Part 16 (1/2)
Young Xanthus next, and Thoon felt his rage; The joy and hope of Phaenops' feeble age: Vast was his wealth, and these the only heirs Of all his labours and a life of cares
Cold death o'ertakes the tears: To strangers now descends his heapy store, The race forgotten, and the name noin arms, and combat side by side
As when the lordly lion seeks his food Where grazing heifers range the lonely wood, He leaps a necks, and tears theround: So from their seats the brother chiefs are torn, Their steeds and chariot to the navy borne
With deep concern divine aeneas view'd The foe prevailing, and his friends pursued; Through the thick stor Pandarus with careful eyes
At length he found Lycaon's un:
”Where, Pandarus, are all thy honours now, Thy winged arrows and unerring bow, Thy lory of the Lycian name?
O pierce that mortal! if we mortal call That wondrous force by which whole armies fall; Or God incensed, who quits the distant skies To punish Troy for slighted sacrifice; (Which, oh avert from our unhappy state!
For what so dreadful as celestial hate)?
Whoe'er he be, propitiate Jove with prayer; If man, destroy; if God, entreat to spare”
To hie, is Diomed the bold: Such coursers whirl him o'er the dusty field, So towers his helmet, and so flames his shi+eld
If 'tis a God, he wears that chief's disguise: Or if that chief, souardian of the skies, Involved in clouds, protects him in the fray, And turns unseen the frustrate dart away
I wing'd an arrohich not idly fell, The stroke had fix'd hiry God withstands, His fate was due to these unerring hands
Skill'd in the bow, on foot I sought the war, Nor join'd swift horses to the rapid car
Ten polish'd chariots I possess'd at horace Lycaon's princely dome: There veil'd in spacious coverlets they stand; And twice ten coursers wait their lord's coood old warrior bade me trust to these, When first for Troy I sail'd the sacred seas; In fields, aloft, the whirling car to guide, And through the ranks of death triumphant ride
But vain with youth, and yet to thrift inclined, I heard his counsels with unheedful ht fail of forage in the straiten'd town; So took my bow and pointed darts in hand And left the chariots in my native land
”Too late, O friend! my rashness I deplore; These shafts, once fatal, carry death no more
Tydeus' and Atreus' sons their points have found, And undisseore pursued the wound
In vain they bleed: this unavailing bow Serves, not to slaughter, but provoke the foe
In evil hour these bended horns I strung, And seized the quiver where it idly hung
Cursed be the fate that sent me to the field Without a warrior's arms, the spear and shi+eld!
If e'er with life I quit the Trojan plain, If e'er I see lorious ai flames”
To whom the leader of the Dardan race: ”Be calrace
The distant dart be praised, though here we need The rushi+ng chariot and the bounding steed
Against yon hero let us bend our course, And, hand to hand, encounter force with force
Now ht Observe ht; Practised alike to turn, to stop, to chase, To dare the shock, or urge the rapid race; Secure with these, through fighting fields we go; Or safe to Troy, if Jove assist the foe
Haste, seize the whip, and snatch the guiding rein; The warrior's fury let this arm sustain; Or, if to combat thy bold heart incline, Take thou the spear, the chariot's care be mine”
”O prince! (Lycaon's valiant son replied) As thine the steeds, be thine the task to guide
The horses, practised to their lord's command, Shall bear the rein, and answer to thy hand; But, if, unhappy, we desert the fight, Thy voice alone can aniht; Else shall our fates be number'd with the dead, And these, the victor's prize, in triuuidance, then: with spear and shi+eld Myself will charge this terror of the field”
And now both heroescoursers rush amidst the war; Their fierce approach bold Sthenelus espied, Who thus, alarreat Tydides cried:
”O friend! two chiefs of force ie on thee: Lo the brave heir of old Lycaon's line, And great aeneas, sprung froiven to fame Ascend thy car!
And save a life, the bulwark of our war”
At this the hero cast a gloomy look, Fix'd on the chief with scorn; and thus he spoke:
”Me dost thou bid to shun the colorious flight?