But now he struggles with unequal fate,
}
{ And goes, with gods averse, o'ermatched in might,
{ To meet inevitable death in fight;
{ Nor must I break the truce, nor can sustain the sight.
Thou, if thou dar'st, thy present aid supply;
It well becomes a sister's care to try."
At this the lovely nymph, with grief oppressed,
Thrice tore her hair, and beat her comely breast.
To whom Saturnia thus:—"Thy tears are late: