Yet even this death with pleasure I receive,
On any terms 'tis better than to live;
These flames from far, may the false Trojan view,
These boding omens, his false flight pursue!'
She said and struck; deep entered in her side,
The piercing steel, with reeking purple dyed,
Clogged in the wound, the cruel weapon stands;
The spouting blood came streaming on her hands;
Her sad attendants saw the deadly stroke
And with loud cries, the sounding palace shook.