473Meanwhile winged Rumour, the messenger, flying through the fearful town, rushes along and glides to the ears of Euryalus' mother. 475But at once the warmth left the poor woman's bones; the shuttle was struck from her hands and the skeins unrolled. 477The unhappy woman flies out, and with a woman's wailing, tearing her hair, out of her mind, she runs for the walls and the front ranks, heedless of men, heedless of danger and weapons; 480then she fills the sky with laments: 'Is it you I see like this, Euryalus? 481You, the late comfort of my old age, could you leave me alone, cruel one? 483And when you were sent into such great dangers, was your poor mother given no chance to speak to you for the last time?
485Alas, you lie in an unknown land, given as prey to the Latin dogs and birds; nor did I, your mother, lead out your funeral or close your eyes or wash your wounds, covering you with the robe which I was hurrying on for you night and day, soothing an old woman's cares at the loom. 490Where shall I follow? Or what land now holds your limbs, your severed members and mangled corpse? 491Is this what you bring back to me of yourself, my son? 492Is this what I followed over land and sea? 493Pierce me, if you have any pity, hurl all your weapons at me, Rutulians, destroy me first with the sword: or you, great father of the gods, have pity, and with your bolt thrust down beneath Tartarus this hated head, since I cannot otherwise break off my cruel life.' 498Their hearts were shaken by this weeping, and a sad groan goes through them all: their strength is numbed, broken for battle.
500As she kindles their grief, Idaeus and Actor, at the bidding of Ilioneus and of Iulus, weeping much, seize her and carry her in their arms back indoors.