Page:Aeneid (Conington 1866).djvu/425

Up run her comrades, one and all,
And stay their mistress ere she fall.
But daunted far beyond the rest,
Fear mixed with triumph in his breast,
False Arruns takes to flight:
A second time he dares not try
The lance that served him, nor defy
The maid to further fight.
As flies a caitiff wolf for fear
From shepherd slain or mighty steer,
Or ere the avenger's darts draw near,
To pathless mountain steep,
And, conscious of his guilt unseen,
Claps his lithe tail his legs between,
And dives in forest deep;
So Arruns steals confused away,
And flying plunges mid the fray.
In vain she strives with dying hands
To wrench away the blade:
Fixed in her ribs the weapon stands,
Closed by the wound it made.
Bloodless and faint, she gasps for breath;
Her heavy eyes sink down in death;
Her cheek's bright colours fade.
Then thus expiring she addressed
Her truest comrade and her best,
Acca, who wont alone to share
The burden of Camilla's care:
'Thus far, dear Acca, have I sought
To battle with my wound:
But now the fight is over-fought,
And all grows dark around.
Go: my last charge to Turnus tell,
To haste with succour, and repel
The Trojans from the town—farewell.'