"Thou," he cries, "Thy blood meanwhile the penalty shall pay For both," and with his falchion bared to slay Springs at Euryalus.

Then, wild with fear, Poor Nisus shouts, in frenzy of dismay, Nor longer in the dark can hide, nor bear A pang of grief so keen--to lose a friend so dear, LV.

"Me--me, behold the doer! mine the deed! Kill me, Rutulians.

By this hand they fell.
He could not--durst not.

By the skies I plead, By yon bright stars, that witnessed what befell, He only loved his hapless friend too well." Vain was his prayer; the weapon, urged amain, Pierced through his ribs and snowy breast.