Then, stirred with pity, the Dardanian throng Their vanquished kinsman from the contest bore.
His sick knees wearily he drags along, Feeble and helpless, for his wound is sore; And loosened teeth and clots of curdled gore Spout forth, as o'er his shoulders nods each way The drooping head.

They lead him to the shore, His gifts, the sword and helmet; but the bay And bull Entellus takes, the victor of the day.
LXV.

Forth steps the champion, glorying in the prize, Pride in his port, defiance on his brow.
"See, Goddess-born; ye Teucrians, mark," he cried, "What strength Entellus in his youth could show; How dire a doom ye warded from his foe." He spake and, standing opposite the bull, Swung back his arm, and, rising to the blow, Betwixt the horns with hardened glove smote full, And back upon the brain drove in the splintered skull.
LXVI.

Down drops the beast, and on the earth lies low, Quivering but dead.

Then o'er him, as he lay, Entellus cries "O Eryx, hear my vow.
This life, for Dares, I devote this day, A nobler victim and a worthier prey.
Accept it thou who taught'st this arm to wield The gloves of death.