Even as the suppliant prayed, Hilt-deep, the neck bent back, he drove the shining blade.
LXXIII.

Hard by, the son of Haemon there was seen, Apollo's priest and Trivia's, all aglow In robe and armour of resplendent sheen, The holy ribboned chaplet on his brow.
Him, met, afield he chases, lays him low, And o'er him, like a storm-cloud, dark as night, Stands, hugely shadowing the fallen foe: And back Serestus bears his armour bright, A trophy, vowed to thee, Gradivus, lord of fight.
LXXIV.

Then Caeculus, to Vulcan's race allied, And Marsian Umbro, rally 'gainst the foe The wavering ranks.

The Dardan on his side Still rages.

First from Anxur with a blow His sword the shield-arm and the shield laid low.
Big things had Anxur boasted, empty jeers, And deemed his valour with his vaunts would grow: Perchance, with spirit lifted to the spheres, Hoar hairs he looked to see, and length of peaceful years.
LXXV.