To the tomb he hies Of old Anchises, and the crowded games.
Back look the Trojans, and with awe-struck eyes See the dark ash-cloud floating through the skies.
And, as his troop Ascanius joyed to lead In mimic fight, so keen, when danger cries, First to the wildered camp he spurs his steed; And breathless guardians fail to stay his headlong speed.
XCII.

"What madness this, poor women ?" he exclaims, "What mean ye now?
No camp of Argive foe, _Your_ hopes ye doom to perish in the flames.
See your Ascanius!"-- At his feet below He flung the helmet, that adorned his brow When mimic fight he marshalled.

Hurrying came AEneas, hurrying came the host; but lo! The shore lies bare; this way and that each dame Slinks to the woods and caves, if aught can hide her shame.
XCIII.

All loathe the daylight and the deed unblest.
Sobered, they know their countrymen at last, And Juno's power is shaken from each breast.
Not so the flames; with gathered strength and fast Onward still swept the unconquerable blast.
Forth puffed between the timbers, drenched in vain, The smoke-jets from the smouldering tow.

Down passed From keel to cabin the devouring bane.
Nor floods nor heroes' strength the mastering flames restrain.
XCIV.