Meantime, Fame spreads her wings and flies with the news through the wildered settlement, and reaches the 30 ears of Euryalus’ mother. At once the vital heat left her wretched frame: the shuttle was dashed from her hands, and the thread ran back. Forth flies the unhappy dame, 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 mother, followed your corpse to the tomb, or closed your eyes, or bathed your wounds, shrouding you with the robe which I worked so hard to finish day and night, and made the loom the medicine of an old wife’s sorrow! Where shall I seek you? what land now contains those 10 severed limbs, that mutilated corpse? is this the sole relic of yourself that you bring back to me, my son? is this what I followed over land and sea? Pierce me, if you have aught of human feeling—shower on me all your darts, ye Rutulians, let the sword make me its first meal; or do 15 thou, great sire of the gods, have mercy, and with thy lightning-bolt strike down to Tartarus this hated life, since I cannot otherwise end the cruel pain of being.” Her wail shook every heart to its centre; a groan of sorrow passed through the ranks; their martial prowess flags 20 and faints. At last, as her agony flames higher, Idæus and Actor, bidden by Ilioneus and the tearful Iulus, lay hold of her, and carry in their arms within.