Book 9
had burst in midmost of the line, and now
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stood prisoned in their wall, as if he were
some monstrous tiger among helpless kine.
His eyeballs strangely glared; his armor rang
terrific, his tall crest shook o'er his brows
blood-red, and lightnings glittered from his shield
familiar loomed that countenance abhorred
and frame gigantic on the shrinking eyes
of the Aeneadae. Then Pandarus
sprang towering forth, all fever to revenge
his brother's slaughter. “Not this way,” he cried
“Amata's marriage-gift! No Ardea here
mews Turnus in his fathers' halls. Behold
thy foeman's castle! Thou art not allowed
to take thy leave.” But Turnus looked his way,
and smiled with heart unmoved. “Begin! if thou
hast manhood in thee, and meet steel with steel!
Go tell dead Priam thou discoverest here
Achilles!” For reply, the champion tall
hurled with his might and main along the air
his spear of knotted wood and bark untrimmed.
But all it wounded was the passing wind,
for Saturn's daughter turned its course awry,
and deep in the great gate the spear-point drove.
“Now from the stroke this right arm means for thee
thou shalt not fly. Not such the sender of
this weapon and this wound.” He said, and towered
aloft to his full height; the lifted sword
clove temples, brows, and beardless cheeks clean through
with loudly ringing blow; the ground beneath
shook with the giant's ponderous fall, and, lo,
with nerveless limbs, and brains spilt o'er his shield,
dead on the earth he lay! in equal halves
the sundered head from either shoulder swung.
In horror and amaze the Trojans all
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dispersed and fled; had but the conqueror thought
to break the barriers of the gates and call
his followers through, that fatal day had seen
an ending of the Teucrians and their war.
But frenzied joy of slaughter urged him on,
