Aphidnus next, and Erymanthus dies, And Meropes, and the gigantic size Of Bitias, threat'ning with his ardent eyes.
Not by the feeble dart he fell oppress'd (A dart were lost within that roomy breast), But from a knotted lance, large, heavy, strong, Which roar'd like thunder as it whirl'd along:
Not two bull hides th' impetuous force withhold, Nor coat of double mail, with scales of gold.
Down sunk the monster bulk and press'd the ground;His arms and clatt'ring shield on the vast body sound, Not with less ruin than the Bajan mole, Rais'd on the seas, the surges to control-At once comes tumbling down the rocky wall;Prone to the deep, the stones disjointed fall Of the vast pile; the scatter'd ocean flies;Black sands, discolor'd froth, and mingled mud arise:
The frighted billows roll, and seek the shores;Then trembles Prochyta, then Ischia roars:
Typhoeus, thrown beneath, by Jove's command, Astonish'd at the flaw that shakes the land, Soon shifts his weary side, and, scarce awake, With wonder feels the weight press lighter on his back.
The warrior god the Latian troops inspir'd, New strung their sinews, and their courage fir'd, But chills the Trojan hearts with cold affright:
Then black despair precipitates their flight.
When Pandarus beheld his brother kill'd, The town with fear and wild confusion fill'd, He turns the hinges of the heavy gate With both his hands, and adds his shoulders to the weight Some happier friends within the walls inclos'd;The rest shut out, to certain death expos'd:
Fool as he was, and frantic in his care, T' admit young Turnus, and include the war!
He thrust amid the crowd, securely bold, Like a fierce tiger pent amid the fold.
Too late his blazing buckler they descry, And sparkling fires that shot from either eye, His mighty members, and his ample breast, His rattling armor, and his crimson crest.
Far from that hated face the Trojans fly, All but the fool who sought his destiny.
Mad Pandarus steps forth, with vengeance vow'd For Bitias' death, and threatens thus aloud:
"These are not Ardea's walls, nor this the town Amata proffers with Lavinia's crown:
'T is hostile earth you tread.Of hope bereft, No means of safe return by flight are left."To whom, with count'nance calm, and soul sedate, Thus Turnus: "Then begin, and try thy fate:
My message to the ghost of Priam bear;
Tell him a new Achilles sent thee there."A lance of tough ground ash the Trojan threw, Rough in the rind, and knotted as it grew:
With his full force he whirl'd it first around;But the soft yielding air receiv'd the wound:
Imperial Juno turn'd the course before, And fix'd the wand'ring weapon in the door.
"But hope not thou," said Turnus, "when I strike, To shun thy fate: our force is not alike, Nor thy steel temper'd by the Lemnian god."Then rising, on his utmost stretch he stood, And aim'd from high: the full descending blow Cleaves the broad front and beardless cheeks in two.
Down sinks the giant with a thund'ring sound:
His pond'rous limbs oppress the trembling ground;Blood, brains, and foam gush from the gaping wound:
Scalp, face, and shoulders the keen steel divides, And the shar'd visage hangs on equal sides.
The Trojans fly from their approaching fate;And, had the victor then secur'd the gate, And to his troops without unclos'd the bars, One lucky day had ended all his wars.
But boiling youth, and blind desire of blood, Push'd on his fury, to pursue the crowd.
Hamstring'd behind, unhappy Gyges died;
Then Phalaris is added to his side.
