me
A woe unto my weary heart; yea, now the wound goes home. 850
For I am he who stained thy name, O son, with guilt of mine,
Thrust forth by Fate from fatherland and sceptre of my line:
I should have paid the penalty unto my country's hate,
And given up my guilty soul to death, my very fate.
I live: I leave not sons of men, nor let the light go by--
--Yet will I leave them."
So he spake, and on his halting thigh
Rose up, and, howsoe'er his hurt might drag his body down,
Unvanquished yet, he called his horse, his very pleasures crown,
And glory; who had borne him forth victorious from all war;
And thus he spake unto the beast that seemed to sorrow sore: 860

"Rhoebus, o'erlong--if aught be long to men that pass away--
Have we twain lived: those bloody spoils shalt thou bring home today,
And carrying AEneas' head avenge my Lausus' woe.
Or if our might no more may make a road whereby to go,
Thou too shalt fall: I deem indeed thou, stout-heart, hast no will
To suffer other men's commands, or Trojan joy fulfil."

And therewithal he backeth him, and as he used of old
Settleth his limbs: good store of shafts his either hand doth hold:
His head is glittering o'er with brass, and horse-hair shags his crest.
So midmost of the fight he bears, and ever in his breast 870
Swelleth the mighty sea of shame and mingled miseries.
And now across the fight his voice thrice on AEneas cries.
AEneas knew it well forsooth, and joyfully he prayed:
"So grant the Father of the Gods! So may Apollo aid
That thou may'st fall on me in fight!"

So much he spake, and went his way to meet the foeman's shaft;
But spake the other: "Bitter wretch, who took'st away my son,
Why fright me now? by that one way my heart might be undone:
No death I dread, no God that is, in battle would I spare.
Enough--I come to thee to die; but first these gifts I bear." 880

He spake the word, and 'gainst the foe a dart withal he cast,
And shaft on shaft he lays on him about him flitting fast,
Wide circling; but the golden boss through all the storm bore out
Thrice while AEneas faceth him he rides the ring about,
Casting the weapons from his hand; and thrice the Trojan lord
Bears round a mighty thicket set in brazen battle-board.
But when such tarrying w