Page:The Aeneid of Virgil JOHN CONINGTON 1917 V2.pdf/250

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snaps short, and pierces the midriff with the broken
wood. Down he tumbles, disgorging from his breast the
warm life-torrent that leaves him cold, and long choking
gasps smite on his sides. They look round this way and
that: while the same fell arm, nerved by success, is levelling, 5
see! another weapon from the ear-tip. While all
is confusion, the spear has passed through Tagus' two
temples with whizzing sound, and lies warmly lodged in his
cloven brain. Volscens storms with fury, yet sees nowhere
the author of the wound, nor on whom to vent his 10
rage; "You, however, shall pay both debts meanwhile
with your heart's blood," cries he; and speaking, rushes
with drawn sword on Euryalus. Then, indeed, in frantic
agony, Nisus shouts aloud; no more care had he to hide
himself in darkness, no more strength to bear grief so 15
terrible: "Me, me! behold the doer! make me your mark,
O Rutulians! mine is all the blame; he had no heart, no
hand for such deeds; this heaven, these stars know that
it is true; it was but that he loved his unhappy friend too
well." Thus he was pleading; but the sword, driven with 20
the arm's full force, has pierced the ribs and is rending the
snowy breast. Down falls Euryalus in death; over his
beauteous limbs gushes the blood, and his powerless neck
sinks on his shoulders; as when a purple flower, severed by
the plough, pines in death, or poppies with faint necks 25
droop the head, when rain has chanced to weigh them
down. But Nisus rushes full on the foe, Volscens his one
object among them all; he cares for none but Volscens:
the enemy cluster round, and assail him on all sides; none
the less he holds on his way, whirling his lightning blade, 30
till at last he lodges it full in the Rutulian's face, as he
shrieks for aid, and dying robs his foe of life. Then he
flung himself on his breathless friend, pierced through
and through, and there at length slept away in peaceful
death. 35

Happy pair! if this my song has aught of potency, no
lapse of days shall efface your names from the memory of
time, so long as the house of Æneas shall dwell on the