whoever he be, Trojan or Italian, that shall profane with
the stroke of death that sacred person, make to me in like
manner the atonement of his blood. Afterwards in the
hollow of a cloud I will bear off the body of my lost favourite 30
undespoiled of its arms, and lay her down in her
own land.” Thus she: and Opis hurtled downward through
the buoyant air, a black whirlwind enswathing her form.
But the Trojan band meanwhile is nearing the walls
with the Etruscan chiefs and the whole array of cavalry, 35
marshalled into companies. Steeds are prancing and