Page:Virgil's Pastorals, Georgics and Aeneis - Dryden (1709) - volume 2.djvu/301

And rage of Love, that plung'd her in Despair, 1000
The Sisters had not cut the topmost Hair;
Which Proserpine, and they can only know;
Nor made her sacred to the Shades below.
Downward the various Goddess took her flight;
And drew a thousand Colours from the Light: 1005
Then stood above the dying Lover's Head,
And said, I thus devote thee to the dead.
$\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,}$This Off'ring to th' Infernal Gods I bear:
Thus while she spoke, she cut the fatal Hair;
The strugling Soul was loos'd; and Life dissolv'd in Air. 1010