the arm’s full force, has pierced the ribs and is rending the
snowy breast. Down falls Euryalus in death; over his
beauteous limbs gushes the blood, and his powerless neck
sinks on his shoulders; as when a purple flower, severed by
the plough, pines in death, or poppies with faint necks 25
droop the head, when rain has chanced to weigh them
down. But Nisus rushes full on the foe, Volscens his one
object among them all; he cares for none but Volscens:
the enemy cluster round, and assail him on all sides; none
the less he holds on his way, whirling his lightning blade, 30