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Updated: October 11, 2026
Saces, borne flying on his foaming horse through the thickest of the foe, an arrow-wound right in his face, darts, beseeching Turnus by his name. 'Turnus, in thee is our last safety; pity thy people. Aeneas thunders in arms, and threatens to overthrow and hurl to destruction the high Italian fortress; and already firebrands are flying on our roofs.
"Le vrais Dieux se regarda, Et li a dit qu'e n'i tarda, Icist ne t'atenderont pas, Mais saces, tu m'atenderas."
Be ye kind to me, O gods of the dead, seeing that the gods of heaven hate me. I come down to you a righteous spirit, and not unworthy of my fathers." And even as he spake came Saces, riding on a horse that was covered with foam, and on his face was the wound of an arrow. And he cried, "O Turnus, our last hopes are in thee.