Now, fire in hand, and burning to destroy, The fierce Rutulians still the siege maintain.
Pent in their ramparts stay the sons of Troy, Hopeless of flight, and line the walls in vain, A little band, but all that now remain.
Thymoetes, son of Hicetaon bold, Asius, the son of Imbrasus, the twain Assaraci, Castor and Thymbris old, These, battling in the van, the desperate strife uphold.
XIX.

Next stand the brethren of Sarpedon slain, Claros and Themon,--braver Lycians none.
There, with a rock's huge fragment toils amain Lyrnessian Acmon, famous Clytius' son, Menestheus' brother, nor less fame he won.
Hot fares the combat; from the walls these fling The stones, and those the javelins.

Each one Toils to defend; these blazing firebrands bring, And fetch the flying shafts, and fit them to the string.
XX.

There too, bare-headed, in the midst is seen Fair Venus' care, the Dardan youth divine, Bright as a diamond, or the lustrous sheen Of gems, that, set in yellow gold, entwine The neck, or sparkling on the temples shine.
So gleams the ivory, inlaid with care In chest of terebinth, or boxwood scrine; And o'er his milk-white neck and shoulders fair, Twined with the pliant gold, streams down the warrior's hair.
XXI.

There, too, brave Ismarus, the nations see, Scattering the poisoned arrows from thy hands; A gallant knight, and born of high degree In far Maeonia, where his golden sands Pactolus rolls along the fruitful lands.
There he, whom yesterday the voice of fame Raised to the stars, the valiant Mnestheus stands, Who drove fierce Turnus from the camp with shame; There, Capys, he who gave the Capuan town its name.
XXII.