As two young lions, nourished by their dam Amid the thickets of some mighty wood, Seizing the beeves and fattened sheep, lay waste The stables, till at length themselves are slain By trenchant weapons in the shepherd’s hand, So by the weapons of Aeneas died These twain; they fell as lofty fir-trees fall. But now, when Menelaus saw their fate, The mighty warrior, deeply sorrowing, rushed Among the foremost, armed in glittering brass, And brandishing his spear; for Mars had roused His soul to fury, trusting he would meet Aeneas, and would perish by his hand. Antilochus, the generous Nestor’s son, Came also to the van, for anxiously He feared mischance might overtake the king, To make the toils of their long warfare vain; And there he found the combatants prepared For battle, with their trusty spears in hand, And standing face to face. At once he took His stand beside the monarch of the Greeks. At sight of the two warriors side by side, All valiant as he was, Aeneas shunned The encounter. They, when they had drawn the dead