Ah! happier, had his play Outlived the night, and lasted till the day.
Like some starved lion, that on the teeming fold Springs, mad with hunger, and the feeble prey, All mute with terror, in his clutch doth hold, And rends with bloody mouth, and riots uncontrolled, XLIV.

Such havoc wrought Euryalus, so flamed His fury.

Fadus and Herbesus died, And Abaris, and many a wight unnamed, Caught unaware.

But Rhoetus woke, and tried In fear behind a massive bowl to hide.
Full in the breast, or e'er the wretch upstood, The shining sword-blade to the hilt he plied, Then drew it back death-laden.

Wine and blood Gush out, the dying lips disgorge the crimson flood.
XLV.