was wildered—there rose up the image of my dear
father, as I saw the king, his fellow in age, breathing out
his life through that ghastly wound. There rose up Creusa[137]
unprotected, my house, now plundered, and the chance to
which I had left my little Iulus. I cast my eyes back and 15
look about to see what strength there is round me. All
had forsaken me, too tired to stay; they had leapt to the
ground, or dropped helplessly into the flames. And now
I was there alone. When lodged in the temple of Vesta,
and crouching mutely in its darkest recess, the daughter of 20