Aeneas, who beheld him scattering thus The embattled ranks before him, straightway went Through the thick fight, amid encountering spears, In search of godlike Pandarus. He found Lycaon’s blameless and illustrious son, And stood before him, and addressed him thus:⁠—

“Where is thy bow, O Pandarus, and where Thy wingèd arrows? Where the old renown In which no warrior here can vie with thee, And none upon the Lycian shore can boast That he excels thee? Hasten, and lift up Thy hands in prayer to Jupiter, and send An arrow at this man, whoe’er he be, Who thus prevails, and thus afflicts our host, And makes the knees of many a strong man weak. Strike him⁠—unless he be some god incensed At Troy for sacrifice withheld, since hard It is to bear the anger of a god.”