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He had been the chief of one of the neighboring cities, but his people drove him out. With him was joined his son Lausus, a generous youth worthy of a better sire. Camilla, the favorite of Diana, a huntress and warrior, after the fashion of the Amazons, came with her band of mounted followers, including a select number of her own sex, and ranged herself on the side of Turnus.

His son Lausus also came to the war with a thousand men from the Etrurian city of A-gyl'la. Next came the brave Av-en-ti'nus, son of the renowned hero, Her'cu-les, who performed those marvelous feats, of which we read with wonder in the ancient legends.

He was a Grecian by birth, who had left Argos, his native city, and followed Evander into Italy. It pierced the shield of Mezentius, and wounded him in the thigh. Lausus, his son, could not bear the sight, but rushed forward and interposed himself, while the followers pressed round Mezentius and bore him away.

Lausus being hard pressed by the Arcadians, King Turnus was called to his assistance, and rushing up he cried to the Rutulians, "Desist you for a moment from the battle. I alone will fight Pallas. Would that his father were here to see." Hearing these words the brave son of Evander advanced boldly into the open plain between the two hosts.

As a cliff that juts into the waste of waves, meeting the raging winds and breasting the deep, endures all the threatening force of sky and sea, itself fixed immovable, so he dashes to earth Hebrus son of Dolichaon, and with him Latagus, and Palmus as he fled; catching Latagus full front in the face with a vast fragment of mountain rock, while Palmus he hamstrings, and leaves him rolling helpless; his armour he gives Lausus to wear on his shoulders, and the plumes to fix on his crest.

First from the Tyrrhene coast savage Mezentius, scorner of the gods, opens the war and arrays his columns. By him is Lausus, his son, unexcelled in bodily beauty by any save Laurentine Turnus, Lausus tamer of horses and destroyer of wild beasts; he leads a thousand men who followed him in vain from Agylla town; worthy to be happier in ancestral rule, and to have other than Mezentius for father.

Many a time he asks for Lausus, and sends many an one to call him back and carry a parent's sad commands. But Lausus his weeping comrades were bearing lifeless on his armour, mighty and mightily wounded to death. Afar the soul prophetic of ill knew their lamentation: he soils his gray hairs plenteously with dust, and stretches both hands on high, and clings on the dead.

While he was thus resting from the fatigues of the battle, he was full of anxiety for his son, and sent messenger after messenger to recall him from the fight. But too soon a crowd of weeping warriors appeared, carrying the corpse of Lausus in their arms. The sorrowing father divined what had occurred from their lamentations, even before the body was brought to him.

Overjoyed at the sight of his enemy's blood, Æneas drew his sword from its sheath, and rushed upon Mezentius, who was as yet bewildered by the blow. When Lausus saw his father in such peril he sprang forward and stood before Æneas, while Mezentius fell back among his friends, the Trojan lance still trailing in his armor.

I name, therefore, these two men, because they are the two most accomplished artists, merely as such, whom I know, in literature; and because I think you will be afterwards interested in investigating how the infinite grace in the words of the one, the severity in those of the other, and the precision in those of both, arise wholly out of the moral elements of their minds, out of the deep tenderness in Virgil which enabled him to write the stories of Nisus and Lausus, and the serene and just benevolence which placed Pope, in his theology, two centuries in advance of his time, and enabled him to sum the law of noble life in two lines which, so far as I know, are the most complete, the most concise, and the most lofty expression of moral temper existing in English words: