But the foe, quick-ey'd, Foresees the coming blow, and lightly leaps aside.
LXI.

On empty air Entellus wastes his strength.
Down goes the giant, baulked of his design, Fallen like a giant, and lies stretched at length.
So, torn from earth, on Ida's height divine Or Erymanthus, falls the hollow pine.
Up spring each rival's countrymen.

Loud cheers The welkin rend, and, bursting through the line, Forth runs Acestes, and his friend uprears, Pitying his fallen worth and fellowship of years.
LXII.

Fearless, unshaken, with his soul aflame For vengeance, up Entellus springs again, And conscious valour and the sense of shame Rouse all his strength as, burning with disdain, He drives huge Dares headlong o'er the plain, Now right, now left, keeps pummelling his foe; No stint, no stay; as rattling hailstones rain On roof-tops, so with many a ceaseless blow Each hand in turn he plies, and pounds him to and fro.
LXIII.

But good AEneas suffered not too far The strife to rage, not let Entellus slake His wrath, but rescued Dares from the war, Sore-spent, and thus in soothing terms bespake, "Poor friend! what madness doth thy mind o'ertake?
Feel'st not that more than mortal is his aid?
The gods are with him, and thy cause forsake.
Yield then to heaven and desist."-- He said, And with his voice straightway the deadly strife allayed.
LXIV.