ng. Stay thy flight.
Whom dost thou fly? O, whither wilt thou go?
One word--the last, sad word--one parting look bestow!"

LXII. So strove AEneas, weeping, to appease
Her wrathful spirit. She, with down-fixt eyes
Turns from him, scowling, heedless of his pleas,
And hard as flint or marble, nor replies.
Then, starting, to the shadowy grove she flies,
Where dead Sychaeus, her old lord, renews
His love with hers, and sorrows with her sighs.
Touched by her fate, the Dardan hero views,
And far with tearful gaze the melting shade pursues.

LXIII. Thus onward to the furthest fields they strayed,
The haunts of heroes here doth Tydeus fare,
Parthenopaeus, pale Adrastus' shade.
And many a Dardan, wailed in upper air,
And fallen in war. Sighing, he sees them there,
Glaucus, Thersilochus and Medon slain,
Antenor's sons, three brethren past compare,
And Polyphoetes, priest of Ceres' fane,
And brave Idaeus, still grasping the sword and rein.

LXIV. All throng around, nor rest content to claim
One look, but linger with delight, and fain
Would pace beside, and question why he came.
But when the Greeks and Agamemnon's train
Beheld the hero, and his arms shone plain,
Huge terror shook them, and some turned to fly,
As erst they scattered to their ships; some strain
Their husky voice, and raise a feeble cry.
The warshout mocks their throats, the gibbering accents die.

LXV. There, too, he sees great Priam's son, the famed
Deiphobus, in evil plight forlorn;
A mangled shape, his visage marred and maimed.
His ravaged face the ruthless steel had torn,--
Face, nose and ears--and both his hands were shorn.
Him, cowering back, and striving to disown
The shameful tokens of his foemen's scorn,
Scarcely AEneas knew, then, soon as known,
Thus, unaccosted, hailed in old, familiar tone:

LXVI. "O brave Deiphobus, great Teucer's seed!
Whose heart had will, whose cruel hand had might
To wreak such punishment? Fame told, indeed,
That, tired with slaughter, thou had'st sunk that night
On heaps of mingled carnage in the fight.
Then on the shore I reared an empty mound,
And called (thy name and armour mark the site)
Thy shade. Thyself, dear comrade, ne'er was found.
Vain was my parting wish to lay thee in the ground."

LXVII. "Not thine the fault"; Deiphobus replied,
"Thy debt is rendered; thou