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Thus He Flourished (Aeneid 9.42237)

Thus He Flourished (Aeneid 9.42237) Thus He Flourished (Aeneid 9.422–37) VIRGIL “For now, then, you shall pay the price in blood for both my men,” he spoke and drawing his sword approached Euryalus. Beside himself with fear, able to hide in the dark no longer 425 or bear so great a sorrow, Nisus screams: “Me, ME! I’m here! Attack the one who did it, Rutulians! The blame is mine, this man dared nothing nor could he. Sky and knowing stars, bear witness: he only loved his miserable friend too much!” 430 But as he spoke, the sword was driven hard between his ribs and burst through his ivory bosom. Euryalus rolls in death, blood runs down his limbs, his neck goes limp and his head droops down to one shoulder, as when a purple flower, struck by the plough, 435 languishes in death, or when the stems of poppies, tired, throw down their heads, laden with chance rain ... —translated from the original Latin by Colin Pang Literary Imagination, volume 18, number 1, p. 17 doi:10.1093/litimag/imv001 Advance Access published February 2, 2015 The Author 2015. Published by Oxford University Press on behalf of the Association of Literary Scholars, Critics, and Writers. All rights reserved. For permissions please e-mail: journals.permissions@oup.com http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png Literary Imagination Oxford University Press

Thus He Flourished (Aeneid 9.42237)

Virgil,
Literary Imagination , Volume 18 (1) – Mar 2, 2016
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Publisher
Oxford University Press
Copyright
The Author 2015. Published by Oxford University Press on behalf of the Association of Literary Scholars, Critics, and Writers. All rights reserved. For permissions please e-mail: journals.permissions@oup.com
ISSN
1523-9012
eISSN
1752-6566
DOI
10.1093/litimag/imv001
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Abstract

Thus He Flourished (Aeneid 9.422–37) VIRGIL “For now, then, you shall pay the price in blood for both my men,” he spoke and drawing his sword approached Euryalus. Beside himself with fear, able to hide in the dark no longer 425 or bear so great a sorrow, Nisus screams: “Me, ME! I’m here! Attack the one who did it, Rutulians! The blame is mine, this man dared nothing nor could he. Sky and knowing stars, bear witness: he only loved his miserable friend too much!” 430 But as he spoke, the sword was driven hard between his ribs and burst through his ivory bosom. Euryalus rolls in death, blood runs down his limbs, his neck goes limp and his head droops down to one shoulder, as when a purple flower, struck by the plough, 435 languishes in death, or when the stems of poppies, tired, throw down their heads, laden with chance rain ... —translated from the original Latin by Colin Pang Literary Imagination, volume 18, number 1, p. 17 doi:10.1093/litimag/imv001 Advance Access published February 2, 2015 The Author 2015. Published by Oxford University Press on behalf of the Association of Literary Scholars, Critics, and Writers. All rights reserved. For permissions please e-mail: journals.permissions@oup.com

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Literary Imagination – Oxford University Press

Published: Mar 2, 2016

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