strength been given me: now the cruel wound overcomes
me; and all around me grows dim and dark. Haste and
carry Turnus my dying charge, to take my place in the
battle and keep off the Trojans from the town. And now
farewell.” As she spoke she dropped the bridle, swimming 15
down to earth with no willing act. Then as the death-chill
grows she gradually discumbers herself of the entire weight
of the body, droops her unstrung neck and her head on
which fate has seized, quitting too her armour, and her
soul, resenting its lot, flies groaningly to the shades. Then 20