Messenger [looking after her]: Like some wild creature reft of sense she goes.
Swift as an arrow shot by Parthian hand,
Or as a ship which boisterous winds impel,
Or as the flight of falling star from heaven,430
Which in unswerving course athwart the sky
Darts on its fiery way: with maddened haste
The queen has sped her flight, and even now
Has ta'en her stand between th' opposing lines.
The battle pauses yet a little while,
O'ercome at sight of those maternal tears.