"No time, I ween," Euryalus replies, "Shall shame the promise of this bold design, Come weal, come woe.

One boon alone I prize Beyond all gifts.

A mother dear is mine, A mother, sprung from Priam's ancient line.
Troy nor the walls of King Acestes e'er Stayed her from following, when I crossed the brine.
Her of this risk--whate'er the risk I dare-- Weetless, I left behind, nor breathed a parting prayer.
XXXVII.

"Night bear me witness; by thy hand I swear, I cannot bear a parent's tears.

But O! Be thou her solace, comfort her despair; This hope permit, and bolder will I go, To face all hazards and confront the foe." Grief smote the Dardans, and the tears ran down, And young Iulus, pierced with kindred woe, Outweeps them all; in filial love thus shown, Touched to the heart, he traced the likeness of his own.
XXXVIII.