XCVI. "He spake, and nearer through the city came The roar, the crackle and the fiery glow Of conflagration, rolling floods of flame. 'Quick, father, mount my shoulders; let us go. That toil shall never tire me. Come whatso The Fates shall bring us, both alike shall share One common welfare or one common woe. Let young Iulus at my side repair; Keep thou, my wife, aloof, and follow as we fare. XCVII. "'Ye too, my servants, hearken my commands. Outside the city is a mound, where, dear To Ceres once, but now deserted, stands A temple, and an aged cypress near, For ages hallowed with religious fear, There meet we. Father, in thy charge remain Troy's gods; for me, red-handed with the smear Of blood, and fresh from slaughter, 'twere profane To touch them, ere the stream hath cleansed me of the stain.' XCVIII. "So saying, my neck and shoulders I incline, And round them fling a lion's tawny hide, Then lift the load. His little hand in mine, Iulus totters at his father's side; Behind me comes Creusa. On we stride Through shadowy ways; and I who rushing spear And thronging foes but lately had defied, Now fear each sound, each whisper of the air, Trembling for him I lead, and for the charge I bear. XCIX. "And now I neared the gates, and thought my flight Achieved, when suddenly a noise we hear Of trampling feet, and, peering through the night, My father cries, 'Fly, son, the Greeks are near; They come, I see the glint of shield and spear, Fierce foes in front and flashing arms behind.' Then trembling seized me and, amidst my fear, What power I know not, but some power unkind Confused my wandering wits, and robbed me of my mind. C. "For while, the byways following, I left The beaten track, ah! woe and well away! My wife Creusa lost me;--whether reft By Fate, or faint or wandering astray, I know not, nor have seen her since that day, Nor sought, nor missed her, till in Ceres' fane We met at length, and mustered our array. There she alone was wanting of our train, And husband, son and friends all looked for her in vain! CI. "Whom then did I upbraid not, wild with woe, Of gods or men? What sadder sight elsewhere Had Troy, now whelmed in utter wreck, to show? Troy's gods commending to my comrades' care, With old Anchises and my infant heir, I hide them in a winding vale from view, Then, sheathed again in shining arms, prepare Once more to scour the city through and through, Resolved to brave all risks, all ventures to renew.