ille reducta loricam clipeique ingens onus impedit hasta, tum caput orantis nequiquam et multa parantis dicere deturbat terrae, truncumque tepentem provolvens super haec inimico pectore fatur: istic nunc, metuende, iace.
Drawing back his spear, he pins the corslet and the shields huge burden together; then, as the youth vainly pleaded and tried to say many a word, he strikes his head to the ground and, as he spurns the trunk, still warm, speaks these words over him from his pitiless heart: Lie there now, terrible man!