Farewell!” The reins went slack, the earth received her Yielding her body to its cold, resigning The sagging head to death; and she let fall, For the last time, her weapons, and the spirit Went with a moan indignant to the shadows. And then indeed the golden stars were smitten By a wild outcry; with Camilla fallen, The fight takes on new fierceness: all the Trojans Rush in, Etruscan leaders, all the squadrons That came, once, from Evander. High in the mountains Opis, Diana’s sentinel, unfrightened, Had watched the battle, and seen, through all that fury, Camilla slain in pitiful death. She sighed And spoke with deep emotion:--“Cruel, cruel, The punishment you pay, poor warrior-maiden, For that attempt to battle down the Trojans! It comes to nothing, all the lonely service In woodland thicket, the worship of Diana, The wearing of our arrows on the shoulder. And even so, in the last hour of dying, Your queen has not forsaken you, nor left you Unhonored altogether; through the nations This will be known, your death, and with it, surely, The satisfaction of vengeance. He whose wound Profaned your body will die as he deserves to.” Under the lofty mountain stood the tomb Of an old king, Dercennus of Laurentum, A mound of earth under a holm-oak’s shadow. Here first the lovely goddess, sweeping down From heaven, paused, and from that height watched Arruns, And saw him puffed with pride, exulting vainly, And called:--“Why go so far away? Come nearer! Come to the death you merit; for Camilla Receive the due reward. Shall you die also Under Diana’s weapons?” She drew an arrow Swift from the quiver of gold, drew back the bow Till the curved ends were meeting, and her hands Were even, left at arrow-tip and right Brushing her breast as she let loose the bow-string. And as he heard the twang and the air whirring, He felt the steel strike home. Gasping and moaning, He lay there in the unknown dust; his comrades Forgot, and left him where he lay, and Opis Soared upward to Olympus.