Still flit before mine eyes. I speak with shame:
I am afraid. Some great calamity,
Some hidden ill my prescient soul forebodes.
Where is my father? Where my faithful wife,
Proud of that troop of children at her side?1150
Why does my left side miss the lion's skin,
My shield in danger and my couch in sleep?
Where is my bow, my darts? Who, while I live
Has dared remove my arms? Who so great spoils
Has gained? Who then so bold as not to fear1155