An enormous lion advances. At first, with a calm pride, he traverses the arena, throwing his dreadful looks round the amphitheater that environs him; a confused murmur announces the terror that he inspires. In a short time the sound of clarions animates him; he replies by his roarings; his shaggy mane is erected around his monstrous head; he lashes his loins with his tail, and the fire begins to issue from his sparkling eyeballs. The affrighted populace wish and dread to see the wretch appear who is to be delivered up to the rage of this monster.
Terror and pity seize on every breast. The combatant, whom Mezentius` guards themselves had taken for Phanor, presents himself. Lydia could not distinguish him. The horror with which she was seized obliged her to turn away her eyes from this spectacle, which shocks the sensibility of her tender soul. Alas! what would she feel if she knew that Phanor, the dear friend of Lausus, was the criminal whom they have selected; if she knew that Lausus himself had taken his friend`s place, and that it was he who was going to fight!
Half-naked, his hair disheveled, he walked with an intrepid air; a poniard for the attack, a buckler for defense, are the only arms by which he was protected. Mezentius, prepossessed, sees in him only the guilty Phanor. His own blood is drunk, Nature is blind; it is his own son whom he delivers up to death, and his bowels are not moved. Resentment and revenge stifle every other sentiment.
He saw with a barbarous joy the fury of the lion rising by degrees. Lausus, impatient, provoked the monster and urged him to the combat. He advanced toward him; the lion sprang forward. Lausus avoided him. Thrice the enraged animal made toward him with his foaming jaws, and thrice Lausus escaped his murderous fangs.
In the meantime Phanor learned what was happening. He ran up, bearing down the multitude before him, while his piercing cries made the amphitheater resound. “Stop, Mezentius! Save your son, for it is he! It is Lausus who is engaged!” Mezentius looked and knew Phanor, who hastened toward him.
Imminent danger
“Oh, ye gods, what do I see! My people, assist me! Throw yourselves on the arena, save my son from the jaws of death!” At the name of Lausus, Lydia fell down dead on the steps of the amphitheater: her heart cold, her eyes covered with darkness. Mezentius saw only his son, now in imminent danger. A thousand hands strive in vain for his defense: the monster pursued him and would have devoured him before they could have come to his assistance.
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