Aeneid

Virgil

Vergil. The Aeneid of Virgil. Williams, Theodore, C, translator. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1910.

They heard, and took their places. The loud horn
gave signal, and impetuous from the line,
swift as a bursting storm they sped away,
eyes fixed upon the goal. Far in advance
Nisus shot forward, swifter than the winds
or winged thunderbolt; the next in course,
next, but out-rivalled far, was Salius,
and after him a space, Euryalus
came third; him Helymus was hard upon;
and, look! Diores follows, heel on heel,
close at his shoulder—if the race be long
he sure must win, or claim a doubtful prize.
Now at the last stretch, spent and panting, all
pressed to the goal, when in a slime of blood
Nisus, hard fate! slipped down, where late the death
of victims slain had drenched the turf below.
Here the young victor, with his triumph flushed,
lost foothold on the yielding ground, and plunged
face forward in the pool of filth and gore;
but not of dear Euryalus was he
forgetful then, nor heedless of his friend;
but rising from the mire he hurled himself
in Salius' way; so he in equal plight
rolled in the filthy slough. Euryalus
leaped forth, the winner of the race by gift
of his true friend, and flying to the goal
stood first, by many a favoring shout acclaimed.
Next Helymus ran in; and, for the third, last prize,
Diores. But the multitude now heard
the hollowed hill-side ringing with wild wrath
from Salius, clamoring where the chieftains sate
for restitution of his stolen prize,
lost by a cheat. But general favor smiles
upon Euryalus, whose beauteous tears
commend him much, and nobler seems the worth
of valor clothed in youthful shape so fair.
Diores, too, assists the victor's claim,
with loud appeal—he too has won a prize,
and vainly holds his last place, if the first
to Salius fall. Aeneas then replied:
“Your gifts, my gallant youths, remain secure.
None can re-judge the prize. But to console
the misadventure of a blameless friend,
is in my power.” Therewith to Salius
an Afric lion's monstrous pelt he gave,
with ponderous mane, the claws o'erlaid with gold.
But Nisus cried: “If such a gift be found
for less than victory, and men who fall
are worthy so much sorrow, pray, what prize
shall Nisus have? For surely I had won
the proudest of the garlands, if one stroke
of inauspicious fortune had not fallen
on Salius and me.” So saying, he showed
his smeared face and his sorry limbs befouled
with mire and slime. Then laughed the gracious sire,
and bade a shield be brought, the cunning work
of Didymaon, which the Greeks tore down
from Neptune's temple; with this noble gift
he sent the high-born youth upon his way.

The foot-race over and the gifts disbursed,
“Come forth!” he cries, “if any in his heart
have strength and valor, let him now pull on
the gauntlets and uplift his thong-bound arms
in challenge.” For the reward of this fight
a two-fold gift he showed: the victor's meed,
a bullock decked and gilded; but a sword
and glittering helmet to console the fallen.
Straightway, in all his pride of giant strength,
Dares Ioomed up, and wondering murmurs ran
along the gazing crowd; for he alone
was wont to match with Paris, he it was
met Butes, the huge-bodied champion
boasting the name and race of Amycus,
Bythinian-born; him felled he at a blow,
and stretched him dying on the tawny sand.
Such Dares was, who now held high his head,
fierce for the fray, bared both his shoulders broad,
lunged out with left and right, and beat the air.
Who shall his rival be? Of all the throng
not one puts on the gauntlets, or would face
the hero's challenge. Therefore, striding forth,
believing none now dare but yield the palm,
he stood before Aeneas, and straightway
seized with his left hand the bull's golden horn,
and cried, “O goddess-born, if no man dares
to risk him in this fight, how Iong delay?
how Iong beseems it I should stand and wait?
Bid me bear off my prize.” The Trojans all
murmured assent, and bade the due award
of promised gift. But with a brow severe
Acestes to Entellus at his side
addressed upbraiding words, where they reclined
on grassy bank and couch of pleasant green:
“O my Entellus, in the olden days
bravest among the mighty, but in vain!
Endurest thou to see yon reward won
without a blow? Where, prithee, is that god
who taught thee? Are thy tales of Eryx vain?
Does all Sicilia praise thee? Is thy roof
with trophies hung?” The other in reply:
“My jealous honor and good name yield not
to fear. But age, so cold and slow to move,
makes my blood laggard, and my ebbing powers
in all my body are but slack and chill.
O, if I had what yonder ruffian boasts—
my own proud youth once more! I would not ask
the fair bull for a prize, nor to the lists
in search of gifts come forth.” So saying, he threw
into the mid-arena a vast pair
of ponderous gauntlets, which in former days
fierce Eryx for his fights was wont to bind
on hand and arm, with the stiff raw-hide thong.
All marvelled; for a weight of seven bulls' hides
was pieced with lead and iron. Dares stared
astonished, and step after step recoiled;
high-souled Anchises' son, this way and that,
turned o'er the enormous coil of knots and thongs;
then with a deep-drawn breath the veteran spoke:
“O, that thy wondering eyes had seen the arms
of Hercules, and what his gauntlets were!
Would thou hadst seen the conflict terrible
upon this self-same shore! These arms were borne
by Eryx. Look; thy brother's!—spattered yet
with blood, with dashed-out brains! In these he stood
when he matched Hercules. I wore them oft
when in my pride and prime, ere envious age
shed frost upon my brows. But if these arms
be of our Trojan Dares disapproved,
if good Aeneas rules it so, and King
Acestes wills it, let us offer fight
on even terms. Let Eryx' bull's-hide go.
Tremble no more! But strip those gauntlets off —
fetched here from Troy.” So saying, he dropped down
the double-folded mantle from his shoulders,
stripped bare the huge joints, the huge arms and thews,
and towered gigantic in the midmost ring.
Anchises' son then gave two equal pairs
of gauntlets, and accoutred with like arms
both champions. Each lifted him full height
on tiptoe; each with mien unterrified
held both fists high in air, and drew his head
far back from blows assailing. Then they joined
in struggle hand to hand, and made the fray
each moment fiercer. One was light of foot
and on his youth relied; the other strong
in bulk of every limb, but tottering
on sluggish knees, while all his body shook
with labor of his breath. Without avail
they rained their blows, and on each hollow side,
each sounding chest, the swift, reverberate strokes
fell without pause; around their ears and brows
came blow on blow, and with relentless shocks
the smitten jaws cracked loud. Entellus stands
unshaken, and, the self-same posture keeping,
only by body-movement or quick eye
parries attack. Dares (like one in siege
against a mountain-citadel, who now will drive
with ram and engine at the craggy wall,
now wait in full-armed watch beneath its towers)
tries manifold approach, most craftily
invests each point of vantage, and renews
his unsuccessful, ever various war.
Then, rising to the stroke, Entellus poised
aloft his ponderous right; but, quick of eye,
the other the descending wrath foresaw
and nimbly slipped away; Entellus so
wasted his stroke on air, and, self-o'erthrown,
dropped prone to earth his monstrous length along,
as when on Erymanth or Ida falls
a hollowed pine from giant roots uptorn.
Alike the Teucrian and Trinacrian throng
shout wildly; while Acestes, pitying, hastes
to lift his gray companion. But, unchecked,
undaunted by his fall, the champion brave
rushed fiercer to the fight, his strength now roused
by rage, while shame and courage confident
kindle his soul; impetuous he drives
Dares full speed all round the ring, with blows
redoubled right and left. No stop or stay
gives he, but like a storm of rattling hail
upon a house-top, so from each huge hand
the champion's strokes on dizzy Dares fall.