He spoke, but couldn’t stop the spear that rammed Into Euryalus’ ribs and split his white chest. Dying, he thrashed. His lovely limbs and shoulders Poured streams of blood; his neck sank limply down: So, cut off by a plow, a purple flower 435 Faints away into death; so poppies bend Their weary necks when rain weighs down their heads.
One of Vergil's most famous passages, using a nature simile to describe the death of Euryalus.
