flowertea

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"He tumbles into death, the blood flows down
his handsome limbs; his neck, collapsing, leans
against his shoulder: even as a purple
flower, severed by the plow, falls slack in death;
or poppies as, with weary necks, they bow
their heads when weighted down by sudden rain.
But Nisus rushes on among them all;
he is seeking only Volcens, only Volcens
can be the man he wants. The enemy
crowd him; on every side, their ranks would drive
him back, but Nisus presses on unchecked,
whirling his lightning sword until he plunged
it full into Latin's howling mouth
and, dying, took away his foeman's life.
Then, pierced, he cast himself upon his lifeless
friend; there, at last, he found his rest in death."
--Book IX, The Aeneid.