Kitap 10
with quivering feet, then o'er his fallen lord
873
entangling dropped, and prone above him lay,
pinning with ponderous shoulder to the ground.
The Trojans and the Latins rouse the skies
with clamor Ioud. Aeneas hastening forth
unsheathes his sword, and looming o'er him cries:
“Where now is fierce Mezentius, and his soul's
wild pulse of rage?” The Tuscan in reply
with eyes uprolled, and gasping as he gave
long looks at heaven, recalled his fading mind:
“Why frown at me and fume, O bitterest foe?
Why threaten death? To slay me is no sin.
Not to take quarter came I to this war,
not truce with thee did my lost Lausus crave,
yet this one boon I pray,—if mercy be
for fallen foes: O, suffer me when dead
in covering earth to hide! Full well I know
what curses of my people ring me round.
Defend me from that rage! I pray to be
my son's companion in our common tomb.”
He spoke: then offered with unshrinking eye
his veined throat to the sword. O'er the bright mail
his vital breath gushed forth in streaming gore.
