Forward, then, To die and mingle in the tumult's blare.
Sole hope to vanquished men of safety is despair.' XLVIII.

"Then fury spurred their courage, and behold, As ravening wolves, when darkness hides the day, Stung with mad fire of famine uncontrolled, Prowl from their dens, and leave the whelps to stay, With jaws athirst and gaping for the prey.
So to sure death, amid the darkness there, Where swords, and spears, and foemen bar the way, Into the centre of the town we fare.
Night with her shadowy cone broods o'er the vaulted air.
XLIX.

"Oh, who hath tears to match our grief withal?
What tongue that night of havoc can make known An ancient city totters to her fall, Time-honoured empress and of old renown; And senseless corpses, through the city strown, Choke house and temple.

Nor hath vengeance found None save the Trojans; there the victors groan, And valour fires the vanquished.

All around Wailings, and wild affright and shapes of death abound.
L.