me, and my spoils will tempt him. The loss of a tomb 35
will fall on me lightly. Long, long have I been a clog on
time, hated of heaven and useless to earth, from the day
when the father of gods and sovereign of men blasted me
with the wind of his lightning, and laid on me the finger
of flame.’[139]
“Such the words he kept on repeating and continued
unshaken, while we were shedding our hearts in tears—Creusa,
my wife, and Ascanius and my whole house, 5
imploring my father not to be bent on dragging