conqu'ring chief; A sword and helm shall cheer the loser's grief."

Then haughty Dares in the lists appears; Stalking he strides, his head erected bears: His nervous arms the weighty gauntlet wield, And loud applauses echo thro' the field.

Dares alone in combat us'd to stand The match of mighty Paris, hand to hand; The same, at Hector's fun'rals, undertook Gigantic Butes, of th' Amycian stock, And, by the stroke of his resistless hand, Stretch'd the vast bulk upon the yellow sand.

Such Dares was; and such he strode along, And drew the wonder of the gazing throng.

His brawny back and ample breast he shows, His lifted arms around his head he throws, And deals in whistling air his empty blows.

His match is sought; but, thro' the trembling band, Not one dares answer to the proud demand.

Presuming of his force, with sparkling eyes Already he devours the promis'd prize.

He claims the bull with awless insolence, And having seiz'd his horns, accosts the prince: "If none my matchless valor dares oppose, How long shall Dares wait his dastard foes?

Permit me, chief, permit without delay, To lead this uncontended gift away."

The crowd a.s.sents, and with redoubled cries For the proud challenger demands the prize.

Acestes, fir'd with just disdain, to see The palm usurp'd without a victory, Reproach'd Entellus thus, who sate beside, And heard and saw, unmov'd, the Trojan's pride: "Once, but in vain, a champion of renown, So tamely can you bear the ravish'd crown, A prize in triumph borne before your sight, And shun, for fear, the danger of the fight?

Where is our Eryx now, the boasted name, The G.o.d who taught your thund'ring arm the game?

Where now your baffled honor? Where the spoil That fill'd your house, and fame that fill'd our isle?"

Entellus, thus: "My soul is still the same, Unmov'd with fear, and mov'd with martial fame; But my chill blood is curdled in my veins, And scarce the shadow of a man remains.

O could I turn to that fair prime again, That prime of which this boaster is so vain, The brave, who this decrepid age defies, Should feel my force, without the promis'd prize."

He said; and, rising at the word, he threw Two pond'rous gauntlets down in open view; Gauntlets which Eryx wont in fight to wield, And sheathe his hands with in the listed field.

With fear and wonder seiz'd, the crowd beholds The gloves of death, with sev'n distinguish'd folds Of tough bull hides; the s.p.a.ce within is spread With iron, or with loads of heavy lead: Dares himself was daunted at the sight, Renounc'd his challenge, and refus'd to fight.

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 G.o.ds," 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 sh.o.r.e 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 G.o.ddess-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 n.o.bler 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 sh.o.r.e.

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 Hippoc.o.o.n.

The people shout. Upon the next was found Young Mnestheus, late with naval honors crown'd.

The third contain'd Eurytion's n.o.ble 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.

Hippoc.o.o.n'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.

The captive thus releas'd, away she flies, And beats with clapping wings the yielding skies.

His bow already bent, Eurytion stood; And, having first invok'd his brother G.o.d, His winged shaft with eager haste he sped.

The fatal message reach'd her as she fled: She leaves her life aloft; she strikes the ground, And renders back the weapon in the wound.

Acestes, grudging at his lot, remains, Without a prize to gratify his pains.

Yet, shooting upward, sends his shaft, to show An archer's art, and boast his tw.a.n.ging bow.

The feather'd arrow gave a dire portent, And latter augurs judge from this event.

Chaf'd by the speed, it fir'd; and, as it flew, A trail of following flames ascending drew: Kindling they mount, and mark the shiny way; Across the skies as falling meteors play, And vanish into wind, or in a blaze decay.

The Trojans and Sicilians wildly stare, And, trembling, turn their wonder into pray'r.

The Dardan prince put on a smiling face, And strain'd Acestes with a close embrace; Then, hon'ring him with gifts above the rest, Turn'd the bad omen, nor his fears confess'd.

"The G.o.ds," said he, "this miracle have wrought, And order'd you the prize without the lot.

Accept this goblet, rough with figur'd gold, Which Thracian Cisseus gave my sire of old: This pledge of ancient amity receive, Which to my second sire I justly give."

He said, and, with the trumpets' cheerful sound, Proclaim'd him victor, and with laurel-crown'd.

Nor good Eurytion envied him the prize, Tho' he transfix'd the pigeon in the skies.

Who cut the line, with second gifts was grac'd; The third was his whose arrow pierc'd the mast.

The chief, before the games were wholly done, Call'd Periphantes, tutor to his son, And whisper'd thus: "With speed Ascanius find; And, if his childish troop be ready join'd, On horseback let him grace his grandsire's day, And lead his equals arm'd in just array."

He said; and, calling out, the cirque he clears.

The crowd withdrawn, an open plain appears.

And now the n.o.ble youths, of form divine, Advance before their fathers, in a line; The riders grace the steeds; the steeds with glory shine.

Thus marching on in military pride, Shouts of applause resound from side to side.

Their casques adorn'd with laurel wreaths they wear, Each brandishing aloft a cornel spear.

Some at their backs their gilded quivers bore; Their chains of burnish'd gold hung down before.