Classic Poem

All Thoughts and Eyes were fix'd upon the Queen;
Chiefly the Volscians : But regardless she,
Nor minds the troubled Air, nor whist'ling Sound
Nor fatal Jav'lin falling from above:
Till under her sear'd Pap the deadly Dart
Stuck fast, and deeply drank her maiden Blood.
Her frighted Maids run to her, and hold up
Their falling Mistress. Aruns swiftly flies
Amaz'd, and finds his Gladness check'd by Fear;
No longer dares he trust his pointed Shafts,
Nor meets the Virgin's Weapons: As a Wolf
That late had slain some Shepherd, or had prey'd
On some large Bullock, conscious of his Guilt,
Hasts to some shel'tring Mountain, e'er his Foes
Can chase him with their Weapons; and draws back
His Tail between his Legs, and seeks the Shades:
Distracted Aruns so from sight withdrew,
Glad to get off, and with the Squadron mix'd.
The Queen with dying Hands would force the Spear;
But far within her Sides the pointed Head
Was lodg'd between her Ribs: All pale she drops;
Death's icy Hand seals up her closing Eyes,
And all the Roses wither on her Face.
Then just expiring, she to Acca calls,
Her best-belov'd Companion, to whose Faith
She us'd to trust her Secrets and her Cares;
And thus bespeaks her: Acca , dearest Friend,
Thus far I have held out, but now I fall
By this dire Wound, and all around is Night.
Haste, and to Turnus bear my last Advice.
Bid him advance, and from the City Walls
The Trojans drive: And now a long Farewel.
She spoke, and dropp'd the Reins, and with Regret
Sunk to the Earth; then by degrees grew cold,
And stretch'd her dying Limbs; her fainting Head
And limber Neck hang down, she quits her Arms,
And in deep Groans breathes out her struggling Soul.