of a cruel death—whom I now see scattered in rout, and 10
hear their groans as they fall? What can I do? what
lowest depth of earth will yawn for me? Nay, do you,
ye winds, have compassion—on reef, on rock—see, it
is I, Turnus, who am fain to plead—dash me this vessel,
and lodge it on the sandbank’s ruthless shoal, where none 15
that know my shame, Rutuli or rumour, may find me
out!” So speaking, he sways in spirit to this side and to
that: should he for disgrace so foul impale his frenzied
breast on the sword’s point, and drive the stark blade