Page:The Aeneid of Virgil JOHN CONINGTON 1917 V2.pdf/312

ready for the death he brings to others, and charges in
fury on Venulus, snatches the foe from his horse, folds his
arms round him, and carries him on his saddle before him
with wild and violent speed. Upsoars a shout to heaven,
and every Latian eye is turned to the scene. Over the 5
plain like lightning flies Tarchon, bearing the warrior
and his arms. Then from the top of the chiefs own spear
he breaks off the point, and feels for an unguarded part
where to plant the deadly blow: the foe, struggling, keeps
off Tarchon's hand from his throat, and repels force with 10
force. As when the golden eagle soaring on high carries
a serpent he has caught, trussing it in his claws, and adhering
with his taloned gripe; the wounded reptile writhes
its spiral coils, stiffens with erected scales, and hisses from
its mouth, surging and swelling; the eagle, undismayed, 15
plies it despite its struggles with his hooked beak, while
his pinions beat the air: even thus Tarchon carries his
prize in triumph from the bands of Tibur's folk. Following
their chief's auspicious lead, the sons of Mæonia charge
the foe. Then Arruns, the man of fate, compasses swift 20
Camilla about, dart in hand, with many a forestalling wile,
and tries what chance may be readiest. Wherever the
fiery maid dashes into the midst of the battle, Arruns
threads his way after her, and scans her steps in silence:
wherever she returns in triumph, escaping safely from the 25
foe, that way the youth turns his swift and stealthy rein;
now makes proof of this approach, now of that, and traverses
the whole circle, and shakes with relentless malice
his inevitable lance. It chanced that one Chloreus, sacred
to Cybele and once her priest, was shining conspicuous 30
from afar in Phrygian armour, urging on a foaming charger,
whose covering was a skin adorned with golden clasp and
brazen scales set plume-wise. He, in the blaze of foreign
purple, was launching Gortynian shafts from a Lycian bow;
golden was the bow that rang from his shoulder, golden the 35
helm on his sacred head; his saffron scarf with its rustling
gauzy folds was gathered up by a golden brooch, and his
tunic and his hose decked with barbaric broidery. He it