They wound, they kill, they watch at every gate;
Renew the fires, and urge their happy fate.
The Æneans wish in vain their wanted chief,
Hopeless of flight, more hopeless of relief.
Thin on the towers they stand; and even those few,
A feeble, fainting, and dejected crew.
Yet in the face of danger some there stood:
The two bold brothers of Sarpedon's blood,
Asius, and Acmon: both the Assaraci;
Young Hæmon, and, though young, resolved to die.