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156 effecting a rescue, hides himself in the thicket, whence he launches two spears with fatal effect upon the party who are dragging along their prisoner. Enraged at the sudden attack, and seeing no enemy in the darkness, Volscens lays hold upon Euryalus, and vows revenge. Nisus rushes from his cover, and implores them to turn their swords on him, and to spare a youth whose only crime has been his friendship.

In vain he spoke: the sword, fierce driven,

That alabaster breast had riven.

Down falls Euryalus, and lies

In death's enthralling agonies:

Blood trickles o'er his limbs of snow;

His head sinks gradually low:

Thus, severed by the ruthless plough,

Dim fades a purple flower:

Their weary necks so poppies bow,

O'erladen by the shower.

But Nisus on the midmost flies,

With Volscens, Volscens in his eyes:

In clouds the warriors round him rise,

Thick hailing blow on blow:

Yet on he bears, no stint, no stay;

Like thunderbolt his falchion's sway:

Till as for aid the Rutule shrieks

Plunged in his throat the weapon reeks:

The dying hand has reft away

The lifeblood of its foe.

Then, pierced to death, asleep he fell

On the dead breast he loved so well."

With the first dawn Turnus leads his forces to the attack—the heads of Nisus and Euryalus borne in front upon the points of spears, so savage is the