With equal ardour fired and warlike joy, His glowing friend address'd the Dardan boy:

'These deeds, my Nisus, shalt thou dare alone?

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Must all the fame, the peril, be thine own?
Am I by thee despised and left afar,
As one unfit to share the toils of war?
Not thus his son the great Opheltes taught;
Not thus my sire in Argive combats fought;
Not thus, when Ilion fell by heavenly hate,
I track'd Æneas through the walks of fate:
Thou know'st my deeds, my breast devoid
of fear,

And hostile life-drops dim my gory spear.
Here is a soul with hope immortal burns,
And life, ignoble life, for glory spurns.
Fame, fame is cheaply earn'd by fleeting

breath:

The price of honour is the sleep of death.'

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Where Pallas' walls at distance meet the sight,

Saved from Arisba's stately domes o'erthrown;

night.

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Then shall Æneas in his pride return,
While hostile matrons raise their offspring's

Two massy tripods, also, shall be thine; Two talents polish'd from the glittering mine;

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An ancient cup, which Tyrian Dido gave, While yet our vessels press'd the Punic

Henceforth affection, sweetly thus begun, Shall join our bosoms and our souls in one. Without thy aid no glory shall be mine; Without thy dear advice, no great design; Alike through life esteem'd, thou godlike boy,

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In war my bulwark, and in peace my joy.'

To him Euryalus: 'No day shall shame The rising glories which from this I claim. Fortune may favour, or the skies may frown,

But valour, spite of fate, obtains renown. Yet, ere from hence our eager steps depart, One boon I beg, the nearest to my heart: My mother, sprung from Priam's royal line, Like thine ennobled, hardly less divine, Nor Troy nor king Acestes' realms restrain Her feeble age from dangers of the main; Alone she came, all selfish fears above, 181 A bright example of maternal love. Unknown the secret enterprise I brave, Lest grief should bend my parent to the

grave,

From this alone no fond adieus I seek,

To Turnus dear, a prophet and a prince,
His omens more than augur's skill evince;
But he, who thus foretold the fate of all,
Could not avert his own untimely fall.
Next Remus' armour-bearer, hapless, fell,
And three unhappy slaves the carnage swell;
The charioteer along his courser's sides
Expires, the steel his sever'd neck divides;
And, last, his lord is number'd with the
dead:

Bounding convulsive, flies the gasping head; From the swoll'n veins the blackening torrents pour;

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Stain'd is the couch and earth with clotting

Just at this hour a band of Latian horse To Turnus' camp pursue their destined

course:

While the slow foot their tardy march delay,

The knights, impatient, spur along the way: Three hundred mail-clad men, by Volscens led,

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To Turnus with their master's promise sped:

Now they approach the trench, and view the walls,

When, on the left, a light reflection falls; The plunder'd helmet, through the waning night,

Sheds forth a silver radiance, glancing bright.

Volscens with question loud the pair alarms:

'Stand, stragglers! stand! why early thus in arms?

From whence, to whom?'- He meets with no reply;

Trusting the covert of the night, they fly: The thicket's depth with hurried pace they

tread,

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While round the wood the hostile squadron spread.

With brakes entangled, scarce a path between,

Dreary and dark appears the sylvan scene. Euryalus his heavy spoils impede,

The boughs and winding turns his steps mislead;

But Nisus scours along the forest's maze To where Latinus' steeds in safety graze, Then backward o'er the plain his eyes ex

tend,

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On every side they seek his absent friend.

O God! my boy,' he cries, ' of me bereft, In what impending perils art thou left!' Listening he runs above the waving trees Tumultuous voices swell the passing breeze; The war-cry rises, thundering hoofs around Wake the dark echoes of the trembling ground.

Again he turns, of footsteps hears the noise; The sound elates, the sight his hope destroys: The hapless boy a ruffian train surround, While lengthening shades his weary way confound;

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Him with loud shouts the furious knights pursue,