Page:Aeneid (Conington 1866).djvu/74

All wretch, whom his demented maid
Had warned, but warned in vain!

So, when I saw them round me form,
And knew their blood was pulsing warm,
I thus began: 'Brave spirits, wrought
To noblest temper, all for naught,
If desperate venture ye desire,
Ye see our lost estate:
Gone from each fane, each secret shrine,
Are those who made this realm divine:
The town ye aid is wrapt in fire:
Come—rush we on our fate.
No safety may the vanquished find
Till hope of safety be resigned.'
So valour grew to madness. Then,
Like gaunt wolves rushing from their den,
Whom lawless hunger's sullen growl
Drives forth into the night to prowl,
The while, with jaws all parched and black,
Their famished whelps expect them back,
Amid the volley and the foe,
With death before our eyes, we go
On through the town, while darkness spreads
Its hollow covert o'er our heads.
What witness could recount aright
The woes, the carnage of that night,
Or make his tributary sighs
Keep measure with our agonies?
An ancient city topples down
From broad-based heights of old renown:
There in the street confusedly strown
Lie age and helplessness o'erthrown,
Block up the entering of the doors,
And cumber Heaven's own temple-floors.