Scarce from his marrow could the victor tear The steel, so tightly clung it to the bone.
Forth Hisbo leaped, to smite him unaware.
Rash hope! brave Pallas caught him, rushing on, And through the lung his sword a passage won.
Then Sthenius he slew; beside him bled Anchemolus, of Rhoetus' stock the son, The lewd defiler of his stepdame's bed.
Fate stopped his lewdness now, and stretched him with the dead.
LIII.

Ye, too, young Thymber and Larides fair, Twin sons of Daucus, did the victor quell.
So like in form and features were the pair, That e'en their doting parents failed to tell This one from that.

Alas! the sword too well Divides them now.

Here, tumbled on the sward, At one fierce swoop, the head of Thymber fell.
Thy severed hand, Larides, seeks its lord; The fingers, half alive and quivering, clutch the sword.
LIV.

Fired by his words, his deeds the Arcadians view, And shame and anger arm them to the fray.
Rhoeteus, as past his two-horsed chariot flew He pierced,--'twas Ilus Pallas meant to slay, And Ilus gained that moment of delay.
Rhoeteus, in flight from Teuthras and from thee, His brother Tyres, met the spear midway.
Down from his chariot in the dust rolled he, And, dying, with his heels beat the Rutulian lea.
LV.