Aeneis
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Original / primary: Perseus Eng2
4.1.1
Now felt the Queen the sharp, slow-gathering pangs
4.1.2
of love; and out of every pulsing vein
4.1.3
nourished the wound and fed its viewless fire.
4.1.4
Her hero's virtues and his lordly line
4.1.5
keep calling to her soul; his words, his glance,
4.1.6
cling to her heart like lingering, barbed steel,
4.1.7
and rest and peace from her vexed body fly.
4.1.8
A new day's dawn with Phoebus' lamp divine
4.1.9
lit up all lands, and from the vaulted heaven
4.1.10
Aurora had dispelled the dark and dew;
4.1.11
when thus unto the ever-answering heart
4.1.12
of her dear sister spoke the stricken Queen:
4.1.13
4.1.13
“Anna, my sister, what disturbing dreams
4.1.14
perplex me and alarm? What guest is this
4.1.15
new-welcomed to our house? How proud his mien!
4.1.16
What dauntless courage and exploits of war!
4.1.17
Sooth, I receive it for no idle tale
4.1.18
that of the gods he sprang. 'T is cowardice
4.1.19
betrays the base-born soul. Ah me! How fate
4.1.20
has smitten him with storms! What dire extremes
4.1.21
of war and horror in his tale he told!
4.1.22
O, were it not immutably resolved
4.1.23
in my fixed heart, that to no shape of man
4.1.24
I would be wed again (since my first love
4.1.25
left me by death abandoned and betrayed);
4.1.26
loathed I not so the marriage torch and train,
4.1.27
I could—who knows?—to this one weakness yield.
4.1.28
Anna, I hide it not! But since the doom
4.1.29
of my ill-starred Sichaeus, when our shrines
4.1.30
were by a brother's murder dabbled o'er,
4.1.31
this man alone has moved me; he alone
4.1.32
has shaken my weak will. I seem to feel
4.1.33
the motions of love's lost, familiar fire.
4.1.34
But may the earth gape open where I tread,
4.1.35
and may almighty Jove with thunder-scourge
4.1.36
hurl me to Erebus' abysmal shade,
4.1.37
to pallid ghosts and midnight fathomless,
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before, O Chastity! I shall offend
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thy holy power, or cast thy bonds away!
4.1.40
He who first mingled his dear life with mine
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took with him all my heart. 'T is his alone —
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o, let it rest beside him in the grave!”
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She spoke: the bursting tears her breast o'erflowed.
4.31.44
“O dearer to thy sister than her life,”
4.31.45
Anna replied, “wouldst thou in sorrow's weed
4.31.46
waste thy long youth alone, nor ever know
4.31.47
sweet babes at thine own breast, nor gifts of love?
4.31.48
Will dust and ashes, or a buried ghost
4.31.49
reck what we do? 'T is true thy grieving heart
4.31.50
was cold to earlier wooers, Libya's now,
4.31.51
and long ago in Tyre. Iarbas knew
4.31.52
thy scorn, and many a prince and captain bred
4.31.53
in Afric's land of glory. Why resist
4.31.54
a love that makes thee glad? Hast thou no care
4.31.55
what alien lands are these where thou dost reign?
4.31.56
Here are Gaetulia's cities and her tribes
4.31.57
unconquered ever; on thy borders rove
4.31.58
Numidia's uncurbed cavalry; here too
4.31.59
lies Syrtis' cruel shore, and regions wide
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of thirsty desert, menaced everywhere
4.31.61
by the wild hordes of Barca. Shall I tell
4.31.62
of Tyre's hostilities, the threats and rage
4.31.63
of our own brother? Friendly gods, I bow,
4.31.64
wafted the Teucrian ships, with Juno's aid,
4.31.65
to these our shores. O sister, what a throne,
4.31.66
and what imperial city shall be thine,
4.31.67
if thus espoused! With Trojan arms allied
4.31.68
how far may not our Punic fame extend
4.31.69
in deeds of power? Call therefore on the gods
4.31.70
to favor thee; and, after omens fair,
4.31.71
give queenly welcome, and contrive excuse
4.31.72
to make him tarry, while yon wintry seas
4.31.73
are loud beneath Orion's stormful star,
4.31.74
and on his battered ships the season frowns.”
4.54.75
So saying, she stirred a passion-burning breast
4.54.76
to Iove more madly still; her words infused
4.54.77
a doubting mind with hope, and bade the blush
4.54.78
of shame begone. First to the shrines they went
4.54.79
and sued for grace; performing sacrifice,
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choosing an offering of unblemished ewes,
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to law-bestowing Ceres, to the god
4.54.82
of light, to sire Lyeus, Iord of wine;
4.54.83
but chiefly unto Juno, patroness
4.54.84
of nuptial vows. There Dido, beauteous Queen
4.54.85
held forth in her right hand the sacred bowl
4.54.86
and poured it full between the lifted horns
4.54.87
of the white heifer; or on temple floors
4.54.88
she strode among the richly laden shrines,
4.54.89
the eyes of gods upon her, worshipping
4.54.90
with many a votive gift; or, peering deep
4.54.91
into the victims' cloven sides, she read
4.54.92
the fate-revealing tokens trembling there.
4.54.93
How blind the hearts of prophets be! Alas!
4.54.94
Of what avail be temples and fond prayers
4.54.95
to change a frenzied mind? Devouring ever,
4.54.96
love's fire burns inward to her bones; she feels
4.54.97
quick in her breast the viewless, voiceless wound.
4.54.98
Ill-fated Dido ranges up and down
4.54.99
the spaces of her city, desperate
4.54.100
her life one flame—like arrow-stricken doe
4.54.101
through Cretan forest rashly wandering,
4.54.102
pierced by a far-off shepherd, who pursues
4.54.103
with shafts, and leaves behind his light-winged steed,
4.54.104
not knowing; while she scours the dark ravines
4.54.105
of Dicte and its woodlands; at her heart
4.54.106
the mortal barb irrevocably clings.
4.54.107
around her city's battlements she guides
4.54.108
aeneas, to make show of Sidon's gold,
4.54.109
and what her realm can boast; full oft her voice
4.54.110
essays to speak and frembling dies away:
4.54.111
or, when the daylight fades, she spreads anew
4.54.112
a royal banquet, and once more will plead
4.54.113
mad that she is, to hear the Trojan sorrow;
4.54.114
and with oblivious ravishment once more
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hangs on his lips who tells; or when her guests
4.54.116
are scattered, and the wan moon's fading horn
4.54.117
bedims its ray, while many a sinking star
4.54.118
invites to slumber, there she weeps alone
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in the deserted hall, and casts her down
4.54.120
on the cold couch he pressed. Her love from far
4.54.121
beholds her vanished hero and receives
4.54.122
his voice upon her ears; or to her breast,
4.54.123
moved by a father's image in his child,
4.54.124
she clasps Ascanius, seeking to deceive
4.54.125
her unblest passion so. Her enterprise
4.54.126
of tower and rampart stops: her martial host
4.54.127
no Ionger she reviews, nor fashions now
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defensive haven and defiant wall;
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but idly all her half-built bastions frown,
4.54.130
and enginery of sieges, high as heaven.
4.90.131
But soon the chosen spouse of Jove perceived
4.90.132
the Queen's infection; and because the voice
4.90.133
of honor to such frenzy spoke not, she,
4.90.134
daughter of Saturn, unto Venus turned
4.90.135
and counselled thus: “How noble is the praise,
4.90.136
how glorious the spoils of victory,
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for thee and for thy boy! Your names should be
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in lasting, vast renown—that by the snare
4.90.139
of two great gods in league one woman fell!
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it 'scapes me not that my protected realms
4.90.141
have ever been thy fear, and the proud halls
4.90.142
of Carthage thy vexation and annoy.
4.90.143
Why further go? Prithee, what useful end
4.90.144
has our long war? Why not from this day forth
4.90.145
perpetual peace and nuptial amity?
4.90.146
Hast thou not worked thy will? Behold and see
4.90.147
how Iove-sick Dido burns, and all her flesh
4.90.148
'The madness feels! So let our common grace
4.90.149
smile on a mingled people! Let her serve
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a Phrygian husband, while thy hands receive
4.90.151
her Tyrian subjects for the bridal dower!”
4.105.152
In answer (reading the dissembler's mind
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which unto Libyan shores were fain to shift
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italia's future throne) thus Venus spoke:
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“'T were mad to spurn such favor, or by choice
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be numbered with thy foes. But can it be
4.105.157
that fortune on thy noble counsel smiles?
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To me Fate shows but dimly whether Jove
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unto the Trojan wanderers ordains
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a common city with the sons of Tyre,
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with mingling blood and sworn, perpetual peace.
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His wife thou art; it is thy rightful due
4.105.163
to plead to know his mind. Go, ask him, then!
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For humbly I obey!” With instant word
4.105.165
Juno the Queen replied: “Leave that to me!
4.105.166
But in what wise our urgent task and grave
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may soon be sped, I will in brief unfold
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to thine attending ear. A royal hunt
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in sylvan shades unhappy Dido gives
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for her Aeneas, when to-morrow's dawn
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uplifts its earliest ray and Titan's beam
4.105.172
shall first unveil the world. But I will pour
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black storm-clouds with a burst of heavy hail
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along their way; and as the huntsmen speed
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to hem the wood with snares, I will arouse
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all heaven with thunder. The attending train
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shall scatter and be veiled in blinding dark,
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while Dido and her hero out of Troy
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to the same cavern fly. My auspices
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I will declare—if thou alike wilt bless;
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and yield her in true wedlock for his bride.
4.105.182
Such shall their spousal be!” To Juno's will
4.105.183
Cythera's Queen inclined assenting brow,
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and laughed such guile to see. Aurora rose,
4.105.185
and left the ocean's rim. The city's gates
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pour forth to greet the morn a gallant train
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of huntsmen, bearing many a woven snare
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and steel-tipped javelin; while to and fro
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run the keen-scented dogs and Libyan squires.
4.105.190
The Queen still keeps her chamber; at her doors
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the Punic lords await; her palfrey, brave
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in gold and purple housing, paws the ground
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and fiercely champs the foam-flecked bridle-rein.
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At last, with numerous escort, forth she shines:
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her Tyrian pall is bordered in bright hues,
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her quiver, gold; her tresses are confined
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only with gold; her robes of purple rare
4.105.198
meet in a golden clasp. To greet her come
4.105.199
the noble Phrygian guests; among them smiles
4.105.200
the boy Iulus; and in fair array
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Aeneas, goodliest of all his train.
4.105.202
In such a guise Apollo (when he leaves
4.105.203
cold Lycian hills and Xanthus' frosty stream
4.105.204
to visit Delos to Latona dear)
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ordains the song, while round his altars cry
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the choirs of many islands, with the pied,
4.105.207
fantastic Agathyrsi; soon the god
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moves o'er the Cynthian steep; his flowing hair
4.105.209
he binds with laurel garland and bright gold;
4.105.210
upon his shining shoulder as he goes
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the arrows ring:—not less uplifted mien
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aeneas wore; from his illustrious brow
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such beauty shone. Soon to the mountains tall
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the cavalcade comes nigh, to pathless haunts
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of woodland creatures; the wild goats are seen,
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from pointed crag descending leap by leap
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down the steep ridges; in the vales below
4.105.218
are routed deer, that scour the spreading plain,
4.105.219
and mass their dust-blown squadrons in wild flight,
4.105.220
far from the mountain's bound. Ascanius
4.105.221
flushed with the sport, spurs on a mettled steed
4.105.222
from vale to vale, and many a flying herd
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his chase outspeeds; but in his heart he prays
4.105.224
among these tame things suddenly to see
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a tusky boar, or, leaping from the hills,
4.105.226
a growling mountain-lion, golden-maned.
4.160.227
Meanwhile low thunders in the distant sky
4.160.228
mutter confusedly; soon bursts in full
4.160.229
the storm-cloud and the hail. The Tyrian troop
4.160.230
is scattered wide; the chivalry of Troy,
4.160.231
with the young heir of Dardan's kingly line,
4.160.232
of Venus sprung, seek shelter where they may,
4.160.233
with sudden terror; down the deep ravines
4.160.234
the swollen torrents roar. In that same hour
4.160.235
Queen Dido and her hero out of Troy
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to the same cavern fly. Old Mother-Earth
4.160.237
and wedlock-keeping Juno gave the sign;
4.160.238
the flash of lightnings on the conscious air
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were torches to the bridal; from the hills
4.160.240
the wailing wood-nymphs sobbed a wedding song.
4.160.241
Such was that day of death, the source and spring
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of many a woe. For Dido took no heed
4.160.243
of honor and good-name; nor did she mean
4.160.244
her loves to hide; but called the lawlessness
4.160.245
a marriage, and with phrases veiled her shame.
4.173.246
Swift through the Libyan cities Rumor sped.
4.173.247
Rumor! What evil can surpass her speed?
4.173.248
In movement she grows mighty, and achieves
4.173.249
strength and dominion as she swifter flies.
4.173.250
small first, because afraid, she soon exalts
4.173.251
her stature skyward, stalking through the lands
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and mantling in the clouds her baleful brow.
4.173.253
The womb of Earth, in anger at high Heaven,
4.173.254
bore her, they say, last of the Titan spawn,
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sister to Coeus and Enceladus.
4.173.256
Feet swift to run and pinions like the wind
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the dreadful monster wears; her carcase huge
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is feathered, and at root of every plume
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a peering eye abides; and, strange to tell,
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an equal number of vociferous tongues,
4.173.261
foul, whispering lips, and ears, that catch at all.
4.173.262
At night she spreads midway 'twixt earth and heaven
4.173.263
her pinions in the darkness, hissing loud,
4.173.264
nor e'er to happy slumber gives her eyes:
4.173.265
but with the morn she takes her watchful throne
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high on the housetops or on lofty towers,
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to terrify the nations. She can cling
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to vile invention and malignant wrong,
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or mingle with her word some tidings true.
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She now with changeful story filled men's ears,
4.173.271
exultant, whether false or true she sung:
4.173.272
how, Trojan-born Aeneas having come,
4.173.273
Dido, the lovely widow, Iooked his way,
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deigning to wed; how all the winter long
4.173.275
they passed in revel and voluptuous ease,
4.173.276
to dalliance given o'er; naught heeding now
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of crown or kingdom—shameless! lust-enslaved!
4.173.278
Such tidings broadcast on the lips of men
4.173.279
the filthy goddess spread; and soon she hied
4.173.280
to King Iarbas, where her hateful song
4.173.281
to newly-swollen wrath his heart inflamed.
4.198.282
Him the god Ammon got by forced embrace
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upon a Libyan nymph; his kingdoms wide
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possessed a hundred ample shrines to Jove,
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a hundred altars whence ascended ever
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the fires of sacrifice, perpetual seats
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for a great god's abode, where flowing blood
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enriched the ground, and on the portals hung
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garlands of every flower. The angered King,
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half-maddened by malignant Rumor's voice,
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unto his favored altars came, and there,
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surrounded by the effluence divine,
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upraised in prayer to Jove his suppliant hands.
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“Almighty Jupiter, to whom each day,
4.198.295
at banquet on the painted couch reclined,
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Numidia pours libation! Do thine eyes
4.198.297
behold us? Or when out of yonder heaven,
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o sire, thou launchest the swift thunderbolt,
4.198.299
is it for naught we fear thee? Do the clouds
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shoot forth blind fire to terrify the soul
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with wild, unmeaning roar? O, Iook upon
4.198.302
that woman, who was homeless in our realm,
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and bargained where to build her paltry town,
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receiving fertile coastland for her farms,
4.198.305
by hospitable grant! She dares disdain
4.198.306
our proffered nuptial vow. She has proclaimed
4.198.307
Aeneas partner of her bed and throne.
4.198.308
And now that Paris, with his eunuch crew,
4.198.309
beneath his chin and fragrant, oozy hair
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ties the soft Lydian bonnet, boasting well
4.198.311
his stolen prize. But we to all these fanes,
4.198.312
though they be thine, a fruitless offering bring,
4.198.313
and feed on empty tales our trust in thee.”
4.219.314
As thus he prayed and to the altars clung,
4.219.315
th' Omnipotent gave ear, and turned his gaze
4.219.316
upon the royal dwelling, where for love
4.219.317
the amorous pair forgot their place and name.
4.219.318
Then thus to Mercury he gave command:
4.219.319
“Haste thee, my son, upon the Zephyrs call,
4.219.320
and take thy winged way! My mandate bear
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unto that prince of Troy who tarries now
4.219.322
in Tyrian Carthage, heedless utterly
4.219.323
of empire Heaven-bestowed. On winged winds
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hasten with my decrees. Not such the man
4.219.325
his beauteous mother promised; not for this
4.219.326
twice did she shield him from the Greeks in arms:
4.219.327
but that he might rule Italy, a land
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pregnant with thrones and echoing with war;
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that he of Teucer's seed a race should sire,
4.219.330
and bring beneath its law the whole wide world.
4.219.331
If such a glory and event supreme
4.219.332
enkindle not his bosom; if such task
4.219.333
to his own honor speak not; can the sire
4.219.334
begrudge Ascanius the heritage
4.219.335
of the proud name of Rome? What plans he now?
4.219.336
What mad hope bids him linger in the lap
4.219.337
of enemies, considering no more
4.219.338
the land Lavinian and Ausonia's sons.
4.219.339
Let him to sea! Be this our final word:
4.219.340
this message let our herald faithful bear.”
4.238.341
He spoke. The god a prompt obedience gave
4.238.342
to his great sire's command. He fastened first
4.238.343
those sandals of bright gold, which carry him
4.238.344
aloft o'er land or sea, with airy wings
4.238.345
that race the fleeting wind; then lifted he
4.238.346
his wand, wherewith he summons from the grave
4.238.347
pale-featured ghosts, or, if he will, consigns
4.238.348
to doleful Tartarus; or by its power
4.238.349
gives slumber or dispels; or quite unseals
4.238.350
the eyelids of the dead: on this relying,
4.238.351
he routs the winds or cleaves th' obscurity
4.238.352
of stormful clouds. Soon from his flight he spied
4.238.353
the summit and the sides precipitous
4.238.354
of stubborn Atlas, whose star-pointing peak
4.238.355
props heaven; of Atlas, whose pine-wreathed brow
4.238.356
is girdled evermore with misty gloom
4.238.357
and lashed of wind and rain; a cloak of snow
4.238.358
melts on his shoulder; from his aged chin
4.238.359
drop rivers, and ensheathed in stiffening ice
4.238.360
glitters his great grim beard. Here first was stayed
4.238.361
the speed of Mercury's well-poising wing;
4.238.362
here making pause, from hence he headlong flung
4.238.363
his body to the sea; in motion like
4.238.364
some sea-bird's, which along the levelled shore
4.238.365
or round tall crags where rove the swarming fish,
4.238.366
flies Iow along the waves: o'er-hovering so
4.238.367
between the earth and skies, Cyllene's god
4.238.368
flew downward from his mother's mountain-sire,
4.238.369
parted the winds and skimmed the sandy merge
4.238.370
of Libya. When first his winged feet
4.238.371
came nigh the clay-built Punic huts, he saw
4.238.372
Aeneas building at a citadel,
4.238.373
and founding walls and towers; at his side
4.238.374
was girt a blade with yellow jaspers starred,
4.238.375
his mantle with the stain of Tyrian shell
4.238.376
flowed purple from his shoulder, broidered fair
4.238.377
by opulent Dido with fine threads of gold,
4.238.378
her gift of love; straightway the god began:
4.238.379
“Dost thou for lofty Carthage toil, to build
4.238.380
foundations strong? Dost thou, a wife's weak thrall,
4.238.381
build her proud city? Hast thou, shameful loss!
4.238.382
Forgot thy kingdom and thy task sublime?
4.238.383
From bright Olympus, I. He who commands
4.238.384
all gods, and by his sovran deity
4.238.385
moves earth and heaven—he it was who bade
4.238.386
me bear on winged winds his high decree.
4.238.387
What plan is thine? By what mad hope dost thou
4.238.388
linger so Iong in lap of Libyan land?
4.238.389
If the proud reward of thy destined way
4.238.390
move not thy heart, if all the arduous toil
4.238.391
to thine own honor speak not, Iook upon
4.238.392
Iulus in his bloom, thy hope and heir
4.238.393
Ascanius. It is his rightful due
4.238.394
in Italy o'er Roman lands to reign.”
4.238.395
After such word Cyllene's winged god
4.238.396
vanished, and e'er his accents died away,
4.238.397
dissolved in air before the mortal's eyes.
4.279.398
Aeneas at the sight stood terror-dumb
4.279.399
with choking voice and horror-rising hair.
4.279.400
He fain would fly at once and get him gone
4.279.401
from that voluptuous land, much wondering
4.279.402
at Heaven's wrathful word. Alas! how stir?
4.279.403
What cunning argument can plead his cause
4.279.404
before th' infuriate Queen? How break such news?
4.279.405
Flashing this way and that, his startled mind
4.279.406
makes many a project and surveys them all.
4.279.407
But, pondering well, his final counsel stopped
4.279.408
at this resolve: he summoned to his side
4.279.409
Mnestheus, Sergestus, and Serestus bold,
4.279.410
and bade them fit the fleet, all silently
4.279.411
gathering the sailors and collecting gear,
4.279.412
but carefully dissembling what emprise
4.279.413
such novel stir intends: himself the while
4.279.414
(Since high-born Dido dreamed not love so fond
4.279.415
could have an end) would seek an audience,
4.279.416
at some indulgent time, and try what shift
4.279.417
such matters may require. With joy they heard,
4.279.418
and wrought, assiduous, at their prince's plan.
4.296.419
But what can cheat true love? The Queen foreknew
4.296.420
his stratagem, and all the coming change
4.296.421
perceived ere it began. Her jealous fear
4.296.422
counted no hour secure. That unclean tongue
4.296.423
of Rumor told her fevered heart the fleet
4.296.424
was fitting forth, and hastening to be gone.
4.296.425
Distractedly she raved, and passion-tossed
4.296.426
roamed through her city, like a Maenad roused
4.296.427
by the wild rout of Bacchus, when are heard
4.296.428
the third year's orgies, and the midnight scream
4.296.429
to cold Cithaeron calls the frenzied crew.
4.296.430
Finding Aeneas, thus her plaint she poured:
4.296.431
“Didst hope to hide it, false one, that such crime
4.296.432
was in thy heart,—to steal without farewell
4.296.433
out of my kingdom? Did our mutual joy
4.296.434
not move thee; nor thine own true promise given
4.296.435
once on a time? Nor Dido, who will die
4.296.436
a death of sorrow? Why compel thy ships
4.296.437
to brave the winter stars? Why off to sea
4.296.438
so fast through stormy skies? O, cruelty!
4.296.439
If Troy still stood, and if thou wert not bound
4.296.440
for alien shore unknown, wouldst steer for Troy
4.296.441
through yonder waste of waves? Is it from me
4.296.442
thou takest flight? O, by these flowing tears,
4.296.443
by thine own plighted word (for nothing more
4.296.444
my weakness left to miserable me),
4.296.445
by our poor marriage of imperfect vow,
4.296.446
if aught to me thou owest, if aught in me
4.296.447
ever have pleased thee—O, be merciful
4.296.448
to my low-fallen fortunes! I implore,
4.296.449
if place be left for prayer, thy purpose change!
4.296.450
Because of thee yon Libyan savages
4.296.451
and nomad chiefs are grown implacable,
4.296.452
and my own Tyrians hate me. Yes, for thee
4.296.453
my chastity was slain and honor fair,
4.296.454
by which alone to glory I aspired,
4.296.455
in former days. To whom dost thou in death
4.296.456
abandon me? my guest!—since but this name
4.296.457
is left me of a husband! Shall I wait
4.296.458
till fell Pygmalion, my brother, raze
4.296.459
my city walls? Or the Gaetulian king,
4.296.460
Iarbas, chain me captive to his car? .
4.296.461
O, if, ere thou hadst fled, I might but bear
4.296.462
some pledge of love to thee, and in these halls
4.296.463
watch some sweet babe Aeneas at his play,
4.296.464
whose face should be the memory of thine own —
4.296.465
I were not so forsaken, Iost, undone!”
4.331.466
She said. But he, obeying Jove's decree,
4.331.467
gazed steadfastly away; and in his heart
4.331.468
with strong repression crushed his cruel pain;
4.331.469
then thus the silence broke: “O Queen, not one
4.331.470
of my unnumbered debts so strongly urged
4.331.471
would I gainsay. Elissa's memory
4.331.472
will be my treasure Iong as memory holds,
4.331.473
or breath of life is mine. Hear my brief plea!
4.331.474
'T was not my hope to hide this flight I take,
4.331.475
as thou hast dreamed. Nay, I did never light
4.331.476
a bridegroom's torch, nor gave I thee the vow
4.331.477
of marriage. Had my destiny decreed,
4.331.478
that I should shape life to my heart's desire,
4.331.479
and at my own will put away the weight
4.331.480
of foil and pain, my place would now be found
4.331.481
in Troy, among the cherished sepulchres
4.331.482
of my own kin, and Priam's mansion proud
4.331.483
were standing still; or these my loyal hands
4.331.484
had rebuilt Ilium for her vanquished sons.
4.331.485
But now to Italy Apollo's power
4.331.486
commands me forth; his Lycian oracles
4.331.487
are loud for Italy. My heart is there,
4.331.488
and there my fatherland. If now the towers
4.331.489
of Carthage and thy Libyan colony
4.331.490
delight thy Tyrian eyes; wilt thou refuse
4.331.491
to Trojan exiles their Ausonian shore?
4.331.492
I too by Fate was driven, not less than thou,
4.331.493
to wander far a foreign throne to find.
4.331.494
Oft when in dewy dark night hides the world,
4.331.495
and flaming stars arise, Anchises' shade
4.331.496
looks on me in my dreams with angered brow.
4.331.497
I think of my Ascanius, and the wrong
4.331.498
to that dear heart, from whom I steal away
4.331.499
Hesperia, his destined home and throne.
4.331.500
But now the winged messenger of Heaven,
4.331.501
sent down by Jove (I swear by thee and me!),
4.331.502
has brought on winged winds his sire's command.
4.331.503
My own eyes with unclouded vision saw
4.331.504
the god within these walls; I have received
4.331.505
with my own ears his word. No more inflame
4.331.506
with lamentation fond thy heart and mine.
4.331.507
'T is not my own free act seeks Italy.”
4.362.508
She with averted eyes and glance that rolled
4.362.509
speechless this way and that, had listened long
4.362.510
to his reply, till thus her rage broke forth:
4.362.511
“No goddess gave thee birth. No Dardanus
4.362.512
begot thy sires. But on its breast of stone
4.362.513
Caucasus bore thee, and the tigresses
4.362.514
of fell Hyrcania to thy baby lip
4.362.515
their udders gave. Why should I longer show
4.362.516
a lying smile? What worse can I endure?
4.362.517
Did my tears draw one sigh? Did he once drop
4.362.518
his stony stare? or did he yield a tear
4.362.519
to my lament, or pity this fond heart?
4.362.520
Why set my wrongs in order? Juno, now,
4.362.521
and Jove, the son of Saturn, heed no more
4.362.522
where justice lies. No trusting heart is safe
4.362.523
in all this world. That waif and castaway
4.362.524
I found in beggary and gave him share—
4.362.525
fool that I was!—in my own royal glory.
4.362.526
His Iost fleet and his sorry crews I steered
4.362.527
from death away. O, how my fevered soul
4.362.528
unceasing raves! Forsooth Apollo speaks!
4.362.529
His Lycian oracles! and sent by Jove
4.362.530
the messenger of Heaven on fleeting air
4.362.531
the ruthless bidding brings! Proud business
4.362.532
for gods, I trow, that such a task disturbs
4.362.533
their still abodes! I hold thee back no more,
4.362.534
nor to thy cunning speeches give the lie.
4.362.535
Begone! Sail on to Italy, thy throne,
4.362.536
through wind and wave! I pray that, if there be
4.362.537
any just gods of power, thou mayest drink down
4.362.538
death on the mid-sea rocks, and often call
4.362.539
with dying gasps on Dido's name—while I
4.362.540
pursue with vengeful fire. When cold death rends
4.362.541
the body from the breath, my ghost shall sit
4.362.542
forever in thy path. Full penalties
4.362.543
thy stubborn heart shall pay. They'll bring me never
4.362.544
in yon deep gulf of death of all thy woe.”
4.362.545
Abrupt her utterance ceased; and sick at heart
4.362.546
she fled the light of day, as if to shrink
4.362.547
from human eyes, and left Aeneas there
4.362.548
irresolute with horror, while his soul
4.362.549
framed many a vain reply. Her swooning shape
4.362.550
her maidens to a marble chamber bore
4.362.551
and on her couch the helpless limbs reposed.
4.393.552
Aeneas, faithful to a task divine,
4.393.553
though yearning sore to remedy and soothe
4.393.554
such misery, and with the timely word
4.393.555
her grief assuage, and though his burdened heart
4.393.556
was weak because of love, while many a groan
4.393.557
rose from his bosom, yet no whit did fail
4.393.558
to do the will of Heaven, but of his fleet
4.393.559
resumed command. The Trojans on the shore
4.393.560
ply well their task and push into the sea
4.393.561
the lofty ships. Now floats the shining keel,
4.393.562
and oars they bring all leafy from the grove,
4.393.563
with oak half-hewn, so hurried was the flight.
4.393.564
Behold them how they haste—from every gate
4.393.565
forth-streaming!—just as when a heap of corn
4.393.566
is thronged with ants, who, knowing winter nigh,
4.393.567
refill their granaries; the long black line
4.393.568
runs o'er the levels, and conveys the spoil
4.393.569
in narrow pathway through the grass; a part
4.393.570
with straining and assiduous shoulder push
4.393.571
the kernels huge; a part array the file,
4.393.572
and whip the laggards on; their busy track
4.393.573
swarms quick and eager with unceasing toil.
4.393.574
O Dido, how thy suffering heart was wrung,
4.393.575
that spectacle to see! What sore lament
4.393.576
was thine, when from the towering citadel
4.393.577
the whole shore seemed alive, the sea itself
4.393.578
in turmoil with loud cries! Relentless Love,
4.393.579
to what mad courses may not mortal hearts
4.393.580
by thee be driven? Again her sorrow flies
4.393.581
to doleful plaint and supplication vain;
4.393.582
again her pride to tyrant Love bows down
4.393.583
lest, though resolved to die, she fail to prove
4.393.584
each hope of living: “O Anna, dost thou see
4.393.585
yon busy shore? From every side they come.
4.393.586
their canvas wooes the winds, and o'er each prow
4.393.587
the merry seamen hang their votive flowers.
4.393.588
Dear sister, since I did forebode this grief,
4.393.589
I shall be strong to bear it. One sole boon
4.393.590
my sorrow asks thee, Anna! Since of thee,
4.393.591
thee only, did that traitor make a friend,
4.393.592
and trusted thee with what he hid so deep —
4.393.593
the feelings of his heart; since thou alone
4.393.594
hast known what way, what hour the man would yield
4.393.595
to soft persuasion—therefore, sister, haste,
4.393.596
and humbly thus implore our haughty foe:
4.393.597
‘I was not with the Greeks what time they swore
4.393.598
at Aulis to cut off the seed of Troy;
4.393.599
I sent no ships to Ilium. Pray, have I
4.393.600
profaned Anchises' tomb, or vexed his shade?’
4.393.601
Why should his ear be deaf and obdurate
4.393.602
to all I say? What haste? May he not make
4.393.603
one last poor offering to her whose love
4.393.604
is only pain? O, bid him but delay
4.393.605
till flight be easy and the winds blow fair.
4.393.606
I plead no more that bygone marriage-vow
4.393.607
by him forsworn, nor ask that he should lose
4.393.608
his beauteous Latium and his realm to be.
4.393.609
Nothing but time I crave! to give repose
4.393.610
and more room to this fever, till my fate
4.393.611
teach a crushed heart to sorrow. I implore
4.393.612
this last grace. (To thy sister's grief be kind!)
4.393.613
I will requite with increase, till I die.”
4.437.614
Such plaints, such prayers, again and yet again,
4.437.615
betwixt the twain the sorrowing sister bore.
4.437.616
But no words move, no lamentations bring
4.437.617
persuasion to his soul; decrees of Fate
4.437.618
oppose, and some wise god obstructs the way
4.437.619
that finds the hero's ear. Oft-times around
4.437.620
the aged strength of some stupendous oak
4.437.621
the rival blasts of wintry Alpine winds
4.437.622
smite with alternate wrath: Ioud is the roar,
4.437.623
and from its rocking top the broken boughs
4.437.624
are strewn along the ground; but to the crag
4.437.625
steadfast it ever clings; far as toward heaven
4.437.626
its giant crest uprears, so deep below
4.437.627
its roots reach down to Tartarus:—not less
4.437.628
the hero by unceasing wail and cry
4.437.629
is smitten sore, and in his mighty heart
4.437.630
has many a pang, while his serene intent
4.437.631
abides unmoved, and tears gush forth in vain.
4.450.632
Then wretched Dido, by her doom appalled,
4.450.633
asks only death. It wearies her to see
4.450.634
the sun in heaven. Yet that she might hold fast
4.450.635
her dread resolve to quit the light of day,
4.450.636
behold, when on an incense-breathing shrine
4.450.637
her offering was laid—O fearful tale!—
4.450.638
the pure libation blackened, and the wine
4.450.639
flowed like polluting gore. She told the sight
4.450.640
to none, not even to her sister's ear.
4.450.641
A second sign was given: for in her house
4.450.642
a marble altar to her husband's shade,
4.450.643
with garlands bright and snowy fleeces dressed,
4.450.644
had fervent worship; here strange cries were heard
4.450.645
as if her dead spouse called while midnight reigned,
4.450.646
and round her towers its inhuman song
4.450.647
the lone owl sang, complaining o'er and o'er
4.450.648
with lamentation and long shriek of woe.
4.450.649
Forgotten oracles by wizards told
4.450.650
whisper old omens dire. In dreams she feels
4.450.651
cruel Aeneas goad her madness on,
4.450.652
and ever seems she, friendless and alone,
4.450.653
some lengthening path to travel, or to seek
4.450.654
her Tyrians through wide wastes of barren lands.
4.450.655
Thus frantic Pentheus flees the stern array
4.450.656
of the Eumenides, and thinks to see
4.450.657
two noonday lights blaze oer his doubled Thebes;
4.450.658
or murdered Agamemnon's haunted son,
4.450.659
Orestes, flees his mother's phantom scourge
4.450.660
of flames and serpents foul, while at his door
4.450.661
avenging horrors wait. Now sorrow-crazed
4.450.662
and by her grief undone, resolved on death,
4.450.663
the manner and the time her secret soul
4.450.664
prepares, and, speaking to her sister sad,
4.450.665
she masks in cheerful calm her fatal will:
4.450.666
“I know a way—O, wish thy sister joy!—
4.450.667
to bring him back to Iove, or set me free.
4.450.668
On Ocean's bound and next the setting sun
4.450.669
lies the last Aethiop land, where Atlas tall
4.450.670
lifts on his shoulder the wide wheel of heaven,
4.450.671
studded with burning stars. From thence is come
4.450.672
a witch, a priestess, a Numidian crone,
4.450.673
who guards the shrine of the Hesperides
4.450.674
and feeds the dragon; she protects the fruit
4.450.675
of that enchanting tree, and scatters there
4.450.676
her slumb'rous poppies mixed with honey-dew.
4.450.677
Her spells and magic promise to set free
4.450.678
what hearts she will, or visit cruel woes
4.450.679
on men afar. She stops the downward flow
4.450.680
of rivers, and turns back the rolling stars;
4.450.681
on midnight ghosts she calls: her vot'ries hear
4.450.682
earth bellowing loud below, while from the hills
4.450.683
the ash-trees travel down. But, sister mine,
4.450.684
thou knowest, and the gods their witness give,
4.450.685
how little mind have I to don the garb
4.450.686
of sorcery. Depart in secret, thou,
4.450.687
and bid them build a lofty funeral pyre
4.450.688
inside our palalce-wall, and heap thereon
4.450.689
the hero's arms, which that blasphemer hung
4.450.690
within my chamber; every relic bring,
4.450.691
and chiefly that ill-omened nuptial bed,
4.450.692
my death and ruin! For I must blot out
4.450.693
all sight and token of this husband vile.
4.450.694
'T is what the witch commands.” She spoke no more,
4.450.695
and pallid was her brow. Yet Anna's mind
4.450.696
knew not what web of death her sister wove
4.450.697
by these strange rites, nor what such frenzy dares;
4.450.698
nor feared she worse than when Sichaeus died,
4.450.699
but tried her forth the errand to fulfil.
4.504.700
Soon as the funeral pyre was builded high
4.504.701
in a sequestered garden, Iooming huge
4.504.702
with boughs of pine and faggots of cleft oak,
4.504.703
the queen herself enwreathed it with sad flowers
4.504.704
and boughs of mournful shade; and crowning all
4.504.705
she laid on nuptial bed the robes and sword
4.504.706
by him abandoned; and stretched out thereon
4.504.707
a mock Aeneas;—but her doom she knew.
4.504.708
Altars were there; and with loose locks unbound
4.504.709
the priestess with a voice of thunder called
4.504.710
three hundred gods, Hell, Chaos, the three shapes
4.504.711
of triple Hecate, the faces three
4.504.712
of virgin Dian. She aspersed a stream
4.504.713
from dark Avernus drawn, she said; soft herbs
4.504.714
were cut by moonlight with a blade of bronze,
4.504.715
oozing black poison-sap; and she had plucked
4.504.716
that philter from the forehead of new foal
4.504.717
before its dam devours. Dido herself,
4.504.718
sprinkling the salt meal, at the altar stands;
4.504.719
one foot unsandalled, and with cincture free,
4.504.720
on all the gods and fate-instructed stars,
4.504.721
foreseeing death, she calls. But if there be
4.504.722
some just and not oblivious power on high,
4.504.723
who heeds when lovers plight unequal vow,
4.504.724
to that god first her supplications rise.
4.522.725
Soon fell the night, and peaceful slumbers breathed
4.522.726
on all earth's weary creatures; the loud seas
4.522.727
and babbling forests entered on repose;
4.522.728
now midway in their heavenly course the stars
4.522.729
wheeled silent on; the outspread lands below
4.522.730
lay voiceless; all the birds of tinted wing,
4.522.731
and flocks that haunt the merge of waters wide
4.522.732
or keep the thorny wold, oblivious lay
4.522.733
beneath the night so still; the stings of care
4.522.734
ceased troubling, and no heart its burden knew.
4.522.735
Not so the Tyrian Queen's deep-grieving soul!
4.522.736
To sleep she could not yield; her eyes and heart
4.522.737
refused the gift of night; her suffering
4.522.738
redoubled, and in full returning tide
4.522.739
her love rebelled, while on wild waves of rage
4.522.740
she drifted to and fro. So, ceasing not
4.522.741
from sorrow, thus she brooded on her wrongs:
4.522.742
“What refuge now? Shall I invite the scorn
4.522.743
of my rejected wooers, or entreat
4.522.744
of some disdainful, nomad blackamoor
4.522.745
to take me to his bed—though many a time
4.522.746
such husbands I made mock of? Shall I sail
4.522.747
on Ilian ships away, and sink to be
4.522.748
the Trojans' humble thrall? Do they rejoice
4.522.749
that once I gave them bread? Lives gratitude
4.522.750
in hearts like theirs for bygone kindnesses?
4.522.751
O, who, if so I stooped, would deign to bear
4.522.752
on yon proud ships the scorned and fallen Queen?
4.522.753
Lost creature! Woe betide thee! Knowest thou not
4.522.754
the perjured children of Laomedon?
4.522.755
What way is left? Should I take flight alone
4.522.756
and join the revelling sailors? Or depart
4.522.757
with Tyrians, the whole attending train
4.522.758
of my own people? Hard the task to force
4.522.759
their hearts from Sidon's towers; how once more
4.522.760
compel to sea, and bid them spread the sail?
4.522.761
Nay, perish! Thou hast earned it. Let the sword
4.522.762
from sorrow save thee! Sister of my blood—
4.522.763
who else but thee,—my own tears borne down,
4.522.764
didst heap disaster on my frantic soul,
4.522.765
and fling me to this foe? Why could I not
4.522.766
pass wedlock by, and live a blameless life
4.522.767
as wild things do, nor taste of passion's pain?
4.522.768
But I broke faith! I cast the vows away
4.522.769
made at Sichaeus' grave.” Such loud lament
4.522.770
burst from her breaking heart with doleful sound.
4.522.771
Meanwhile Aeneas on his lofty ship,
4.522.772
having made ready all, and fixed his mind
4.522.773
to launch away upon brief slumher fell.
4.522.774
But the god came; and in the self-same guise
4.522.775
once more in monitory vision spoke,
4.522.776
all guised as Mercury,—his voice, his hue,
4.522.777
his golden locks, and young limbs strong and fair.
4.522.778
“Hail, goddess-born! Wouldst linger on in sleep
4.522.779
at such an hour? Nor seest thou the snares
4.522.780
that hem thee round? Nor hearest thou the voice
4.522.781
of friendly zephyrs calling? Senseless man!
4.522.782
That woman's breast contrives some treachery
4.522.783
and horrid stroke; for, resolute to die,
4.522.784
she drifts on swollen floods of wrath and scorn.
4.522.785
Wilt thou not fly before the hastening hour
4.522.786
of flight is gone? To-morrow thou wilt see
4.522.787
yon waters thronged with ships, the cruel glare
4.522.788
of fire-brands, and yonder shore all flame,
4.522.789
if but the light of morn again surprise
4.522.790
thee loitering in this land. Away! Away!
4.522.791
Stay not! A mutable and shifting thing
4.522.792
is woman ever.” Such command he spoke,
4.522.793
then melted in the midnight dark away.
4.571.794
Aeneas, by that fleeting vision struck
4.571.795
with an exceeding awe, straightway leaped forth
4.571.796
from slumber's power, and to his followers cried :
4.571.797
“Awake, my men! Away! Each to his place
4.571.798
upon the thwarts! Unfurl at once the sails!
4.571.799
A god from heaven a second time sent down
4.571.800
urges our instant flight and bids us cut
4.571.801
the twisted cords. Whatever be thy name,
4.571.802
behold, we come, O venerated Power!
4.571.803
Again with joy we follow! Let thy grace
4.571.804
assist us as we go! And may thy power
4.571.805
bring none but stars benign across our sky.”
4.571.806
So saying, from its scabbard forth he flashed
4.571.807
the lightning of his sword, with naked blade
4.571.808
striking the hawsers free. Like ardor seized
4.571.809
on all his willing men, who raced and ran;
4.571.810
and, while their galleys shadowed all the sea,
4.571.811
clean from the shore they scudded, with strong strokes
4.571.812
sweeping the purple waves and crested foam.
4.584.813
Aurora's first young beams to earth were pouring
4.584.814
as from Tithonus' saffron bed she sprang;
4.584.815
while from her battlements the wakeful Queen
4.584.816
watched the sky brighten, saw the mated sails
4.584.817
push forth to sea, till all her port and strand
4.584.818
held not an oar or keel. Thrice and four times
4.584.819
she smote her lovely breast with wrathful hand,
4.584.820
and tore her golden hair. “Great Jove,” she cries,
4.584.821
“Shall that departing fugitive make mock
4.584.822
of me, a queen? Will not my men-at-arms
4.584.823
draw sword, give chase, from all my city thronging?
4.584.824
Down from the docks, my ships! Out, out! Begone!
4.584.825
Take fire and sword! Bend to your oars, ye slaves!
4.584.826
What have I said? Where am I? What mad thoughts
4.584.827
delude this ruined mind? Woe unto thee,
4.584.828
thou wretched Dido, now thy impious deeds
4.584.829
strike back upon thee. Wherefore struck they not,
4.584.830
as was most fit, when thou didst fling away
4.584.831
thy sceptre from thy hand? O Iying oaths!
4.584.832
O faith forsworn! of him who brings, they boast,
4.584.833
his father's gods along, and bowed his back
4.584.834
to lift an age-worn sire! Why dared I not
4.584.835
seize on him, rend his body limb from limb,
4.584.836
and hurl him piecemeal on the rolling sea?
4.584.837
Or put his troop of followers to the sword,
4.584.838
ascanius too, and set his flesh before
4.584.839
that father for a feast? Such fearful war
4.584.840
had been of doubtful issue. Be it so!
4.584.841
What fears a woman dying? Would I had
4.584.842
attacked their camp with torches, kindled flame
4.584.843
from ship to ship, until that son and sire,
4.584.844
with that whole tribe, were unto ashes burned
4.584.845
in one huge holocaust—myself its crown!
4.584.846
Great orb of light whose holy beam surveys
4.584.847
all earthly deeds! Great Juno, patroness
4.584.848
of conjugal distress, who knowest all!
4.584.849
Pale Hecate, whose name the witches cry
4.584.850
at midnight crossways! O avenging furies!
4.584.851
O gods that guard Queen Dido's dying breath!
4.584.852
Give ear, and to my guiltless misery
4.584.853
extend your power. Hear me what I pray!
4.584.854
If it be fated that yon creature curst
4.584.855
drift to the shore and happy haven find,
4.584.856
if Father Iove's irrevocable word
4.584.857
such goal decree—there may he be assailed
4.584.858
by peoples fierce and bold. A banished man,
4.584.859
from his Iulus' kisses sundered far,
4.584.860
may his own eyes see miserably slain
4.584.861
his kin and kind, and sue for alien arms.
4.584.862
nor when he basely bows him to receive
4.584.863
terms of unequal peace, shall he be blest
4.584.864
with sceptre or with life; but perish there
4.584.865
before his time, and lie without a grave
4.584.866
upon the barren sand. For this I pray.
4.584.867
This dying word is flowing from my heart
4.584.868
with my spilt blood. And—O ye Tyrians! I
4.584.869
sting with your hatred all his seed and tribe
4.584.870
forevermore. This is the offering
4.584.871
my ashes ask. Betwixt our nations twain,
4.584.872
No Iove! No truce or amity! Arise,
4.584.873
Out of my dust, unknown Avenger, rise!
4.584.874
To harry and lay waste with sword and flame
4.584.875
those Dardan settlers, and to vex them sore,
4.584.876
to-day, to-morrow, and as long as power
4.584.877
is thine to use! My dying curse arrays
4.584.878
shore against shore and the opposing seas
4.584.879
in shock of arms with arms. May living foes
4.584.880
pass down from sire to son insatiate war!”
4.630.881
She said. From point to point her purpose flew,
4.630.882
seeking without delay to quench the flame
4.630.883
of her loathed life. Brief bidding she addressed
4.630.884
to Barce then, Sichaeus' nurse (her own
4.630.885
lay dust and ashes in a lonely grave
4.630.886
beside the Tyrian shore), “Go, nurse, and call
4.630.887
my sister Anna! Bid her quickly bathe
4.630.888
her limbs in living water, and procure
4.630.889
due victims for our expiating fires.
4.630.890
bid her make haste. Go, bind on thy own brow
4.630.891
the sacred fillet. For to Stygian Jove
4.630.892
it is my purpose now to consummate
4.630.893
the sacrifice ordained, ending my woe,
4.630.894
and touch with flame the Trojan's funeral pyre.”
4.630.895
The aged crone to do her bidding ran
4.630.896
with trembling zeal. But Dido (horror-struck
4.630.897
at her own dread design, unstrung with fear,
4.630.898
her bloodshot eyes wide-rolling, and her cheek
4.630.899
twitching and fever-spotted, her cold brow
4.630.900
blanched with approaching death)—sped past the doors
4.630.901
into the palace garden; there she leaped,
4.630.902
a frenzied creature, on the lofty pyre
4.630.903
and drew the Trojan's sword; a gift not asked
4.630.904
for use like this! When now she saw the garb
4.630.905
of Ilian fashion, and the nuptial couch
4.630.906
she knew too well, she lingered yet awhile
4.630.907
for memory and tears, and, falling prone
4.630.908
on that cold bed, outpoured a last farewell:
4.630.909
4.630.909
“Sweet relics! Ever dear when Fate and Heaven
4.630.910
upon me smiled, receive my parting breath,
4.630.911
and from my woe set free! My life is done.
4.630.912
I have accomplished what my lot allowed;
4.630.913
and now my spirit to the world of death
4.630.914
in royal honor goes. The founder I
4.630.915
of yonder noble city, I have seen
4.630.916
walls at my bidding rise. I was avenged
4.630.917
for my slain husband: I chastised the crimes
4.630.918
of our injurious brother. Woe is me!
4.630.919
Blest had I been, beyond deserving blest,
4.630.920
if but the Trojan galleys ne'er had moored
4.630.921
upon my kingdom's bound!”So saying, she pressed
4.630.922
one last kiss on the couch. “Though for my death
4.630.923
no vengeance fall, O, give me death!” she cried.
4.630.924
“O thus! O thus! it is my will to take
4.630.925
the journey to the dark. From yonder sea
4.630.926
may his cold Trojan eyes discern the flames
4.630.927
that make me ashes! Be this cruel death
4.630.928
his omen as he sails!” She spoke no more.
4.630.929
But almost ere she ceased, her maidens all
4.630.930
thronged to obey her cry, and found their Queen
4.630.931
prone fallen on the sword, the reeking steel
4.630.932
still in her bloody hands. Shrill clamor flew
4.630.933
along the lofty halls; wild rumor spread
4.630.934
through the whole smitten city: Ioud lament,
4.630.935
groans and the wail of women echoed on
4.630.936
from roof to roof, and to the dome of air
4.630.937
the noise of mourning rose. Such were the cry
4.630.938
if a besieging host should break the walls
4.630.939
of Carthage or old Tyre, and wrathful flames
4.630.940
o'er towers of kings and worshipped altars roll.
4.630.941
Her sister heard. Half in a swoon, she ran
4.630.942
with trembling steps, where thickest was the throng,
4.630.943
beating her breast, while with a desperate hand
4.630.944
she tore at her own face, and called aloud
4.630.945
4.630.945
upon the dying Queen. “Was it for this
4.630.946
my own true sister used me with such guile?
4.630.947
O, was this horrid deed the dire intent
4.630.948
of altars, Iofty couch, and funeral fires?
4.630.949
What shall I tell for chiefest of my woes?
4.630.950
Lost that I am! Why, though in death, cast off
4.630.951
thy sister from thy heart? Why not invite
4.630.952
one mortal stroke for both, a single sword,
4.630.953
one agony together? But these hands
4.630.954
built up thy pyre; and my voice implored
4.630.955
the blessing of our gods, who granted me
4.630.956
that thou shouldst perish thus—and I not know!
4.630.957
In thy self-slaughter, sister, thou hast slain
4.630.958
myself, thy people, the grave counsellors
4.630.959
of Sidon, and yon city thou didst build
4.630.960
to be thy throne!—Go, fetch me water, there!
4.630.961
That I may bathe those gashes! If there be
4.630.962
one hovering breath that stays, let my fond lips
4.630.963
discover and receive!” So saying, she sprang up
4.630.964
from stair to stair, and, clasping to her breast
4.630.965
her sister's dying form, moaned grievously,
4.630.966
and staunched the dark blood with her garment's fold.
4.630.967
Vainly would Dido lift her sinking eyes,
4.630.968
but backward fell, while at her heart the wound
4.630.969
opened afresh; three times with straining arm
4.630.970
she rose; three times dropped helpless, her dimmed eyes
4.630.971
turned skyward, seeking the sweet light of day, —
4.630.972
which when she saw, she groaned. Great Juno then
4.630.973
looked down in mercy on that lingering pain
4.630.974
and labor to depart: from realms divine
4.630.975
she sent the goddess of the rainbow wing,
4.630.976
Iris, to set the struggling spirit free
4.630.977
and loose its fleshly coil. For since the end
4.630.978
came not by destiny, nor was the doom
4.630.979
of guilty deed, but of a hapless wight
4.630.980
to sudden madness stung, ere ripe to die,
4.630.981
therefore the Queen of Hades had not shorn
4.630.982
the fair tress from her forehead, nor assigned
4.630.983
that soul to Stygian dark. So Iris came
4.630.984
on dewy, saffron pinions down from heaven,
4.630.985
a thousand colors on her radiant way,
4.630.986
from the opposing sun. She stayed her flight
4.630.987
above that pallid brow: “I come with power
4.630.988
to make this gift to Death. I set thee free
4.630.989
from thy frail body's bound.” With her right hand
4.630.990
she cut the tress: then through its every limb
4.630.991
the sinking form grew cold; the vital breath
4.630.992
fled forth, departing on the viewless air.