The Aeneid of Virgil, page 99 by Virgil
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yearning to be dead.
LXXXV. So bursting through the inner doors she flew
And, with wild frenzy, climbed the lofty pyre,
Then seized the scabbard he had left, and drew
The sword, ne'er given for an end so dire.
But when, with eyes still wistful with desire,
She viewed the bed that she had known too well,
The Ilian raiment and the chief's attire,
She paused, then musing, while the teardrops fell,
Sank on the fatal couch, and cried a last farewell:
LXXXVI. "Dear relics! loved while Fate and Jove were kind,
Receive this soul, and free me from my woe.
My life is lived; behold, the course assigned
By Fortune now is finished, and I go,
A shade majestic, to the world below,
A glorious city I have built, have seen
My walls, avenged my husband of his foe.
Thrice happy, ah! too happy had I been
Had Dardan ships, alas! not come to bring me teen!"
LXXXVII. She paused, and pressed her lips upon the bed.
"To die--and unavenged? Yea, let me die!
Thus--thus it joys to journey to the dead.
Let yon false Dardan with remorseful eye
Drink in this bale-fire from the deep, and sigh
To bear the omens of my death."--No more
She said, but swooned. The servants see her lie,
Sunk on the sword; they see the life-blood pour,
Reddening her tender hands, the weapon drenched with gore.
LXXXVIII. Then through the lofty palace rose a scream,
And madly Rumour riots, as she flies
Through the shocked town. The very houses seem
To groan, and shrieks, and sobbing and the cries
Of wailing women pierce the vaulted skies.
'Twas e'en as though all Carthage or old Tyre
Were falling, stormed by ruthless enemies,
While over roof and battlement and spire
And temples of the Gods rolled on the infuriate fire.
LXXXIX. Her sister heard, and through the concourse came,
And tore her cheeks and beat her bosom fair,
And called upon the dying Queen by name.
"Sister! was this thy sec