He spake, and cast his spear. Minerva kept The weapon faithful to its aim. It struck The nose, and near the eye; then passing on Betwixt the teeth, the unrelenting edge Cleft at its root the tongue; the point came out Beneath the chin. The warrior from his car Fell headlong; his bright armor, fairly wrought, Clashed round him as he fell; his fiery steeds Started aside with fright; his breath and strength Were gone at once, Aeneas, with his shield And his long spear, leaped down to guard the slain, That the Achaians might not drag him thence. There, lion-like, confiding in his strength, He stalked around the corpse, and over it Held his round shield and lance, prepared to slay Whoever came, and shouting terribly.
Tydides raised a stone—a mighty weight, Such as no two men living now could lift; But he, alone, could swing it round with ease. With this he smote Aeneas on the hip, Where the thigh joins its socket. By the blow He brake the socket and the tendons twain, And tore the skin with the rough, jagged stone. The hero fell upon his knees, but stayed His fall with his strong palm upon the ground; And o’er his eyes a shadow came like night.
Then had the king of men, Aeneas, died, But for Jove’s daughter, Venus, who perceived His danger instantly—his mother, she Who bore him to Anchises when he kept His beeves, a herdsman. Round her son she cast Her white arms, spreading over him in folds Her shining robe, to be a fence against The weapons of the foe, lest some Greek knight Should at his bosom aim the steel to take His life. And thus the goddess bore away From that fierce conflict her beloved son.
Nor did the son of Capaneus forget The bidding of the warlike Diomed, But halted his firm-footed steeds apart From the great tumult, with the long reins stretched And fastened to the chariot. Next, he sprang To seize the horses with fair-flowing manes, That drew the chariot of Aeneas. These He drave away, far from the Trojan host, To the well-greaved