Page:Aeneid (Conington 1866).djvu/415

For coif and robe that sweeps the ground
A tiger's spoils are o'er her wound.
E'en then her tiny lance she flung,
Or round her head the tough hide swung,
And with her bullet deftly slung
Brought crane or cygnet low.
Full many a Tyrrhene dame has tried
To gain her for her offspring's bride:
Content with Dian, in the wood
Unstained she keeps her maidenhood.
Ah! had she war's contagion fled,
Nor with the multitude been led
The Trojans to molest!
My true companion she had been,
The chosen favourite of her queen,
In that free service blest.
Now, since the fatal hour is nigh,
Descend, dear goddess, from on high
To Latium's frontier, where the war
Is joining under evil star.
Take these my weapons of offence,
And draw the avenging arrow thence,
That whoso may her life destroy,
Be he from Italy or Troy,
His forfeit blood may pay;
I in a hollow cloud will bear
Her corpse and armour through the air
And in her country lay.'
Fair Opis heard the words she said,
Then in a storm concealed
With swift descent through ether sped,
While loud her weapons pealed

Meantime the Trojans near the wall,
The Tuscans and the horsemen all,
In separate troops arrayed: