Chapter 25

“What mad expressions did my tongue refuse! Whom did I not, of gods or men, accuse! This was the fatal blow, that pain’d me more Than all I felt from ruin’d Troy before. Stung with my loss, and raving with despair, Abandoning my now forgotten care, Of counsel, comfort, and of hope bereft, My sire, my son, my country gods I left. In shining armour once again I sheathe My limbs, not feeling wounds, nor fearing death. Then headlong to the burning walls I run,…