and with a woman’s piercing shriek, her tresses rent, makes
madly for the walls and the van of battle, heeding not the 35
eyes of men, heeding not the peril and the shower of javelins,
while she fills the heaven with her plaints: “Is it thus,
Euryalus, that I see you again? have you, the late solace
of my waning years, had the heart to leave me alone, unpitying?
nor, when you ventured on such dangerous errand,
might your wretched mother speak her farewell?
Alas! on an unknown land you are lying, exposed to the
ravin[267] of Latium’s dogs and birds; nor have I, your 5