aid,
Or trust the venture of his spear again.
As guilty wolf, some steer or shepherd slain,
Slinks to the hills, ere hostile darts pursue,
And clasps his tail between his thighs, full fain
To seek the woods, so Aruns shrank from view,
Sore scared and glad to fly, and in the crowd withdrew.

CIII. With dying hand she strives to pluck the spear:
Deep 'twixt the rib-bones in the wound it lies.
Bloodless she faints; her features, late so fair,
Fade, as the crimson from the pale cheeks flies,
And cold and misty wax the drooping eyes.
Then, with quick gasps, and groaning from her breast,
She calls to faithful Acca, ere she dies,--
Acca, her truest comrade and her best,
The partner of her cares,--and breathes a last request.

CIV. "Sister, 'tis past; the bitter shaft apace
Consumes me; all is growing dark. Go, tell
This news to Turnus; bid him take my place,
And keep these Trojans from the town. Farewell."
So saying, she dropped the bridle, as she fell.
Death's creeping chills the loosened limbs o'erspread.
Down dropped the weapons she had borne so well,
The neck drooped, slackened; and she bowed her head,
And the disdainful soul went groaning to the dead.

CV. Up rose a shout, Camilla fall'n, that beat
The golden stars, and fiercer waxed the fray.
On press the host, in serried ranks complete,
Trojans, Arcadians, Tuscans in array.
High on a hill, fair Opis watched the day,
Set there by Trivia, undisturbed till now,
When, lo, amid the tumult far away
She sees Camilla, in the dust laid low,
Deep from her breast she sighs, and thus in words of woe:

CVI. "Cruel, too cruel, is thy forfeit paid,
Poor maiden, who the Trojan arms would'st dare;
Nor aught availed thee, in the woodland glade
To serve Diana, and her arms to wear.
Yet not unhonoured in thy death, nor bare
Of fame she leaves thee; nor in after day
Shall vengeance fail thy prowess to declare.
Whoso hath dared thy sacred form to slay,
His blood shall rue the deed, and fit atonement pay."

CVII. Beneath the hill a barrow chanced to stand,
Heaped there of old, and holm-oaks frowned beside
Dercennus' tomb, who ruled Laurentum's land.
Here, lightning swift, the lovely Nymph espied,
In shining arms, and puffed with empty pride,
False Aruns. "Caitiff! dost thou think to flee?
Why keep aloof? Turn hitherward!"