To him Euryalus:--"No day shall shame The rising glories which from this I claim. Fortune may favour, or the skies may frown, But valour, spite of fate, obtains renown. Yet, ere from hence our eager steps depart, One boon I beg, the nearest to my heart: My mother, sprung from Priam's royal line, Like thine ennobled, hardly less divine, Nor Troy nor king Acestes' realms restrain Her feeble age from dangers of the main; 180 Alone she came, all selfish fears above, [vii] A bright example of maternal love. Unknown, the secret enterprise I brave, Lest grief should bend my parent to the grave; From this alone no fond adieus I seek, No fainting mother's lips have press'd my cheek; By gloomy Night and thy right hand I vow, Her parting tears would shake my purpose now: [viii] Do thou, my prince, her failing age sustain, In thee her much-lov'd child may live again; 190 Her dying hours with pious conduct bless, Assist her wants, relieve her fond distress: So dear a hope must all my soul enflame, [ix] To rise in glory, or to fall in fame." Struck with a filial care so deeply felt, In tears at once the Trojan warriors melt; Faster than all, Iulus' eyes o'erflow! Such love was his, and such had been his woe. "All thou hast ask'd, receive," the Prince replied; "Nor this alone, but many a gift beside. 200 To cheer thy mother's years shall be my aim, Creusa's [2] style but wanting to the dame; Fortune an adverse wayward course may run, But bless'd thy mother in so dear a son. Now, by my life!--my Sire's most sacred oath-- To thee I pledge my full, my firmest troth, All the rewards which once to thee were vow'd, [x] If thou should'st fall, on her shall be bestow'd." Thus spoke the weeping Prince, then forth to view A gleaming falchion from the sheath he drew; 210 Lycaon's utmost skill had grac'd the steel, For friends to envy and for foes to feel: A tawny hide, the Moorish lion's spoil, [xi] Slain 'midst the forest in the hunter's toil, Mnestheus to guard the elder youth bestows, [xii] And old Alethes' casque defends his brows; Arm'd, thence they go, while all th' assembl'd train, To aid their cause, implore the gods in vain. [xiii] More than a boy, in wisdom and in grace, Iulus holds amidst the chiefs his place: 220 His prayer he sends; but what can prayers avail, Lost in the murmurs of the sighing gale? [xiv]