the air with blows. For him a match is sought; but none from all that throng durst face him or draw the gloves on to his hands. So, exultant and thinking all resign the prize, he stood before Aeneas’ feet; then, tarrying no longer, grasps the bull by the horn with his left hand, speaking thus: “Goddess-born, if no man dare trust himself to the fray, what end shall there be to my standing here? How long is it fitting to keep me waiting? Bid me lead your gift away!” At once all the Dardans shouted applause, and bade the promised prize be duly given him.

At this Acestes sternly chides Entellus, as he sat next him on the green couch of grass: “Entellus, once bravest of heroes, though in vain, will you so tamely let gifts so great be carried off without a struggle? Where now, pray, is the divine Eryx,