Is death so hard to bear?—Ye gods below!
(Since those above so small compassion show,)
Receive a soul unsullied yet with shame,
Which not belies my great forefathers' name."
He said: and while he spoke, with flying speed
Came Saces urging on his foamy steed:
Fixed on his wounded face a shaft he bore,
And, seeking Turnus, sent his voice before:
"Turnus! on you, on you alone, depends
Our last relief:—compassionate your friends!