P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid
Theodore C. Williams, Ed.

Then Sire Aeneas willed to make a stay
to so much rage, nor let Entellus' soul
flame beyond bound, but bade the battle pause,
and, rescuing weary Dares, thus he spoke
in soothing words: “Ill-starred! What mad attempt
is in thy mind? Will not thy heart confess
thy strength surpassed, and auspices averse?
Submit, for Heaven decrees!” With such wise words
he sundered the fell strife. But trusty friends
bore Dares off: his spent limbs helpless trailed,
his head he could not lift, and from his lips
came blood and broken teeth. So to the ship
they bore him, taking, at Aeneas' word,
the helmet and the sword—but left behind
Entellus' prize of victory, the bull.
He, then, elate and glorying, spoke forth:
“See, goddess-born, and all ye Teucrians, see,
what strength was mine in youth, and from what death
ye have clelivered Dares.” Saying so,
he turned him full front to the bull, who stood
for reward of the fight, and, drawing back
his right hand, poising the dread gauntlet high,
swung sheer between the horns and crushed the skull;
a trembling, lifeless creature, to the ground
the bull dropped forward dead. Above the fallen
Entellus cried aloud, “This victim due
I give thee, Eryx, more acceptable
than Dares' death to thy benignant shade.
For this last victory and joyful day,
my gauntlets and my art I leave with thee.”