He only lov'd, too well, his hapless friend: Spare, spare, ye Chiefs! from him your rage remove; His fault was friendship, all his crime was love." He pray'd in vain; the dark assassin's sword Pierced the fair side, the snowy bosom gor'd; Lowly to earth inclines his plume-clad crest, And sanguine torrents mantle o'er his breast: As some young rose whose blossom scents the air, Languid in death, expires beneath the share; 380 Or crimson poppy, sinking with the shower, Declining gently, falls a fading flower; Thus, sweetly drooping, bends his lovely head, And lingering Beauty hovers round the dead. But fiery Nisus stems the battle's tide, Revenge his leader, and Despair his guide; [xxv] Volscens he seeks amidst the gathering host, Volscens must soon appease his comrade's ghost; Steel, flashing, pours on steel, foe crowds on foe; Rage nerves his arm, Fate gleams in every blow; 390 In vain beneath unnumber'd wounds he bleeds, Nor wounds, nor death, distracted Nisus heeds; In viewless circles wheel'd his falchion flies, Nor quits the hero's grasp till Volscens dies; Deep in his throat its end the weapon found, The tyrant's soul fled groaning through the wound. [xxvi] Thus Nisus all his fond affection prov'd-- Dying, revenged the fate of him he lov'd; Then on his bosom sought his wonted place, [xxvii] And death was heavenly, in his friend's embrace! 400 Celestial pair! if aught my verse can claim, Wafted on Time's broad pinion, yours is fame! [xxviii] Ages on ages shall your fate admire, No future day shall see your names expire, While stands the Capitol, immortal dome! And vanquished millions hail their Empress, Rome! [Footnote 1: Lines 1-18 were first published in 'P. on V. Occasions', under the title of "Fragment of a Translation from the 9th Book of Virgil's 'Æneid'."] [Footnote 2: The mother of Iulus, lost on the night when Troy was taken.] [Footnote i: 'Him Ida sent, a hunter, now no more, To combat foes, upon a foreign shore; Near him, the loveliest of the Trojan band, Did fair Euryalus, his comrade, stand; Few are the seasons of his youthful life, As yet a novice in the martial strife: The Gods to him unwonted gifts impart, A female's beatify, with a hero's heart. ['P. on V. Occasions.'] From Ida torn he left his native grove, Through distant climes, and trackless seas to rove.' ['Hours of Idleness.']] [Footnote ii: 'And now combin'd, the massy gate they guard'. ['P. on V. Occasions'.] --they hold the nightly guard'. ['Hours of Idleness'.]] [Footnote iii: And Love, and Life alike the glory spurned. ['MS. Newstead'.]] [Footnote iv: Then Nisus, "Ah, my friend--why thus suspect Thy youthful breast admits of no defect." ['MS. Newstead'.]] [Footnote v: Trembling with diffidence not awed by fear. ['MS. Newstead'.]] [Footnote vi: