Book 10
surpassed the richest of Ausonia's lords,
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when over hushed Amyclae he was king.
Like old Aegaeon of the hundred arms,
the hundred-handed, from whose mouths and breasts
blazed fifty fiery blasts, as he made war
with fifty sounding shields and fifty swords
against Jove's thunder;—so Aeneas raged
victorious o'er the field, when once his steel
warmed to its work. But lo, he turns him now
where come Niphaeus' bold-advancing wheels
and coursers four, who, when at furious speed
they faced his giant stride and dreadful cry,
upreared in panic, and reversing spilled
their captain to the ground, and bore away
the chariot to the river's distant shore.
Meanwhile, with two white coursers to their car,
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the brothers Lucagus and Liger drove
into the heart of battle: Liger kept
with skilful hand the manage of the steeds;
bold Lucagus swung wide his naked sword.
Aeneas, by their wrathful brows defied,
brooked not the sight, but to the onset flew,
huge-looming, with adverse and threatening spear.
Cried Liger, “Not Achilles' chariot, ours!
Nor team of Diomed on Phrygia's plain!
The last of life and strife shall be thy meed
upon this very ground.” Such raving word
flowed loud from Liger's lip: not with a word
the Trojan hero answered him, but flung
his whirling spear; and even as Lucagus
leaned o'er the horses, goading them with steel,
and, left foot forward, gathered all his strength
to strike—the spear crashed through the under rim
of his resplendent shield and entered deep
in the left groin; then from the chariot fallen,
the youth rolled dying on the field, while thus
pious Aeneas paid him taunting words:
“O Lucagus, thy chariot did not yield
because of horses slow to fly, or scared
by shadows of a foe. It was thyself
