Fierce Volscens foams with rage, and, gazing round,
Descried not him who gave the fatal wound,
Nor knew to fix revenge:—"But thou," he cries,
"Shalt pay for both," and at the prisoner flies
With his drawn sword. Then, struck with deep despair,
That cruel sight the lover could not bear;
But from his covert rushed in open view,
And sent his voice before him as he flew:—
"Me! me!" he cried—"turn all your swords alone
On me—the fact confessed, the fault my own.