The Æneis of Virgil

Books I and IV

Translated by John Dryden



The Trojans, after a seven years' voyage, set sail for Italy, but are overtaken by a dreadful storm, which Æolus raises at Juno's request. The tempest sinks one, and scatters the rest. Neptune drives off the Winds, and calms the sea. Æneas, with his own ship, and six more, arrives safe at an African port. Venus complains to Jupiter of her son's misfortunes. Jupiter comforts her, and sends Mercury to procure him a kind reception among the Carthaginians. Æneas, going out to discover the country, meets his mother, in the shape of a huntress, who conveys him in a cloud to Carthage, where he sees his friends whom he thought lost, and receives a kind entertainment from the queen. Dido, by a device of Venus, begins to have a passion for him, and, after some discourse with him, desires the history of his adventures since the siege of Troy, which is the subject of the two following Books.
1    Arms, and the man I sing, who, forced by Fate,
2    And haughty Juno's unrelenting hate,
3    Expelled and exiled, left the Trojan shore.
4    Long labours, both by sea and land, he bore,
5    And in the doubtful war, before he won
6    The Latian realm, and built the destined town;
7    His banished gods restored to rites divine,
8    And settled sure succession in his line,
9    From whence the race of Alban fathers come,
10    And the long glories of majestic Rome.

11    O Muse! the causes and the crimes relate;
12    What goddess was provoked, and whence her hate;
13    For what offence the queen of heaven began
14    To persecute so brave, so just a man;
15    Involved his anxious life in endless cares,
16    Exposed to wants, and hurried into wars!
17    Can heavenly minds such high resentment show,
18    Or exercise their spite in human woe?

19    Against the Tiber's mouth, but far away,
20    An ancient town was seated on the sea,
21    A Tyrian colony; the people made
22    Stout for the war, and studious of their trade:
23    Carthage the name; beloved by Juno more
24    Than her own Argos, or the Samian shore.
25    Here stood her chariot; here, if heaven were kind,
26    The seat of awful empire she designed.
27    Yet she had heard an ancient rumour fly,
28    (Long cited by the people of the sky),
29    That times to come should see the Trojan race
30    Her Carthage ruin, and her towers deface;
31    Nor thus confined, the yoke of sovereign sway
32    Should on the necks of all the nations lay.
33    She pondered this, and feared it was in fate;
34    Nor could forget the war she waged of late,
35    For conquering Greece against the Trojan state.
36    Besides, long causes working in her mind,
37    And secret seeds of envy, lay behind:
38    Deep graven in her heart, the doom remained
39    Of partial Paris, and her form disdained;
40    The grace bestowed on ravished Ganymed,
41    Electra's glories, and her injured bed.
42    Each was a cause alone; and all combined
43    To kindle vengeance in her haughty mind.
44    For this, far distant from the Latian coast,
45    She drove the remnants of the Trojan host:
46    And seven long years the unhappy wandering train
47    Were tossed by storms, and scattered through the main.
48    Such time, such toil, required the Roman name,
49    Such length of labour for so vast a frame.

50    Now scarce the Trojan fleet, with sails and oars,
51    Had left behind the fair Sicilian shores,
52    Entering with cheerful shouts the watery reign,
53    And ploughing frothy furrows in the main;
54    When, labouring still with endless discontent,
55    The queen of heaven did thus her fury vent:

56    "Then am I vanquished? must I yield?" said she:
57    "And must the Trojans reign in Italy?
58    So Fate will have it; and Jove adds his force;
59    Nor can my power divert their happy course.
60    Could angry Pallas, with revengeful spleen,
61    The Grecian navy burn, and drown the men?
62    She, for the fault of one offending foe,
63    The bolts of Jove himself presumed to throw:
64    With whirlwinds from beneath she tossed the ship,
65    And bare exposed the bosom of the deep:
66    Then, as an eagle gripes the trembling game,
67    The wretch, yet hissing with her father's flame,
68    She strongly seized, and with a burning wound
69    Transfixed, and, naked, on a rock she bound.
70    But I, who walk in awful state above,
71    The majesty of heaven, the sister wife of Jove,
72    For length of years my fruitless force employ
73    Against the thin remains of ruined Troy!
74    What nations now to Juno's power will pray,
75    Or offerings on my slighted altars lay?"

76    Thus raged the goddess; and, with fury fraught,
77    The restless regions of the storms she sought,
78    Where, in a spacious cave of living stone,
79    The tyrant Æolus, from his airy throne,
80    With power imperial curbs the struggling winds,
81    And sounding tempests in dark prisons binds.
82    This way, and that, the impatient captives tend,
83    And, pressing for release, the mountains rend.
84    High in his hall the undaunted monarch stands,
85    And shakes his sceptre, and their rage commands;
86    Which did he not, their unresisted sway
87    Would sweep the world before them in their way;
88    Earth, air, and seas, through empty space would roll,
89    And heaven would fly before the driving soul.
90    In fear of this, the Father of the Gods
91    Confined their fury to those dark abodes,
92    And locked them safe within, oppressed with mountain loads;
93    Imposed a king, with arbitrary sway,
94    To loose their fetters, or their force allay;
95    To whom the suppliant queen her prayers addressed,
96    And thus the tenor of her suit expressed:—
97    "O Æolus! for to thee the king of heaven
98    The power of tempests and of winds has given;
99    Thy force alone their fury can restrain,
100    And smooth the waves, or swell the troubled main—
101    A race of wandering slaves, abhorred by me,
102    With prosperous passage cut the Tuscan sea:
103    To fruitful Italy their course they steer,
104    And, for their vanquished gods, design new temples there.
105    Raise all thy winds; with night involve the skies;
106    Sink or disperse my fatal enemies.
107    Twice seven, the charming daughters of the main,
108    Around my person wait, and bear my train:
109    Succeed my wish, and second my design,
110    The fairest, Deiopeia, shall be thine,
111    And make thee father of a happy line."

112    To this the god:—"'Tis yours, O queen! to will
113    The work, which duty binds me to fulfil.
114    These airy kingdoms, and this wide command,
115    Are all the presents of your bounteous hand:
116    Yours is my sovereign's grace; and, as your guest,
117    I sit with gods at their celestial feast.
118    Raise tempests at your pleasure, or subdue;
119    Dispose of empire, which I hold from you."

120    He said, and hurled against the mountain-side
121    His quivering spear, and all the god applied.
122    The raging winds rush through the hollow wound,
123    And dance aloft in air, and skim along the ground;
124    Then, settling on the sea, the surges sweep,
125    Raise liquid mountains, and disclose the deep.
126    South, East, and West, with mixed confusion roar,
127    And roll the foaming billows to the shore.
128    The cables crack; the sailors' fearful cries
129    Ascend; and sable night involves the skies;
130    And heaven itself is ravished from their eyes.
131    Loud peals of thunder from the poles ensue;
132    Then flashing fires the transient light renew;
133    The face of things a frightful image bears;
134    And present death in various forms appears.
135    Struck with unusual fright, the Trojan chief,
136    With lifted hands and eyes, invokes relief;
137    And "Thrice and four times happy those," he cried,
138    "That under Ilian walls, before their parents, died!
139    Tydides, bravest of the Grecian train!
140    Why could not I by that strong arm be slain,
141    And lie by noble Hector on the plain,
142    Or great Sarpedon, in those bloody fields,
143    Where Simoïs rolls the bodies and the shields
144    Of heroes, whose dismembered hands yet bear
145    The dart aloft, and clench the pointed spear!"

146    Thus while the pious prince his fate bewails,
147    Fierce Boreas drove against his flying sails,
148    And rent the sheets: the raging billows rise,
149    And mount the tossing vessel to the skies:
150    Nor can the shivering oars sustain the blow;
151    The galley gives her side, and turns her prow;
152    While those astern, descending down the steep,
153    Through gaping waves behold the boiling deep.
154    Three ships were hurried by the Southern blast,
155    And on the secret shelves with fury cast.
156    Those hidden rocks the Ausonian sailors knew:
157    They called them Altars, when they rose in view,
158    And showed their spacious backs above the flood.
159    Three more fierce Eurus, in his angry mood,
160    Dashed on the shallows of the moving sand,
161    And in mid ocean left them moored a-land.
162    Orontes' bark, that bore the Lycian crew,
163    (A horrid sight!) even in the hero's view,
164    From stem to stern by waves was overborne:
165    The trembling pilot, from his rudder torn,
166    Was headlong hurled: thrice round the ship was tossed,
167    Then bulged at once, and in the deep was lost;
168    And here and there above the waves were seen
169    Arms, pictures, precious goods, and floating men.
170    The stoutest vessel to the storm gave way,
171    And sucked, through loosened planks, the rushing sea.
172    Ilioneus was her chief: Aletes old,
173    Achates faithful, Abas young and bold,
174    Endured not less: their ships, with gaping seams,
175    Admit the deluge of the briny streams.

176    Mean time imperial Neptune heard the sound
177    Of raging billows breaking on the ground.
178    Displeased, and fearing for his watery reign,
179    He reared his awful head above the main,
180    Serene in majesty; then rolled his eyes
181    Around the space of earth, and seas, and skies.
182    He saw the Trojan fleet dispersed, distressed,
183    By stormy winds and wintry heaven oppressed.
184    Full well the god his sister's envy knew,
185    And what her aims and what her arts pursue.
186    He summoned Eurus and the Western blast,
187    And first an angry glance on both he cast,
188    Then thus rebuked—"Audacious winds! from whence
189    This bold attempt, this rebel insolence?
190    Is it for you to ravage seas and land,
191    Unauthorised by my supreme command?
192    To raise such mountains on the troubled main?
193    Whom I—but first 'tis fit the billows to restrain;
194    And then you shall be taught obedience to my reign.
195    Hence! to your lord my royal mandate bear—
196    The realms of ocean and the fields of air
197    Are mine, not his. By fatal lot to me
198    The liquid empire fell, and trident of the sea.
199    His power to hollow caverns is confined:
200    There let him reign, the jailor of the wind,
201    With hoarse commands his breathing subjects call,
202    And boast and bluster in his empty hall."
203    He spoke—and, while he spoke, he smoothed the sea,
204    Dispelled the darkness, and restored the day.
205    Cymothoë, Triton, and the sea-green train
206    Of beauteous nymphs, the daughters of the main,
207    Clear from the rocks the vessels with their hands:
208    The god himself with ready trident stands,
209    And opes the deep, and spreads the moving sands;
210    Then heaves them off the shoals.—Where'er he guides
211    His finny coursers, and in triumph rides,
212    The waves unruffle, and the sea subsides.
213    As, when in tumults rise the ignoble crowd,
214    Mad are their motions, and their tongues are loud;
215    And stones and brands in rattling volleys fly,
216    And all the rustic arms that fury can supply:
217    If then some grave and pious man appear,
218    They hush their noise, and lend a listening ear:
219    He soothes with sober words their angry mood,
220    And quenches their innate desire of blood:
221    So, when the father of the flood appears,
222    And o'er the seas his sovereign trident rears,
223    Their fury falls: he skims the liquid plains,
224    High on his chariot, and, with loosened reins,
225    Majestic moves along, and awful peace maintains.
226    The weary Trojans ply their shattered oars
227    To nearest land, and make the Libyan shores.

228    Within a long recess there lies a bay:
229    An island shades it from the rolling sea,
230    And forms a port secure for ships to ride:
231    Broke by the jutting land, on either side,
232    In double streams the briny waters glide,
233    Betwixt two rows of rocks: a sylvan scene
234    Appears above, and groves for ever green:
235    A grot is formed beneath, with mossy seats,
236    To rest the Nereïds, and exclude the heats.
237    Down through the crannies of the living walls,
238    The crystal streams descend in murmuring falls.
239    No hawsers need to bind the vessels here,
240    Nor bearded anchors; for no storms they fear.
241    Seven ships within this happy harbour meet,
242    The thin remainders of the scattered fleet.
243    The Trojans, worn with toils, and spent with woes,
244    Leap on the welcome land, and seek their wished repose.

245    First, good Achates, with repeated strokes
246    Of clashing flints, their hidden fire provokes:
247    Short flame succeeds: a bed of withered leaves
248    The dying sparkles in their fall receives:
249    Caught into life, in smoking fumes they rise,
250    And, fed with stronger food, invade the skies.
251    The Trojans, dropping wet, or stand around
252    The cheerful blaze, or lie along the ground.
253    Some dry their corn, infected with the brine,
254    Then grind with marbles, and prepare to dine.
255    Æneas climbs the mountain's airy brow,
256    And takes a prospect of the seas below,
257    If Capys thence, or Antheus, he could spy,
258    Or see the streamers of Caïcus fly.
259    No vessels were in view: but, on the plain,
260    Three beamy stags command a lordly train
261    Of branching heads: the more ignoble throng
262    Attend their stately steps, and slowly graze along.
263    He stood; and, while secure they fed below,
264    He took the quiver and the trusty bow
265    Achates used to bear: the leaders first
266    He laid along, and then the vulgar pierced:
267    Nor ceased his arrows, till the shady plain
268    Seven mighty bodies with their blood distain.
269    For the seven ships he made an equal share,
270    And to the port returned, triumphant from the war.
271    The jars of generous wine (Acestes' gift,
272    When his Trinacrian shores the navy left)
273    He set abroach, and for the feast prepared,
274    In equal portions with the venison shared.
275    Thus, while he dealt it round, the pious chief,
276    With cheerful words, allayed the common grief:—
277    "Endure, and conquer! Jove will soon dispose,
278    To future good, our past and present woes.
279    With me, the rocks of Scylla you have tried;
280    The inhuman Cyclops, and his den defied.
281    What greater ills hereafter can you bear?
282    Resume your courage, and dismiss your care.
283    An hour will come, with pleasure to relate
284    Your sorrows past, as benefits of Fate.
285    Through various hazards and events, we move
286    To Latium, and the realms foredoomed by Jove.
287    Called to the seat (the promise of the skies)
288    Where Trojan kingdoms once again may rise,
289    Endure the hardships of your present state;
290    Live, and reserve yourselves for better fate."

291    These words he spoke, but spoke not from his heart;
292    His outward smiles concealed his inward smart.
293    The jolly crew, unmindful of the past,
294    The quarry share, their plenteous dinner haste.
295    Some strip the skin; some portion out the spoil;
296    The limbs, yet trembling, in the cauldrons boil;
297    Some on the fire the reeking entrails broil.
298    Stretched on the grassy turf, at ease they dine,
299    Restore their strength with meat, and cheer their souls with wine.
300    Their hunger thus appeased, their care attends
301    The doubtful fortune of their absent friends:
302    Alternate hopes and fears their minds possess,
303    Whether to deem them dead, or in distress.
304    Above the rest, Æneas mourns the fate
305    Of brave Orontes, and the uncertain state
306    Of Gyas, Lycus, and of Amycus.—
307    The day, but not their sorrows, ended thus;
308    When, from aloft, almighty Jove surveys
309    Earth, air, and shores, and navigable seas:
310    At length on Libyan realms he fixed his eyes—
311    Whom, pondering thus on human miseries,
312    When Venus saw, she with a lowly look,
313    Not free from tears, her heavenly sire bespoke:—
314    "O king of gods and men! whose awful hand
315    Disperses thunder on the seas and land;
316    Disposes all with absolute command;
317    How could my pious son thy power incense?
318    Or what, alas! is vanished Troy's offence?
319    Our hope of Italy not only lost,
320    On various seas by various tempests tossed,
321    But shut from every shore, and barred from every coast.
322    You promised once, a progeny divine,
323    Of Romans, rising from the Trojan line,
324    In after-times should hold the world in awe,
325    And to the land and ocean give the law.
326    How is your doom reversed, which eased my care
327    When Troy was ruined in that cruel war?
328    Then fates to fates I could oppose: but now,
329    When Fortune still pursues her former blow,
330    What can I hope? What worse can still succeed?
331    What end of labours has your will decreed?
332    Antenor, from the midst of Grecian hosts,
333    Could pass secure, and pierce the Illyrian coasts,
334    Where, rolling down the steep, Timavus raves,
335    And through nine channels disembogues his waves.
336    At length he founded Padua's happy seat,
337    And gave his Trojans a secure retreat;
338    There fixed their arms, and there renewed their name,
339    And there in quiet rules, and crowned with fame.
340    But we, descended from your sacred line,
341    Entitled to your heaven and rites divine,
342    Are banished earth, and, for the wrath of one,
343    Removed from Latium, and the promised throne.
344    Are these our sceptres? these our due rewards?
345    And is it thus that Jove his plighted faith regards?"

346    To whom the Father of the immortal race,
347    Smiling with that serene indulgent face,
348    With which he drives the clouds and clears the skies,
349    First gave a holy kiss; then thus replies:—
350    "Daughter, dismiss thy fears: to thy desire,
351    The fates of thine are fixed, and stand entire.
352    Thou shalt behold thy wished Lavinian walls;
353    And, ripe for heaven, when fate Æneas calls,
354    Then shalt thou bear him up, sublime, to me:
355    No councils have reversed my firm decree.
356    And, lest new fears disturb thy happy state,
357    Know, I have searched the mystic rolls of Fate:
358    Thy son (nor is the appointed season far)
359    In Italy shall wage successful war,
360    Shall tame fierce nations in the bloody field,
361    And sovereign laws impose, and cities build,
362    Till, after every foe subdued, the sun
363    Thrice through the signs his annual race shall run:
364    This is his time prefixed. Ascanius then,
365    Now called Iülus, shall begin his reign.
366    He thirty rolling years the crown shall wear,
367    Then from Lavinium shall the seat transfer,
368    And, with hard labour, Alba-longa build.
369    The throne with his succession shall be filled,
370    Three hundred circuits more: then shall be seen
371    Ilia the fair, a priestess and a queen,
372    Who, full of Mars, in time, with kindly throes,
373    Shall at a birth two goodly boys disclose.
374    The royal babes a tawny wolf shall drain:
375    Then Romulus his grandsire's throne shall gain,
376    Of martial towers the founder shall become,
377    The people Romans call, the city Rome.
378    To them no bounds of empire I assign,
379    Nor term of years to their immortal line.
380    Even haughty Juno, who, with endless broils,
381    Earth, seas, and heaven, and Jove himself, turmoils,
382    At length atoned, her friendly power shall join,
383    To cherish and advance the Trojan line.
384    The subject world shall Rome's dominion own,
385    And, prostrate, shall adore the nation of the gown.
386    An age is ripening in revolving fate,
387    When Troy shall overturn the Grecian state,
388    And sweet revenge her conquering sons shall call,
389    To crush the people that conspired her fall.
390    Then Cæsar from the Julian stock shall rise,
391    Whose empire ocean, and whose fame the skies,
392    Alone shall bound; whom, fraught with eastern spoils,
393    Our heaven, the just reward of human toils,
394    Securely shall repay with rites divine;
395    And incense shall ascend before his sacred shrine.
396    Then dire debate, and impious war, shall cease,
397    And the stern age be softened into peace:
398    Then banished Faith shall once again return,
399    And Vestal fires in hallowed temples burn;
400    And Remus with Quirinus shall sustain
401    The righteous laws, and fraud and force restrain.
402    Janus himself before his fane shall wait,
403    And keep the dreadful issues of his gate,
404    With bolts and iron bars: within remains
405    Imprisoned Fury, bound in brazen chains:
406    High on a trophy raised, of useless arms,
407    He sits, and threats the world with vain alarms."

408    He said, and sent Cyllenius with command
409    To free the ports, and ope the Punic land
410    To Trojan guests; lest, ignorant of fate,
411    The queen might force them from her town and state.
412    Down from the steep of heaven Cyllenius flies,
413    And cleaves with all his wings the yielding skies.
414    Soon on the Libyan shore descends the god,
415    Performs his message, and displays his rod.
416    The surly murmurs of the people cease;
417    And, as the Fates required, they give the peace.
418    The queen herself suspends the rigid laws,
419    The Trojans pities, and protects their cause.

420    Mean time, in shades of night Æneas lies:
421    Care seized his soul, and sleep forsook his eyes.
422    But, when the sun restored the cheerful day,
423    He rose, the coast and country to survey,
424    Anxious and eager to discover more.—
425    It looked a wild uncultivated shore:
426    But, whether humankind, or beasts alone,
427    Possessed the new-found region, was unknown.
428    Beneath a ledge of rocks his fleet he hides:
429    Tall trees surround the mountain's shady sides:
430    The bending brow above a safe retreat provides.
431    Armed with two pointed darts, he leaves his friends,
432    And true Achates on his steps attends.
433    Lo! in the deep recesses of the wood,
434    Before his eyes his goddess mother stood—
435    A huntress in her habit and her mien:
436    Her dress a maid, her air confessed a queen.
437    Bare were her knees, and knots her garments bind;
438    Loose was her hair, and wantoned in the wind;
439    Her hand sustained a bow; her quiver hung behind.
440    She seemed a virgin of the Spartan blood:
441    With such array Harpalyce bestrode
442    Her Thracian courser, and outstripped the rapid flood.
443    "Ho! strangers! have you lately seen," she said,
444    "One of my sisters, like myself arrayed,
445    Who crossed the lawn, or in the forest strayed?
446    A painted quiver at her back she bore;
447    Varied with spots, a lynx's hide she wore;
448    And at full cry pursued the tusky boar."

449    Thus Venus: thus her son replied again:—
450    "None of your sisters have we heard or seen,
451    O virgin! or what other name you bear
452    Above that style:—O more than mortal fair!
453    Your voice and mien celestial birth betray!
454    If, as you seem, the sister of the day,
455    Or one at least of chaste Diana's train,
456    Let not an humble suppliant sue in vain;
457    But tell a stranger, long in tempests tossed,
458    What earth we tread, and who commands the coast?
459    Then on your name shall wretched mortals call,
460    And offered victims at your altars fall."—
461    "I dare not," she replied, "assume the name
462    Of goddess, or celestial honours claim:
463    For Tyrian virgins bows and quivers bear,
464    And purple buskins o'er their ankles wear.
465    Know, gentle youth, in Libyan lands you are—
466    A people rude in peace, and rough in war.
467    The rising city, which from far you see,
468    Is Carthage, and a Tyrian colony.
469    Phoenician Dido rules the growing state,
470    Who fled from Tyre, to shun her brother's hate.
471    Great were her wrongs, her story full of fate;
472    Which I will sum in short. Sichæus, known
473    For wealth, and brother to the Punic throne,
474    Possessed fair Dido's bed; and either heart
475    At once was wounded with an equal dart.
476    Her father gave her, yet a spotless maid;
477    Pygmalion then the Tyrian sceptre swayed—
478    One who contemned divine and human laws.
479    Then strife ensued, and cursed gold the cause.
480    The monarch, blinded with desire of wealth,
481    With steel invades his brother's life by stealth;
482    Before the sacred altar made him bleed,
483    And long from her concealed the cruel deed.
484    Some tale, some new pretence, he daily coined,
485    To soothe his sister, and delude her mind.
486    At length, in dead of night, the ghost appears
487    Of her unhappy lord: the spectre stares,
488    And, with erected eyes, his bloody bosom bares.
489    The cruel altars, and his fate, he tells,
490    And the dire secret of his house reveals,
491    Then warns the widow, with her household gods,
492    To seek a refuge in remote abodes.
493    Last, to support her in so long a way,
494    He shows her where his hidden treasure lay.
495    Admonished thus, and seized with mortal fright,
496    The queen provides companions of her flight:
497    They meet, and all combine to leave the state,
498    Who hate the tyrant, or who fear his hate.
499    They seize a fleet, which ready rigged they find;
500    Nor is Pygmalion's treasure left behind.
501    The vessels, heavy laden, put to sea
502    With prosperous winds; a woman leads the way.
503    I know not, if by stress of weather driven,
504    Or was their fatal course disposed by heaven;
505    At last they landed, where from far your eyes
506    May view the turrets of new Carthage rise;
507    There bought a space of ground, which (Byrsa called,
508    From the bull's hide) they first inclosed, and walled.
509    But whence are you? what country claims your birth?
510    What seek you, strangers, on our Libyan earth?"

511    To whom, with sorrow streaming from his eyes,
512    And deeply sighing, thus her son replies:—
513    "Could you with patience hear, or I relate,
514    O nymph! the tedious annals of our fate,
515    Through such a train of woes if I should run,
516    The day would sooner than the tale be done.
517    From ancient Troy, by force expelled, we came—
518    If you by chance have heard the Trojan name.
519    On various seas by various tempests tossed,
520    At length we landed on your Libyan coast.
521    The good Æneas am I called—a name,
522    While Fortune favoured, not unknown to fame.
523    My household gods, companions of my woes,
524    With pious care I rescued from our foes.
525    To fruitful Italy my course was bent;
526    And from the king of heaven is my descent.
527    With twice ten sail I crossed the Phrygian sea;
528    Fate and my mother goddess led my way.
529    Scarce seven, the thin remainders of my fleet,
530    From storms preserved, within your harbour meet.
531    Myself distressed, an exile, and unknown,
532    Debarred from Europe, and from Asia thrown,
533    In Libyan deserts wander thus alone."

534    His tender parent could no longer bear,
535    But, interposing, sought to soothe his care.
536    "Whoe'er you are—not unbeloved by heaven,
537    Since on our friendly shore your ships are driven—
538    Have courage: to the gods permit the rest,
539    And to the queen expose your just request.
540    Now take this earnest of success, for more:
541    Your scattered fleet is joined upon the shore;
542    The winds are changed, your friends from danger free;
543    Or I renounce my skill in augury.
544    Twelve swans behold in beauteous order move,
545    And stoop with closing pinions from above;
546    Whom late the bird of Jove had driven along,
547    And through the clouds pursued the scattering throng:
548    Now, all united in a goodly team,
549    They skim the ground, and seek the quiet stream.
550    As they, with joy returning, clap their wings,
551    And ride the circuit of the skies in rings;
552    Not otherwise your ships, and every friend,
553    Already hold the port, or with swift sails descend.
554    No more advice is needful; but pursue
555    The path before you, and the town in view."

556    Thus having said, she turned, and made appear
557    Her neck refulgent, and dishevelled hair,
558    Which, flowing from her shoulders, reached the ground,
559    And widely spread ambrosial scents around.
560    In length of train descends her sweeping gown;
561    And, by her graceful walk, the queen of love is known.
562    The prince pursued the parting deity
563    With words like these:—"Ah! whither do you fly?
564    Unkind and cruel! to deceive your son
565    In borrowed shapes, and his embrace to shun;
566    Never to bless my sight, but thus unknown;
567    And still to speak in accents not your own."
568    Against the goddess these complaints he made,
569    But took the path, and her commands obeyed.
570    They march obscure; for Venus kindly shrouds,
571    With mists, their persons, and involves in clouds,
572    That, thus unseen, their passage none might stay,
573    Or force to tell the causes of their way.
574    This part performed, the goddess flies sublime,
575    To visit Paphos, and her native clime;
576    Where garlands, ever green and ever fair,
577    With vows are offered, and with solemn prayer:
578    A hundred altars in her temple smoke;
579    A thousand bleeding hearts her power invoke.

580    They climb the next ascent, and, looking down,
581    Now at a nearer distance view the town.
582    The prince with wonder sees the stately towers,
583    (Which late were huts, and shepherds' homely bowers,
584    The gates and streets; and hears, from every part,
585    The noise and busy concourse of the mart.
586    The toiling Tyrians on each other call,
587    To ply their labour: some extend the wall;
588    Some build the citadel; the brawny throng
589    Or dig, or push unwieldy stones along.
590    Some for their dwellings choose a spot of ground,
591    Which, first designed, with ditches they surround.
592    Some laws ordain; and some attend the choice
593    Of holy senates, and elect by voice.
594    Here some design a mole, while others there
595    Lay deep foundations for a theatre,
596    From marble quarries mighty columns hew,
597    For ornaments of scenes, and future view.
598    Such is their toil, and such their busy pains,
599    As exercise the bees in flowery plains,
600    When winter past, and summer scarce begun,
601    Invites them forth to labour in the sun;
602    Some lead their youth abroad, while some condense
603    Their liquid store, and some in cells dispense;
604    Some at the gate stand ready to receive
605    The golden burden, and their friends relieve;
606    All, with united force, combine to drive
607    The lazy drones from the laborious hive.
608    With envy stung, they view each other's deeds;
609    The fragrant work with diligence proceeds.
610    "Thrice happy you, whose walls already rise!"
611    Æneas said, and viewed, with lifted eyes,
612    Their lofty towers: then entering at the gate,
613    Concealed in clouds (prodigious to relate),
614    He mixed, unmarked, among the busy throng,
615    Borne by the tide, and passed unseen along.
616    Full in the centre of the town there stood,
617    Thick set with trees, a venerable wood:
618    The Tyrians, landing near this holy ground,
619    And digging here, a prosperous omen found:
620    From under earth a courser's head they drew,
621    Their growth and future fortune to foreshew:
622    This fated sign their foundress Juno gave,
623    Of a soil fruitful, and a people brave.
624    Sidonian Dido here with solemn state
625    Did Juno's temple build, and consecrate,
626    Enriched with gifts, and with a golden shrine;
627    But more the goddess made the place divine.
628    On brazen steps the marble threshold rose,
629    And brazen plates the cedar beams inclose:
630    The rafters are with brazen coverings crowned;
631    The lofty doors on brazen hinges sound.
632    What first Æneas in this place beheld,
633    Revived his courage, and his fear expelled.
634    For—while, expecting there the queen, he raised
635    His wondering eyes, and round the temple gazed,
636    Admired the fortune of the rising town,
637    The striving artists, and their art's renown—
638    He saw, in order painted on the wall,
639    Whatever did unhappy Troy befall—
640    The wars that fame around the world had blown,
641    All to the life, and every leader known.
642    There Agamemnon, Priam here, he spies,
643    And fierce Achilles, who both kings defies.
644    He stopped, and weeping said,—"O friend! even here
645    The monuments of Trojan woes appear!
646    Our known disasters fill even foreign lands:
647    See there, where old unhappy Priam stands!
648    Even the mute walls relate the warrior's fame,
649    And Trojan griefs the Tyrians' pity claim."
650    He said (his tears a ready passage find),
651    Devouring what he saw so well designed,
652    And with an empty picture fed his mind:
653    For there he saw the fainting Grecians yield,
654    And here the trembling Trojans quit the field,
655    Pursued by fierce Achilles through the plain,
656    On his high chariot driving o'er the slain.
657    The tents of Rhesus next his grief renew,
658    By their white sails betrayed to nightly view;
659    And wakeful Diomede, whose cruel sword
660    The sentries slew, nor spared their slumbering lord,
661    Then took the fiery steeds, ere yet the food
662    Of Troy they taste, or drink the Xanthian flood.
663    Elsewhere he saw where Troilus defied
664    Achilles, and unequal combat tried;
665    Then, where the boy disarmed, with loosened reins,
666    Was by his horses hurried o'er the plains,
667    Hung by the neck and hair; and, dragged around,
668    The hostile spear yet sticking in his wound,
669    With tracks of blood inscribed the dusty ground.
670    Meantime the Trojan dames, oppressed with woe,
671    To Pallas' fane in long procession go,
672    In hopes to reconcile their heavenly foe.
673    They weep, they beat their breasts, they rend their hair,
674    And rich embroidered vests for presents bear;
675    But the stern goddess stands unmoved with prayer.
676    Thrice round the Trojan walls Achilles drew
677    The corpse of Hector, whom in fight he slew.
678    Here Priam sues; and there, for sums of gold,
679    The lifeless body of his son is sold.
680    So sad an object, and so well expressed,
681    Drew sighs and groans from the grieved hero's breast,
682    To see the figure of his lifeless friend,
683    And his old sire his helpless hands extend.
684    Himself he saw amidst the Grecian train,
685    Mixed in the bloody battle on the plain;
686    And swarthy Memnon in his arms he knew,
687    His pompous ensigns, and his Indian crew.
688    Penthesilea there, with haughty grace,
689    Leads to the wars an Amazonian race:
690    In their right hands a pointed dart they wield;
691    The left, for ward, sustains the lunar shield.
692    Athwart her breast a golden belt she throws,
693    Amidst the press alone provokes a thousand foes,
694    And dares her maiden arms to manly force oppose.

695    Thus while the Trojan prince employs his eyes,
696    Fixed on the walls with wonder and surprise,
697    The beauteous Dido, with a numerous train,
698    And pomp of guards, ascends the sacred fane.
699    Such on Eurotas' banks, or Cynthus' height,
700    Diana seems; and so she charms the sight,
701    When in the dance the graceful goddess leads
702    The choir of nymphs, and overtops their heads.
703    Known by her quiver, and her lofty mien,
704    She walks majestic, and she looks their queen:
705    Latona sees her shine above the rest,
706    And feeds with secret joy her silent breast.
707    Such Dido was; with such becoming state,
708    Amidst the crowd, she walks serenely great.
709    Their labour to her future sway she speeds,
710    And passing with a gracious glance proceeds,
711    Then mounts the throne, high placed before the shrine;
712    In crowds around, the swarming people join.
713    She takes petitions, and dispenses laws,
714    Hears and determines every private cause:
715    Their tasks in equal portions she divides,
716    And, where unequal, there by lot decides.
717    Another way by chance Æneas bends
718    His eyes, and unexpected sees his friends,
719    Antheus, Sergestus grave, Cloanthus strong,
720    And at their backs a mighty Trojan throng,
721    Whom late the tempest on the billows tossed,
722    And widely scattered on another coast.
723    The prince, unseen, surprised with wonder stands,
724    And longs, with joyful haste, to join their hands:
725    But, doubtful of the wished event, he stays,
726    And from the hollow cloud his friends surveys,
727    Impatient till they told their present state,
728    And where they left their ships, and what their fate,
729    And why they came, and what was their request;
730    For these were sent commissioned by the rest,
731    To sue for leave to land their sickly men,
732    And gain admission to the gracious queen.
733    Entering, with cries they filled the holy fane;
734    Then thus, with lowly voice, Ilioneus began:—
735    "O queen! indulged by favour of the gods
736    To found an empire in these new abodes,
737    To build a town, with statutes to restrain
738    The wild inhabitants beneath thy reign—
739    We wretched Trojans, tossed on every shore,
740    From sea to sea, thy clemency implore.
741    Forbid the fires our shipping to deface!
742    Receive the unhappy fugitives to grace,
743    And spare the remnant of a pious race!
744    We come not with design of wasteful prey,
745    To drive the country, force the swains away:
746    Nor such our strength, nor such is our desire;
747    The vanquished dare not to such thoughts aspire.
748    A land there is, Hesperia named of old—
749    The soil is fruitful, and the men are bold—
750    The Oenotrians held it once—by common fame,
751    Now called Italia, from the leader's name.
752    To that sweet region was our voyage bent,
753    When winds, and every warring element,
754    Disturbed our course, and, far from sight of land,
755    Cast our torn vessels on the moving sand:
756    The sea came on; the South, with mighty roar,
757    Dispersed and dashed the rest upon the rocky shore.
758    Those few you see escaped the storm, and fear,
759    Unless you interpose, a shipwreck here.
760    What men, what monsters, what inhuman race,
761    What laws, what barbarous customs of the place,
762    Shut up a desert shore to drowning men,
763    And drive us to the cruel seas again?
764    If our hard fortune no compassion draws,
765    Nor hospitable rights, nor human laws,
766    The gods are just, and will revenge our cause.
767    Æneas was our prince—a juster lord,
768    Or nobler warrior, never drew a sword—
769    Observant of the right, religious of his word.
770    If yet he lives, and draws this vital air,
771    Nor we, his friends, of safety shall despair,
772    Nor you, great queen, these offices repent,
773    Which he will equal, and perhaps prevent.
774    We want not cities, nor Sicilian coasts,
775    Where king Acestes Trojan lineage boasts.
776    Permit our ships a shelter on your shores,
777    Refitted from your woods with planks and oars,
778    That, if our prince be safe, we may renew
779    Our destined course, and Italy pursue.
780    But if, O best of men! the Fates ordain,
781    That thou art swallowed in the Libyan main,
782    And if our young Iülus be no more,
783    Dismiss our navy from your friendly shore,
784    That we to good Acestes may return,
785    And with our friends our common losses mourn."
786    Thus spoke Ilioneus: the Trojan crew
787    With cries and clamours his request renew.
788    The modest queen a while, with downcast eyes,
789    Pondered the speech, then briefly thus replies:—
790    "Trojans! dismiss your fears; my cruel fate,
791    And doubts attending an unsettled state,
792    Force me to guard my coast from foreign foes.
793    Who has not heard the story of your woes,
794    The name and fortune of your native place,
795    The fame and valour of the Phrygian race?
796    We Tyrians are not so devoid of sense,
797    Nor so remote from Phoebus' influence.
798    Whether to Latian shores your course is bent,
799    Or, driven by tempests from your first intent,
800    You seek the good Acestes' government,
801    Your men shall be received, your fleet repaired,
802    And sail, with ships of convoy for your guard:
803    Or, would you stay, and join your friendly powers
804    To raise and to defend the Tyrian towers,
805    My wealth, my city, and myself, are yours.
806    And would to heaven, the storm, you felt, would bring
807    On Carthaginian coasts your wandering king.
808    My people shall, by my command, explore
809    The ports and creeks of every winding shore,
810    And towns, and wilds, and shady woods, in quest
811    Of so renowned and so desired a guest."

812    Raised in his mind the Trojan hero stood,
813    And longed to break from out his ambient cloud;
814    Achates found it, and thus urged his way:—
815    "From whence, O goddess-born, this long delay?
816    What more can you desire, your welcome sure,
817    Your fleet in safety, and your friend secure?
818    One only wants; and him we saw in vain
819    Oppose the storm, and swallowed in the main.
820    Orontes in his fate our forfeit paid;
821    The rest agrees with what your mother said."
822    Scarce had he spoken, when the cloud gave way,
823    The mists flew upward, and dissolved in day.
824    The Trojan chief appeared in open sight,
825    August in visage, and serenely bright.
826    His mother goddess, with her hands divine,
827    Had formed his curling locks, and made his temples shine,
828    And given his rolling eyes a sparkling grace,
829    And breathed a youthful vigour on his face;
830    Like polished ivory, beauteous to behold,
831    Or Parian marble, when enchased in gold;
832    Thus radiant from the circling cloud he broke,
833    And thus with manly modesty he spoke:—
834    "He whom you seek am I; by tempests tossed,
835    And saved from shipwreck on your Libyan coast;
836    Presenting, gracious queen, before your throne,
837    A prince that owes his life to you alone.
838    Fair majesty! the refuge and redress
839    Of those whom Fate pursues, and wants oppress!
840    You, who your pious offices employ
841    To save the reliques of abandoned Troy;
842    Receive the shipwrecked on your friendly shore,
843    With hospitable rites relieve the poor;
844    Associate in your town a wandering train,
845    And strangers in your palace entertain.
846    What thanks can wretched fugitives return,
847    Who, scattered through the world, in exile mourn?
848    The gods, (if gods to goodness are inclined—
849    If acts of mercy touch their heavenly mind),
850    And, more than all the gods, your generous heart,
851    Conscious of worth, requite its own desert!
852    In you this age is happy, and this earth,
853    And parents more than mortal gave you birth.
854    While rolling rivers into seas shall run,
855    And round the space of heaven the radiant sun;
856    While trees the mountain-tops with shades supply,
857    Your honour, name, and praise, shall never die.
858    Whate'er abode my fortune has assigned,
859    Your image shall be present in my mind."
860    Thus having said, he turned with pious haste,
861    And joyful his expecting friends embraced:
862    With his right hand Ilioneus was graced,
863    Serestus with his left; then to his breast
864    Cloanthus and the noble Gyas pressed;
865    And so by turns descended to the rest.

866    The Tyrian queen stood fixed upon his face,
867    Pleased with his motions, ravished with his grace;
868    Admired his fortunes, more admired the man;
869    Then recollected stood, and thus began:—
870    "What fate, O goddess-born! what angry powers
871    Have cast you shipwrecked on our barren shores?
872    Are you the great Æneas, known to fame,
873    Who from celestial seed your lineage claim?
874    The same Æneas, whom fair Venus bore
875    To famed Anchises on the Idæan shore?
876    It calls into my mind, though then a child,
877    When Teucer came, from Salamis exiled,
878    And sought my father's aid, to be restored:
879    My father Belus then with fire and sword
880    Invaded Cyprus, made the region bare,
881    And, conquering, finished the successful war.
882    From him the Trojan siege I understood,
883    The Grecian chiefs, and your illustrious blood.
884    Your foe himself the Dardan valour praised,
885    And his own ancestry from Trojans raised.
886    Enter, my noble guest! and you shall find,
887    If not a costly welcome, yet a kind:
888    For I myself, like you, have been distressed,
889    Till heaven afforded me this place of rest.
890    Like you, an alien in a land unknown,
891    I learn to pity woes so like my own."
892    She said, and to the palace led her guest,
893    Then offered incense, and proclaimed a feast.
894    Nor yet less careful for her absent friends,
895    Twice ten fat oxen to the ships she sends;
896    Besides a hundred boars, a hundred lambs,
897    With bleating cries, attend their milky dams;
898    And jars of generous wine, and spacious bowls,
899    She gives, to cheer the sailors' drooping souls.
900    Now purple hangings clothe the palace walls,
901    And sumptuous feasts are made in splendid halls:
902    On Tyrian carpets, richly wrought, they dine;
903    With loads of massy plate the side-boards shine,
904    And antique vases, all of gold embossed,
905    (The gold itself inferior to the cost
906    Of curious work), where on the sides were seen
907    The fights and figures of illustrious men,
908    From their first founder to the present queen.

909    The good Æneas, whose paternal care
910    Iülus' absence could no longer bear,
911    Dispatched Achates to the ships in haste,
912    To give a glad relation of the past,
913    And, fraught with precious gifts, to bring the boy,
914    Snatched from the ruins of unhappy Troy—
915    A robe of tissue, stiff with golden wire;
916    An upper vest, once Helen's rich attire,
917    From Argos by the famed adultress brought,
918    With golden flowers and winding foliage wrought—
919    Her mother Leda's present, when she came
920    To ruin Troy, and set the world on flame;
921    The sceptre Priam's eldest daughter bore,
922    Her orient necklace, and the crown she wore
923    Of double texture, glorious to behold;
924    One order set with gems, and one with gold.
925    Instructed thus, the wise Achates goes,
926    And, in his diligence, his duty shows.

927    But Venus, anxious for her son's affairs,
928    New counsels tries, and new designs prepares:
929    That Cupid should assume the shape and face
930    Of sweet Ascanius, and the sprightly grace;
931    Should bring the presents, in her nephew's stead,
932    And in Eliza's veins the gentle poison shed:
933    For much she feared the Tyrians, double-tongued,
934    And knew the town to Juno's care belonged.
935    These thoughts by night her golden slumbers broke,
936    And thus, alarmed, to winged Love she spoke:—
937    "My son, my strength, whose mighty power alone
938    Controls the Thunderer on his awful throne,
939    To thee thy much-afflicted mother flies,
940    And on thy succour and thy faith relies.
941    Thou know'st, my son, how Jove's revengeful wife,
942    By force and fraud, attempts thy brother's life;
943    And often hast thou mourned with me his pains.
944    Him Dido now with blandishment detains;
945    But I suspect the town where Juno reigns.
946    For this, 'tis needful to prevent her art,
947    And fire with love the proud Phoenician's heart—
948    A love so violent, so strong, so sure,
949    That neither age can change, nor art can cure.
950    How this may be performed, now take my mind:
951    Ascanius, by his father is designed
952    To come, with presents laden, from the port,
953    To gratify the queen, and gain the court.
954    I mean to plunge the boy in pleasing sleep,
955    And, ravished, in Idalian bowers to keep,
956    Or high Cythera, that the sweet deceit
957    May pass unseen, and none prevent the cheat.
958    Take thou his form and shape. I beg the grace,
959    But only for a night's revolving space,
960    Thyself a boy, assume a boy's dissembled face;
961    That when, amidst the fervour of the feast,
962    The Tyrian hugs and fonds thee on her breast,
963    And with sweet kisses in her arms constrains,
964    Thou may'st infuse thy venom in her veins."
965    The god of love obeys, and sets aside
966    His bow and quiver, and his plumy pride;
967    He walks Iülus in his mother's sight,
968    And in the sweet resemblance takes delight.

969    The goddess then to young Ascanius flies,
970    And in a pleasing slumber seals his eyes:
971    Lulled in her lap, amidst a train of Loves,
972    She gently bears him to her blissful groves,
973    Then with a wreath of myrtle crowns his head,
974    And softly lays him on a flowery bed.
975    Cupid meantime assumed his form and face,
976    Following Achates with a shorter pace,
977    And brought the gifts. The queen already sate
978    Amidst the Trojan lords, in shining state,
979    High on a golden bed: her princely guest
980    Was next her side; in order sate the rest.
981    Then canisters with bread are heaped on high;
982    The attendants water for their hands supply,
983    And, having washed, with silken towels dry.
984    Next fifty handmaids in long order bore
985    The censers, and with fumes the gods adore:
986    Then youths and virgins, twice as many, join
987    To place the dishes, and to serve the wine.
988    The Tyrian train, admitted to the feast,
989    Approach, and on the painted couches rest.
990    All on the Trojan gifts with wonder gaze,
991    But view the beauteous boy with more amaze,
992    His rosy-coloured cheeks, his radiant eyes,
993    His motions, voice, and shape, and all the god's disguise;
994    Nor pass unpraised the vest and veil divine,
995    Which wandering foliage and rich flowers entwine.
996    But, far above the rest, the royal dame,
997    (Already doomed to love's disastrous flame),
998    With eyes insatiate, and tumultuous joy,
999    Beholds the presents, and admires the boy.
1000    The guileful god, about the hero long,
1001    With children's play, and false embraces, hung;
1002    Then sought the queen: she took him to her arms
1003    With greedy pleasure, and devoured his charms.
1004    Unhappy Dido little thought what guest,
1005    How dire a god, she drew so near her breast,
1006    But he, not mindless of his mother's prayer,
1007    Works in the pliant bosom of the fair,
1008    And moulds her heart anew, and blots her former care.
1009    The dead is to the living love resigned;
1010    And all Æneas enters in her mind.

1011    Now, when the rage of hunger was appeased,
1012    The meat removed, and every guest was pleased,
1013    The golden bowls with sparkling wine are crowned,
1014    And through the palace cheerful cries resound.
1015    From gilded roofs depending lamps display
1016    Nocturnal beams, that emulate the day.
1017    A golden bowl, that shone with gems divine,
1018    The queen commanded to be crowned with wine—
1019    The bowl that Belus used, and all the Tyrian line.
1020    Then, silence through the hall proclaimed, she spoke:—
1021    "O hospitable Jove! we thus invoke,
1022    With solemn rites, thy sacred name and power;
1023    Bless to both nations this auspicious hour!
1024    So may the Trojan and the Tyrian line
1025    In lasting concord from this day combine.
1026    Thou, Bacchus, god of joys and friendly cheer,
1027    And gracious Juno, both be present here!
1028    And you, my lords of Tyre, your vows address
1029    To heaven with mine, to ratify the peace."
1030    The goblet then she took, with nectar crowned
1031    (Sprinkling the first libations on the ground),
1032    And raised it to her mouth with sober grace,
1033    Then, sipping, offered to the next in place.
1034    'Twas Bitias whom she called—a thirsty soul;
1035    He took the challenge, and embraced the bowl,
1036    With pleasure swilled the gold, nor ceased to draw,
1037    Till he the bottom of the brimmer saw.
1038    The goblet goes around: Iöpas brought
1039    His golden lyre, and sung what ancient Atlas taught—
1040    The various labours of the wandering moon,
1041    And whence proceed the eclipses of the sun;
1042    The original of men and beasts; and whence
1043    The rains arise, and fires their warmth dispense,
1044    And fixed and erring stars dispose their influence;
1045    What shakes the solid earth; what cause delays
1046    The summer nights, and shortens winter days.
1047    With peals of shouts the Tyrians praise the song;
1048    Those peals are echoed by the Trojan throng.
1049    The unhappy queen with talk prolonged the night,
1050    And drank large draughts of love with vast delight;
1051    Of Priam much inquired, of Hector more;
1052    Then asked what arms the swarthy Memnon wore,
1053    What troops he landed on the Trojan shore;
1054    The steeds of Diomede varied the discourse,
1055    And fierce Achilles, with his matchless force;
1056    At length, as Fate and her ill stars required,
1057    To hear the series of the war desired.
1058    "Relate at large, my god-like guest," she said,
1059    "The Grecian stratagems, the town betrayed:
1060    The fatal issue of so long a war,
1061    Your flight, your wanderings, and your woes, declare;
1062    For, since on every sea, on every coast,
1063    Your men have been distressed, your navy tossed,
1064    Seven times the sun has either tropic viewed,
1065    The winter banished, and the spring renewed."



Dido discovers to her sister her passion for Æneas, and her thoughts of marrying him. She prepares a hunting-match for his entertainment. Juno, by Venus's consent, raises a storm, which separates the hunters, and drives Æneas and Dido into the same cave, where their marriage is supposed to be completed. Jupiter dispatches Mercury to Æneas, to warn him from Carthage. Æneas secretly prepares for his voyage. Dido finds out his design, and, to put a stop to it, makes use of her own and her sister's entreaties, and discovers all the variety of passions that are incident to a neglected lover. When nothing would prevail upon him, she contrives her own death, with which this book concludes.
1    But anxious cares already seized the queen;
2    She fed within her veins a flame unseen;
3    The hero's valour, acts, and birth, inspire
4    Her soul with love, and fan the secret fire.
5    His words, his looks, imprinted in her heart,
6    Improve the passion, and increase the smart.
7    Now, when the purple morn had chased away
8    The dewy shadows, and restored the day,
9    Her sister first with early care she sought,
10    And thus in mournful accents eased her thought:—
11    "My dearest Anna! what new dreams affright
12    My labouring soul! what visions of the night
13    Disturb my quiet, and distract my breast
14    With strange ideas of our Trojan guest!
15    His worth, his actions, and majestic air,
16    A man descended from the gods declare.
17    Fear ever argues a degenerate kind;
18    His birth is well asserted by his mind.
19    Then, what he suffered, when by Fate betrayed!
20    What brave attempts for falling Troy he made!
21    Such were his looks, so gracefully he spoke,
22    That, were I not resolved against the yoke
23    Of hapless marriage—never to be cursed
24    With second love, so fatal was my first—
25    To this one error I might yield again;
26    For, since Sichæus was untimely slain,
27    This only man is able to subvert
28    The fixed foundations of my stubborn heart.
29    And, to confess my frailty, to my shame,
30    Somewhat I find within, if not the same,
31    Too like the sparkles of my former flame.
32    But first let yawning earth a passage rend,
33    And let me through the dark abyss descend—
34    First let avenging Jove, with flames from high,
35    Drive down this body to the nether sky,
36    Condemned with ghosts in endless night to lie—
37    Before I break the plighted faith I gave!
38    No! he who had my vows shall ever have;
39    For, whom I loved on earth, I worship in the grave."

40    She said: the tears ran gushing from her eyes,
41    And stopped her speech. Her sister thus replies:—
42    "O dearer than the vital air I breathe!
43    Will you to grief your blooming years bequeathe,
44    Condemned to waste in woes your lonely life,
45    Without the joys of mother, or of wife?
46    Think you these tears, this pompous train of woe,
47    Are known or valued by the ghosts below?
48    I grant, that, while your sorrows yet were green,
49    It well became a woman, and a queen,
50    The vows of Tyrian Princes to neglect,
51    To scorn Iarbas, and his love reject,
52    With all the Libyan lords of mighty name;
53    But will you fight against a pleasing flame?
54    This little spot of land, which heaven bestows,
55    On every side is hemmed with warlike foes;
56    Gætulian cities here are spread around,
57    And fierce Numidians there your frontiers bound;
58    Here lies a barren waste of thirsty land,
59    And there the Syrtes raise the moving sand;
60    Barcæan troops besiege the narrow shore,
61    And from the sea Pygmalion threatens more.
62    Propitious heaven, and gracious Juno, led
63    This wandering navy to your needful aid:
64    How will your empire spread, your city rise,
65    From such a union, and with such allies!
66    Implore the favour of the powers above,
67    And leave the conduct of the rest to love.
68    Continue still your hospitable way,
69    And still invent occasions of their stay,
70    Till storms and winter winds shall cease to threat,
71    And planks and oars repair their shattered fleet."

72    These words, which from a friend and sister came,
73    With ease resolved the scruples of her fame,
74    And added fury to the kindled flame.
75    Inspired with hope, the project they pursue;
76    On every altar sacrifice renew;
77    A chosen ewe of two years old they pay
78    To Ceres, Bacchus, and the god of day.
79    Preferring Juno's power (for Juno ties
80    The nuptial knot, and makes the marriage-joys),
81    The beauteous queen before her altar stands,
82    And holds the golden goblet in her hands.
83    A milk-white heifer she with flowers adorns,
84    And pours the ruddy wine betwixt her horns;
85    And, while the priests with prayer the gods invoke,
86    She feeds their altars with Sabæan smoke,
87    With hourly care the sacrifice renews,
88    And anxiously the panting entrails views.
89    What priestly rites, alas! what pious art,
90    What vows, avail to cure a bleeding heart?
91    A gentle fire she feeds within her veins,
92    Where the soft god secure in silence reigns.

93    Sick with desire, and seeking him she loves,
94    From street to street the raving Dido roves.
95    So, when the watchful shepherd, from the blind,
96    Wounds with a random shaft the careless hind,
97    Distracted with her pain she flies the woods,
98    Bounds o'er the lawn, and seeks the silent floods—
99    With fruitless care; for still the fatal dart
100    Sticks in her side, and rankles in her heart.
101    And now she leads the Trojan chief along
102    The lofty walls, amidst the busy throng;
103    Displays her Tyrian wealth, and rising town,
104    Which love, without his labour, makes his own.
105    This pomp she shows, to tempt her wandering guest;
106    Her faltering tongue forbids to speak the rest.
107    When day declines, and feasts renew the night,
108    Still on his face she feeds her famished sight;
109    She longs again to hear the prince relate
110    His own adventures, and the Trojan fate.
111    He tells it o'er and o'er; but still in vain,
112    For still she begs to hear it once again.
113    The hearer on the speaker's mouth depends,
114    And thus the tragic story never ends.

115    Then, when they part, when Phoebe's paler light
116    Withdraws, and falling stars to sleep invite,
117    She last remains, when every guest is gone,
118    Sits on the bed he pressed, and sighs alone;
119    Absent, her absent hero sees and hears;
120    Or in her bosom young Ascanius bears,
121    And seeks the father's image in the child,
122    If love by likeness might be so beguiled.

123    Meantime the rising towers are at a stand;
124    No labours exercise the youthful band,
125    Nor use of arts, nor toils of arms they know;
126    The mole is left unfinished to the foe;
127    The mounds, the works, the walls, neglected lie,
128    Short of their promised height, that seemed to threat the sky.

129    But when imperial Juno, from above,
130    Saw Dido fettered in the chains of love,
131    Hot with the venom which her veins inflamed,
132    And by no sense of shame to be reclaimed,
133    With soothing words to Venus she begun:—
134    "High praises, endless honours, you have won,
135    And mighty trophies, with your worthy son!
136    Two gods a silly woman have undone!
137    Nor am I ignorant, you both suspect
138    This rising city, which my hands erect:
139    But shall celestial discord never cease?
140    'Tis better ended in a lasting peace.
141    You stand possessed of all your soul desired;
142    Poor Dido with consuming love is fired.
143    Your Trojan with my Tyrian let us join;
144    So Dido shall be yours, Æneas mine—
145    One common kingdom, one united line.
146    Eliza shall a Dardan lord obey,
147    And lofty Carthage for a dower convey."
148    Then Venus (who her hidden fraud descried,
149    Which would the sceptre of the world misguide
150    To Libyan shores) thus artfully replied:—
151    "Who, but a fool, would wars with Juno choose,
152    And such alliance and such gifts refuse,
153    If Fortune with our joint desires comply?
154    The doubt is all from Jove, and destiny;
155    Lest he forbid, with absolute command,
156    To mix the people in one common land—
157    Or will the Trojan and the Tyrian line,
158    In lasting leagues and sure succession, join.
159    But you, the partner of his bed and throne,
160    May move his mind; my wishes are your own."
161    "Mine," said imperial Juno, "be the care:—
162    Time urges now:—to perfect this affair,
163    Attend my counsel, and the secret share.
164    When next the Sun his rising light displays,
165    And gilds the world below with purple rays,
166    The queen, Æneas, and the Tyrian court,
167    Shall to the shady woods, for sylvan game, resort.
168    There, while the huntsmen pitch their toils around,
169    And cheerful horns, from side to side, resound,
170    A pitchy cloud shall cover all the plain
171    With hail, and thunder, and tempestuous rain;
172    The fearful train shall take their speedy flight,
173    Dispersed, and all involved in gloomy night;
174    One cave a grateful shelter shall afford
175    To the fair princess and the Trojan lord.
176    I will myself the bridal bed prepare,
177    If you, to bless the nuptials, will be there:
178    So shall their loves be crowned with due delights,
179    And Hymen shall be present at the rites."
180    The queen of love consents, and closely smiles
181    At her vain project, and discovered wiles.

182    The rosy morn was risen from the main,
183    And horns and hounds awake the princely train:
184    They issue early through the city gate,
185    Where the more wakeful huntsmen ready wait,
186    With nets, and toils, and darts, beside the force
187    Of Spartan dogs, and swift Massylian horse.
188    The Tyrian peers and officers of state,
189    For the slow queen, in antechambers wait;
190    Her lofty courser, in the court below,
191    Who his majestic rider seems to know,
192    Proud of his purple trappings, paws the ground,
193    And champs the golden bit, and spreads the foam around.
194    The queen at length appears: on either hand,
195    The brawny guards in martial order stand.
196    A flowered cymar with golden fringe she wore,
197    And at her back a golden quiver bore;
198    Her flowing hair a golden caul restrains,
199    A golden clasp the Tyrian robe sustains.
200    Then young Ascanius, with a sprightly grace,
201    Leads on the Trojan youth to view the chase.
202    But far above the rest in beauty shines
203    The great Æneas, when the troop he joins;
204    Like fair Apollo, when he leaves the frost
205    Of wintery Xanthus, and the Lycian coast,
206    When to his native Delos he resorts,
207    Ordains the dances, and renews the sports;
208    Where painted Scythians, mixed with Cretan bands,
209    Before the joyful altars join their hands:
210    Himself, on Cynthus walking, sees below
211    The merry madness of the sacred show.
212    Green wreaths of bays his length of hair inclose;
213    A golden fillet binds his awful brows;
214    His quiver sounds.—Not less the prince is seen
215    In manly presence, or in lofty mien.

216    Now had they reached the hills, and stormed the seat
217    Of savage beasts, in dens, their last retreat.
218    The cry pursues the mountain-goats: they bound
219    From rock to rock, and keep the craggy ground:
220    Quite otherwise the stags, a trembling train,
221    In herds unsingled, scour the dusty plain,
222    And a long chase, in open view, maintain.
223    The glad Ascanius, as his courser guides,
224    Spurs through the vale, and these and those outrides.
225    His horse's flanks and sides are forced to feel
226    The clanking lash, and goring of the steel.
227    Impatiently he views the feeble prey,
228    Wishing some nobler beast to cross his way,
229    And rather would the tusky boar attend,
230    Or see the tawny lion downward bend.

231    Meantime, the gathering clouds obscure the skies:
232    From pole to pole the forky lightning flies;
233    The rattling thunders roll; and Juno pours
234    A wintry deluge down, and sounding showers.
235    The company, dispersed, to coverts ride,
236    And seek the homely cots, or mountain's hollow side.
237    The rapid rains, descending from the hills,
238    To rolling torrents raise the creeping rills.
239    The queen and prince, as Love or Fortune guides,
240    One common cavern in her bosom hides.
241    Then first the trembling earth the signal gave,
242    And flashing fires enlighten all the cave;
243    Hell from below, and Juno from above,
244    And howling nymphs, were conscious to their love.
245    From this ill-omen'd hour, in time arose
246    Debate and death, and all succeeding woes,
247    The queen, whom sense of honour could not move,
248    No longer made a secret of her love,
249    But called it marriage, by that specious name
250    To veil the crime, and sanctify the shame.

251    The loud report through Libyan cities goes.
252    Fame, the great ill, from small beginnings grows—
253    Swift from the first; and every moment brings
254    New vigour to her flights, new pinions to her wings.
255    Soon grows the pigmy to gigantic size;
256    Her feet on earth, her forehead in the skies.
257    Enraged against the gods, revengeful Earth
258    Produced her, last of the Titanian birth—
259    Swift is her walk, more swift her winged haste—
260    A monstrous phantom, horrible and vast.
261    As many plumes as raise her lofty flight,
262    So many piercing eyes enlarge her sight;
263    Millions of opening mouths to Fame belong,
264    And every mouth is furnished with a tongue,
265    And round with listening ears the flying plague is hung.
266    She fills the peaceful universe with cries;
267    No slumbers ever close her wakeful eyes;
268    By day, from lofty towers her head she shews,
269    And spreads through trembling crowds disastrous news;
270    With court informers haunts, and royal spies;
271    Things done relates, not done she feigns, and mingles truth with lies.
272    Talk is her business; and her chief delight
273    To tell of prodigies, and cause affright.
274    She fills the people's ears with Dido's name,
275    Who, "lost to honour and the sense of shame,
276    Admits into her throne and nuptial bed
277    A wandering guest, who from his country fled:
278    Whole days with him she passes in delights,
279    And wastes in luxury long winter nights,
280    Forgetful of her fame, and royal trust,
281    Dissolved in ease, abandoned to her lust."

282    The goddess widely spreads the loud report,
283    And flies at length to king Iarbas' court.
284    When first possessed with this unwelcome news,
285    Whom did he not of men and gods accuse?
286    This prince, from ravished Garamantis born,
287    A hundred temples did with spoils adorn,
288    In Ammon's honour, his celestial sire;
289    A hundred altars fed with wakeful fire;
290    And, through his vast dominions, priests ordained,
291    Whose watchful care these holy rites maintained.
292    The gates and columns were with garlands crowned,
293    And blood of victim beasts enriched the ground.

294    He, when he heard a fugitive could move
295    The Tyrian princess, who disdained his love,
296    His breast with fury burned, his eyes with fire,
297    Mad with despair, impatient with desire;
298    Then on the sacred altars pouring wine,
299    He thus with prayers implored his sire divine:—
300    "Great Jove, propitious to the Moorish race,
301    Who feast on painted beds, with offerings grace
302    Thy temples, and adore thy power divine
303    With blood of victims, and with sparkling wine!
304    Seest thou not this? or do we fear in vain
305    Thy boasted thunder, and thy thoughtless reign?
306    Do thy broad hands the forky lightnings lance?
307    Thine are the bolts, or the blind work of chance?
308    A wandering woman builds, within our state,
309    A little town, bought at an easy rate;
310    She pays me homage (and my grants allow
311    A narrow space of Libyan lands to plough);
312    Yet, scorning me, by passion blindly led,
313    Admits a banished Trojan to her bed!
314    And now this other Paris, with his train
315    Of conquered cowards, must in Afric reign!
316    (Whom, what they are, their looks and garb confess,
317    Their locks with oil perfumed, their Lydian dress.)
318    He takes the spoil, enjoys the princely dame;
319    And I, rejected I, adore an empty name!"

320    His vows, in haughty terms, he thus preferred,
321    And held his altar's horns. The mighty Thunderer heard,
322    Then cast his eyes on Carthage, where he found
323    The lustful pair in lawless pleasure drowned,
324    Lost in their loves, insensible of shame,
325    And both forgetful of their better fame.
326    He calls Cyllenius, and the god attends,
327    By whom this menacing command he sends:—
328    "Go, mount the western winds, and cleave the sky;
329    Then, with a swift descent, to Carthage fly:
330    There find the Trojan chief, who wastes his days
331    In slothful riot and inglorious ease,
332    Nor minds the future city, given by Fate.
333    To him this message from my mouth relate:—
334    Not so fair Venus hoped, when twice she won
335    Thy life with prayers, nor promised such a son.
336    Hers was a hero, destined to command
337    A martial race, and rule the Latian land;
338    Who should his ancient line from Teucer draw,
339    And on the conquered world impose the law.
340    If glory cannot move a mind so mean,
341    Nor future praise from fading pleasure wean,
342    Yet why should he defraud his son of fame,
343    And grudge the Romans their immortal name?
344    What are his vain designs? what hopes he more
345    From his long lingering on a hostile shore,
346    Regardless to redeem his honour lost,
347    And for his race to gain the Ausonian coast?
348    Bid him with speed the Tyrian court forsake;
349    With this command the slumbering warrior wake."

350    Hermes obeys; with golden pinions binds
351    His flying feet, and mounts the western winds:
352    And, whether o'er the seas or earth he flies,
353    With rapid force they bear him down the skies.
354    But first he grasps within his awful hand
355    The mark of sovereign power, his magic wand;
356    With this he draws the ghosts from hollow graves;
357    With this he drives them down the Stygian waves;
358    With this he seals in sleep the wakeful sight,
359    And eyes, though closed in death, restores to light.
360    Thus armed, the god begins his airy race,
361    And drives the racking clouds along the liquid space;
362    Now sees the top of Atlas, as he flies,
363    Whose brawny back supports the starry skies;
364    Atlas, whose head, with piny forests crowned,
365    Is beaten by the winds, with foggy vapours bound.
366    Snows hide his shoulders; from beneath his chin
367    The founts of rolling streams their race begin;
368    A beard of ice on his large breast depends.—
369    Here, poised upon his wings, the god descends:
370    Then, rested thus, he from the towering height
371    Plunged downward with precipitated flight,
372    Lights on the seas, and skims along the flood.
373    As water-fowl, who seek their fishy food,
374    Less, and yet less, to distant prospect show;
375    By turns they dance aloft, and dive below:
376    Like these, the steerage of his wings he plies,
377    And near the surface of the water flies,
378    Till, having passed the seas, and crossed the sands,
379    He closed his wings, and stooped on Libyan lands,
380    Where shepherds once were housed in homely sheds;
381    Now towers within the clouds advance their heads.
382    Arriving there, he found the Trojan prince
383    New ramparts raising for the town's defence.
384    A purple scarf, with gold embroidered o'er
385    (Queen Dido's gift), about his waist he wore;
386    A sword, with glittering gems diversified,
387    For ornament, not use, hung idly by his side.
388    Then thus, with winged words, the god began,
389    Resuming his own shape—"Degenerate man!
390    Thou woman's property! what mak'st thou here,
391    These foreign walls and Tyrian towers to rear,
392    Forgetful of thy own? All-powerful Jove,
393    Who sways the world below and heaven above,
394    Has sent me down with this severe command:
395    What means thy lingering in the Libyan land?
396    If glory cannot move a mind so mean,
397    Nor future praise from flitting pleasure wean,
398    Regard the fortunes of thy rising heir:
399    The promised crown let young Ascanius wear,
400    To whom the Ausonian sceptre, and the state
401    Of Rome's imperial name, is owed by Fate."
402    So spoke the god; and, speaking, took his flight,
403    Involved in clouds, and vanished out of sight.

404    The pious prince was seized with sudden fear;
405    Mute was his tongue, and upright stood his hair.
406    Revolving in his mind the stern command,
407    He longs to fly, and loathes the charming land.
408    What should he say? or how should he begin?
409    What course, alas! remains to steer between
410    The offended lover and the powerful queen?
411    This way, and that, he turns his anxious mind,
412    And all expedients tries, and none can find.
413    Fixed on the deed, but doubtful of the means,
414    After long thought, to this advice he leans:
415    Three chiefs he calls, commands them to repair
416    The fleet, and ship their men, with silent care:
417    Some plausible pretence he bids them find,
418    To colour what in secret he designed.
419    Himself, meantime, the softest hours would choose,
420    Before the love-sick lady heard the news;
421    And move her tender mind, by slow degrees,
422    To suffer what the sovereign power decrees:
423    Jove will inspire him, when, and what to say.—
424    They hear with pleasure, and with haste obey.

425    But soon the queen perceives the thin disguise:
426    (What arts can blind a jealous woman's eyes?)
427    She was the first to find the secret fraud,
428    Before the fatal news was blazed abroad.
429    Love the first motions of the lover hears,
430    Quick to presage, and even in safety fears.
431    Nor impious Fame was wanting to report
432    The ships repaired, the Trojans' thick resort,
433    And purpose to forsake the Tyrian court.
434    Frantic with fear, impatient of the wound,
435    And impotent of mind, she roves the city round.
436    Less wild the Bacchanalian dames appear,
437    When, from afar, their nightly god they hear,
438    And howl about the hills, and shake the wreathy spear.
439    At length she finds the dear perfidious man;
440    Prevents his formed excuse, and thus began:—
441    "Base and ungrateful! could you hope to fly,
442    And undiscovered 'scape a lover's eye?
443    Nor could my kindness your compassion move,
444    Nor plighted vows, nor dearer bands of love?
445    Or is the death of a despairing queen
446    Not worth preventing, though too well foreseen?
447    Even when the wintry winds command your stay,
448    You dare the tempests, and defy the sea.
449    False, as you are, suppose you were not bound
450    To lands unknown, and foreign coasts to sound;
451    Were Troy restored, and Priam's happy reign,
452    Now durst you tempt, for Troy, the raging main?
453    See, whom you fly! am I the foe you shun?
454    Now, by those holy vows, so late begun,
455    By this right hand (since I have nothing more
456    To challenge, but the faith you gave before),
457    I beg you by these tears too truly shed,
458    By the new pleasures of our nuptial bed;
459    If ever Dido, when you most were kind,
460    Were pleasing in your eyes, or touched your mind;
461    By these my prayers, if prayers may yet have place,
462    Pity the fortunes of a falling race!
463    For you, I have provoked a tyrant's hate,
464    Incensed the Libyan and the Tyrian state;
465    For you alone, I suffer in my fame,
466    Bereft of honour, and exposed to shame!
467    Whom have I now to trust, ungrateful guest?
468    (That only name remains of all the rest!)
469    What have I left? or whither can I fly?
470    Must I attend Pygmalion's cruelty,
471    Or till Iarbas shall in triumph lead
472    A queen, that proudly scorned his proffered bed?
473    Had you deferred, at least, your hasty flight,
474    And left behind some pledge of our delight,
475    Some babe to bless the mother's mournful sight,
476    Some young Æneas to supply your place,
477    Whose features might express his father's face;
478    I should not then complain to live bereft
479    Of all my husband, or be wholly left."

480    Here paused the queen. Unmoved he holds his eyes,
481    By Jove's command; nor suffered love to rise,
482    Though heaving in his heart; and thus at length replies:—
483    "Fair queen, you never can enough repeat
484    Your boundless favours, or I own my debt;
485    Nor can my mind forget Eliza's name,
486    While vital breath inspires this mortal frame.
487    This only let me speak in my defence—
488    I never hoped a secret flight from hence,
489    Much less pretended to the lawful claim
490    Of sacred nuptials, or a husband's name.
491    For, if indulgent heaven would leave me free,
492    And not submit my life to Fate's decree,
493    My choice would lead me to the Trojan shore,
494    Those relics to review, their dust adore,
495    And Priam's ruined palace to restore.
496    But now the Delphian oracle commands,
497    And Fate invites me to the Latian lands.
498    That is the promised place to which I steer,
499    And all my vows are terminated there.
500    If you, a Tyrian and a stranger born,
501    With walls and towers a Libyan town adorn,
502    Why may not we—like you, a foreign race—
503    Like you, seek shelter in a foreign place?
504    As often as the night obscures the skies
505    With humid shades, or twinkling stars arise,
506    Anchises' angry ghost in dreams appears,
507    Chides my delay, and fills my soul with fears;
508    And young Ascanius justly may complain,
509    Defrauded of his fate and destined reign.
510    Even now the herald of the gods appeared—
511    Waking I saw him, and his message heard.
512    From Jove he came commissioned, heavenly bright
513    With radiant beams, and manifest to sight
514    (The sender and the sent I both attest):
515    These walls he entered, and those words expressed:—
516    Fair queen, oppose not what the gods command;
517    Forced by my fate, I leave your happy land."

518    Thus while he spoke, already she began,
519    With sparkling eyes, to view the guilty man;
520    From head to foot surveyed his person o'er,
521    Nor longer these outrageous threats forebore:—
522    "False as thou art, and, more than false, forsworn!
523    Not sprung from noble blood, nor goddess-born,
524    But hewn from hardened entrails of a rock!
525    And rough Hyrcanian tigers gave thee suck!
526    Why should I fawn? what have I worse to fear?
527    Did he once look, or lent a listening ear,
528    Sighed when I sobbed, or shed one kindly tear?
529    All symptoms of a base ungrateful mind,
530    So foul, that, which is worse, 'tis hard to find.
531    Of man's injustice why should I complain?
532    The gods, and Jove himself, behold in vain
533    Triumphant treason; yet no thunder flies,
534    Nor Juno views my wrongs with equal eyes;
535    Faithless is earth, and faithless are the skies!
536    Justice is fled, and truth is now no more!
537    I saved the shipwrecked exile on my shore;
538    With needful food his hungry Trojans fed;
539    I took the traitor to my throne and bed:
540    Fool that I was—'tis little to repeat
541    The rest—I stored and rigged his ruined fleet.
542    I rave, I rave! A god's command he pleads,
543    And makes heaven accessory to his deeds.
544    Now Lycian lots, and now the Delian god,
545    Now Hermes is employed from Jove's abode,
546    To warn him hence; as if the peaceful state
547    Of heavenly powers were touched with human fate!
548    But go! thy flight no longer I detain—
549    Go! seek thy promised kingdom through the main!
550    Yet, if the heavens will hear my pious vow,
551    The faithless waves, not half so false as thou,
552    Or secret sands, shall sepulchres afford
553    To thy proud vessels, and their perjured lord.
554    Then shalt thou call on injured Dido's name:
555    Dido shall come in a black sulphury flame,
556    When death has once dissolved her mortal frame—
557    Shall smile to see the traitor vainly weep:
558    Her angry ghost, arising from the deep,
559    Shall haunt thee waking, and disturb thy sleep.
560    At least my shade thy punishment shall know,
561    And Fame shall spread the pleasing news below."

562    Abruptly here she stops—then turns away
563    Her loathing eyes, and shuns the sight of day.
564    Amazed he stood, revolving in his mind
565    What speech to frame, and what excuse to find.
566    Her fearful maids their fainting mistress led,
567    And softly laid her on her ivory bed.

568    But good Æneas, though he much desired
569    To give that pity which her grief required—
570    Though much he mourned, and laboured with his love—
571    Resolved at length, obeys the will of Jove;
572    Reviews his forces: they with early care
573    Unmoor their vessels, and for sea prepare.
574    The fleet is soon afloat, in all its pride,
575    And well-caulked galleys in the harbour ride.
576    Then oaks for oars they felled; or, as they stood,
577    Of its green arms despoiled the growing wood,
578    Studious of flight. The beach is covered o'er
579    With Trojan bands, that blacken all the shore:
580    On every side are seen, descending down,
581    Thick swarms of soldiers, loaden from the town.
582    Thus, in battalia, march embodied ants,
583    Fearful of winter, and of future wants,
584    To invade the corn, and to their cells convey
585    The plundered forage of their yellow prey.
586    The sable troops, along the narrow tracks,
587    Scarce bear the weighty burden on their backs:
588    Some set their shoulders to the ponderous grain;
589    Some guard the spoil; some lash the lagging train;
590    All ply their several tasks, and equal toil sustain.
591    What pangs the tender breast of Dido tore,
592    When, from the tower, she saw the covered shore,
593    And heard the shouts of sailors from afar,
594    Mixed with the murmurs of the watery war!
595    All-powerful Love! what changes canst thou cause
596    In human hearts, subjected to thy laws!
597    Once more her haughty soul the tyrant bends:
598    To prayers and mean submissions she descends.
599    No female arts or aids she left untried,
600    Nor counsels unexplored, before she died.
601    "Look, Anna! look! the Trojans crowd to sea;
602    They spread their canvas, and their anchors weigh.
603    The shouting crew their ships with garlands bind,
604    Invoke the sea-gods, and invite the wind.
605    Could I have thought this threatening blow so near,
606    My tender soul had been forewarned to bear.
607    But do not you my last request deny;
608    With yon perfidious man your interest try,
609    And bring me news, if I must live or die.
610    You are his favourite; you alone can find
611    The dark recesses of his inmost mind:
612    In all his trusted secrets you have part,
613    And know the soft approaches to his heart.
614    Haste then, and humbly seek my haughty foe;
615    Tell him, I did not with the Grecians go,
616    Nor did my fleet against his friends employ,
617    Nor swore the ruin of unhappy Troy,
618    Nor moved with hands profane his father's dust:
619    Why should he then reject a suit so just?
620    Whom does he shun? and whither would he fly?
621    Can he this last, this only prayer deny?
622    Let him at least his dangerous flight delay,
623    Wait better winds, and hope a calmer sea.
624    The nuptials he disclaims, I urge no more:
625    Let him pursue the promised Latian shore.
626    A short delay is all I ask him now—
627    A pause of grief, an interval from woe,
628    Till my soft soul be tempered to sustain
629    Accustomed sorrows, and inured to pain.
630    If you in pity grant this one request,
631    My death shall glut the hatred of his breast."
632    This mournful message pious Anna bears,
633    And seconds, with her own, her sister's tears:
634    But all her arts are still employed in vain;
635    Again she comes, and is refused again.
636    His hardened heart nor prayers nor threatenings move;
637    Fate, and the god, had stopped his ears to love.

638    As, when the winds their airy quarrel try,
639    Jostling from every quarter of the sky,
640    This way and that the mountain oak they bend,
641    His boughs they shatter, and his branches rend;
642    With leaves and falling mast they spread the ground;
643    The hollow valleys echo to the sound:
644    Unmoved, the royal plant their fury mocks,
645    Or, shaken, clings more closely to the rocks;
646    Far as he shoots his towering head on high,
647    So deep in earth his fixed foundations lie.—
648    No less a storm the Trojan hero bears;
649    Thick messages and loud complaints he hears,
650    And bandied words, still beating on his ears.
651    Sighs, groans, and tears, proclaim his inward pains;
652    But the firm purpose of his heart remains.

653    The wretched queen, pursued by cruel Fate,
654    Begins at length the light of heaven to hate,
655    And loathes to live. Then dire portents she sees,
656    To hasten on the death her soul decrees—
657    Strange to relate! for when, before the shrine,
658    She pours in sacrifice the purple wine,
659    The purple wine is turned to putrid blood,
660    And the white offered milk converts to mud.
661    This dire presage, to her alone revealed,
662    From all, and even her sister, she concealed.
663    A marble temple stood within the grove,
664    Sacred to death, and to her murdered love;
665    That honoured chapel she had hung around
666    With snowy fleeces, and with garlands crowned:
667    Oft, when she visited this lonely dome,
668    Strange voices issued from her husband's tomb:
669    She thought she heard him summon her away,
670    Invite her to his grave, and chide her stay.
671    Hourly 'tis heard, when with a boding note
672    The solitary screech-owl strains her throat,
673    And, on a chimney's top, or turret's height,
674    With songs obscene, disturbs the silence of the night.
675    Besides, old prophecies augment her fears;
676    And stern Æneas in her dreams appears,
677    Disdainful as by day: she seems, alone,
678    To wander in her sleep, through ways unknown,
679    Guideless and dark; or, in a desert plain,
680    To seek her subjects, and to seek in vain—
681    Like Pentheus, when, distracted with his fear,
682    He saw two suns, and double Thebes, appear;
683    Or mad Orestes, when his mother's ghost
684    Full in his face infernal torches tossed,
685    And shook her snaky locks: he shuns the sight,
686    Flies o'er the stage, surprised with mortal fright;
687    The Furies guard the door, and intercept his flight.

688    Now, sinking underneath a load of grief,
689    From death alone she seeks her last relief;
690    The time and means resolved within her breast,
691    She to her mournful sister thus addressed:—
692    (Dissembling hope, her cloudy front she clears,
693    And a false vigour in her eyes appears)
694    "Rejoice!" she said. "Instructed from above,
695    My lover I shall gain, or lose my love.
696    Nigh rising Atlas, next the falling sun,
697    Long tracts of Ethiopian climates run:
698    There a Massylian priestess I have found,
699    Honoured for age, for magic arts renowned:
700    The Hesperian temple was her trusted care;
701    'Twas she supplied the wakeful dragon's fare.
702    She poppy-seeds in honey taught to steep,
703    Reclaimed his rage, and soothed him into sleep:
704    She watched the golden fruit. Her charms unbind
705    The chains of love, or fix them on the mind;
706    She stops the torrents, leaves the channel dry,
707    Repels the stars, and backward bears the sky.
708    The yawning earth rebellows to her call,
709    Pale ghosts ascend, and mountain ashes fall.
710    Witness, ye gods, and thou my better part,
711    How loth I am to try this impious art!
712    Within the secret court, with silent care,
713    Erect a lofty pile, exposed in air:
714    Hang, on the topmost part, the Trojan vest,
715    Spoils, arms, and presents, of my faithless guest.
716    Next, under these, the bridal bed be placed,
717    Where I my ruin in his arms embraced.
718    All relics of the wretch are doomed to fire;
719    For so the priestess and her charms require."
720    Thus far she said, and further speech forbears.
721    A mortal paleness in her face appears:
722    Yet the mistrustless Anna could not find
723    The secret funeral, in these rites designed;
724    Nor thought so dire a rage possessed her mind.
725    Unknowing of a train concealed so well,
726    She feared no worse than when Sichæus fell;
727    Therefore obeys. The fatal pile they rear,
728    Within the secret court, exposed in air.
729    The cloven holms and pines are heaped on high,
730    And garlands on the hollow spaces lie.
731    Sad cypress, vervain, yew, compose the wreath,
732    And every baleful green denoting death.
733    The queen, determined to the fatal deed,
734    The spoils and sword he left, in order spread,
735    And the man's image on the nuptial bed.

736    And now (the sacred altars placed around)
737    The priestess enters, with her hair unbound,
738    And thrice invokes the power below the ground.
739    Night, Erebus, and Chaos, she proclaims,
740    And threefold Hecate, with her hundred names,
741    And three Dianas: next, she sprinkles round,
742    With feigned Avernian drops, the hallowed ground;
743    Culls hoary simples, found by Phoebe's light,
744    With brazen sickles reaped at noon of night;
745    Then mixes baleful juices in the bowl,
746    And cuts the forehead of a new-born foal,
747    Robbing the mother's love.—The destined queen
748    Observes, assisting at the rites obscene:
749    A leavened cake in her devoted hands
750    She holds, and next the highest altar stands:
751    One tender foot was shod, her other bare,
752    Girt was her gathered gown, and loose her hair.
753    Thus dressed, she summoned, with her dying breath,
754    The heavens and planets conscious of her death,
755    And every power, if any rules above,
756    Who minds, or who revenges, injured love.

757    'Twas dead of night, when weary bodies close
758    Their eyes in balmy sleep, and soft repose:
759    The winds no longer whisper through the woods,
760    Nor murmuring tides disturb the gentle floods.
761    The stars in silent order moved around;
762    And Peace, with downy wings, was brooding on the ground.
763    The flocks and herds, and party-coloured fowl,
764    Which haunt the woods, or swim the weedy pool,
765    Stretched on the quiet earth, securely lay,
766    Forgetting the past labours of the day.
767    All else of nature's common gift partake:
768    Unhappy Dido was alone awake.
769    Nor sleep nor ease the furious queen can find;
770    Sleep fled her eyes, as quiet fled her mind.
771    Despair, and rage, and love, divide her heart;
772    Despair and rage had some, but love the greater part.

773    Then thus she said within her secret mind:—
774    "What shall I do? what succour can I find?
775    Become a suppliant to Iarbas' pride,
776    And take my turn to court, and be denied?
777    Shall I with this ungrateful Trojan go,
778    Forsake an empire, and attend a foe?
779    Himself I refuged, and his train relieved—
780    'Tis true—but am I sure to be received?
781    Can gratitude in Trojan souls have place?
782    Laomedon still lives in all his race!
783    Then, shall I seek alone the churlish crew,
784    Or with my fleet their flying sails pursue?
785    What force have I but those, whom scarce before
786    I drew reluctant from their native shore?
787    Will they again embark at my desire,
788    Once more sustain the seas, and quit their second Tyre?
789    Rather with steel thy guilty breast invade,
790    And take the fortune thou thyself hast made.
791    Your pity, sister, first seduced my mind,
792    Or seconded too well what I designed.
793    These dear-bought pleasures had I never known,
794    Had I continued free, and still my own—
795    Avoiding love, I had not found despair,
796    But shared with savage beasts the common air.
797    Like them, a lonely life I might have led,
798    Not mourned the living, nor disturbed the dead."
799    These thoughts she brooded in her anxious breast.—
800    On board, the Trojan found more easy rest.
801    Resolved to sail, in sleep he passed the night;
802    And ordered all things for his early flight.

803    To whom once more the winged god appears;
804    His former youthful mien and shape he wears,
805    And with this new alarm invades his ears:—
806    "Sleep'st thou, O goddess-born? and canst thou drown
807    Thy needful cares, so near a hostile town,
808    Beset with foes; nor hear'st the western gales
809    Invite thy passage, and inspire thy sails?
810    She harbours in her heart a furious hate,
811    And thou shalt find the dire effects too late;
812    Fixed on revenge, and obstinate to die.
813    Haste swiftly hence, while thou hast power to fly.
814    The sea with ships will soon be covered o'er,
815    And blazing firebrands kindle all the shore.
816    Prevent her rage, while night obscures the skies,
817    And sail before the purple morn arise.
818    Who knows what hazards thy delay may bring?
819    Woman's a various and a changeful thing."—
820    Thus Hermes in the dream; then took his flight
821    Aloft in air unseen, and mixed with night.

822    Twice warned by the celestial messenger,
823    The pious prince arose with hasty fear;
824    Then roused his drowsy train without delay:
825    "Haste to your banks! your crooked anchors weigh,
826    And spread your flying sails, and stand to sea!
827    A god commands: he stood before my sight,
828    And urged us once again to speedy flight.
829    O sacred power! what power soe'er thou art,
830    To thy blessed orders I resign my heart.
831    Lead thou the way; protect thy Trojan bands,
832    And prosper the design thy will commands."—
833    He said; and, drawing forth his flaming sword,
834    His thundering arm divides the many-twisted cord.
835    An emulating zeal inspires his train:
836    They run; they snatch; they rush into the main.
837    With headlong haste they leave the desert shores,
838    And brush the liquid seas with labouring oars.

839    Aurora now had left her saffron bed,
840    And beams of early light the heavens o'erspread,
841    When, from a tower, the queen, with wakeful eyes,
842    Saw day point upward from the rosy skies.
843    She looked to seaward; but the sea was void,
844    And scarce in ken the sailing ships descried.
845    Stung with despite, and furious with despair,
846    She struck her trembling breast, and tore her hair.
847    "And shall the ungrateful traitor go" (she said),
848    "My land forsaken, and my love betrayed?
849    Shall we not arm? not rush from every street,
850    To follow, sink, and burn, his perjured fleet?
851    Haste, haul my galleys out! pursue the foe!
852    Bring flaming brands! set sail, and swiftly row!—
853    What have I said? where am I? Fury turns
854    My brain; and my distempered bosom burns.
855    Then, when I gave my person and my throne,
856    This hate, this rage, had been more timely shown.
857    See now the promised faith, the vaunted name,
858    The pious man, who, rushing through the flame,
859    Preserved his gods, and to the Phrygian shore
860    The burden of his feeble father bore!
861    I should have torn him piece-meal—strewed in floods
862    His scattered limbs, or left exposed in woods—
863    Destroyed his friends, and son; and, from the fire,
864    Have set the reeking boy before the sire.
865    Events are doubtful, which on battle wait:
866    Yet where's the doubt, to souls secure of fate?
867    My Tyrians, at their injured queen's command,
868    Had tossed their fires amid the Trojan band;
869    At once extinguished all the faithless name;
870    And I myself, in vengeance of my shame,
871    Had fallen upon the pile, to mend the funeral flame.
872    Thou Sun, who view'st at once the world below!
873    Thou Juno, guardian of the nuptial vow!
874    Thou Hecate, hearken from thy dark abodes!
875    Ye Furies, Fiends, and violated Gods!
876    All powers invoked with Dido's dying breath,
877    Attend her curses and avenge her death!
878    If so the Fates ordain, and Jove commands,
879    The ungrateful wretch should find the Latian lands,
880    Yet let a race untamed, and haughty foes,
881    His peaceful entrance with dire arms oppose:
882    Oppressed with numbers in the unequal field,
883    His men discouraged, and himself expelled,
884    Let him for succour sue from place to place,
885    Torn from his subjects, and his son's embrace.
886    First, let him see his friends in battle slain,
887    And their untimely fate lament in vain:
888    And when, at length, the cruel war shall cease,
889    On hard conditions may he buy his peace:
890    Nor let him then enjoy supreme command;
891    But fall, untimely, by some hostile hand,
892    And lie unburied on the barren sand!
893    These are my prayers, and this my dying will;
894    And you, my Tyrians, every curse fulfil.
895    Perpetual hate, and mortal wars proclaim,
896    Against the prince, the people, and the name.
897    These grateful offerings on my grave bestow;
898    Nor league, nor love, the hostile nations know!
899    Now, and from hence, in every future age,
900    When rage excites your arms, and strength supplies the rage,
901    Rise some avenger of our Libyan blood,
902    With fire and sword pursue the perjured brood;
903    Our arms, our seas, our shores, opposed to theirs;
904    And the same hate descend on all our heirs!"

905    This said, within her anxious mind she weighs
906    The means of cutting short her odious days.
907    Then to Sichæus' nurse she briefly said
908    (For, when she left her country, hers was dead),
909    "Go, Barce, call my sister. Let her care
910    The solemn rites of sacrifice prepare
911    The sheep, and all the atoning offerings, bring;
912    Sprinkling her body from the crystal spring
913    With living drops; then let her come, and thou
914    With sacred fillets bind thy hoary brow.
915    Thus will I pay my vows to Stygian Jove,
916    And end the cares of my disastrous love;
917    Then cast the Trojan image on the fire,
918    And, as that burns, my passion shall expire."

919    The nurse moves onward with officious care,
920    And all the speed her aged limbs can bear.
921    But furious Dido, with dark thoughts involved,
922    Shook at the mighty mischief she resolved.
923    With livid spots distinguished was her face;
924    Red were her rolling eyes, and discomposed her pace;
925    Ghastly she gazed, with pain she drew her breath,
926    And nature shivered at approaching death.

927    Then swiftly to the fatal place she passed,
928    And mounts the funeral pile with furious haste;
929    Unsheathes the sword the Trojan left behind
930    (Not for so dire an enterprise designed).
931    But when she viewed the garments loosely spread,
932    Which once he wore, and saw the conscious bed,
933    She paused, and, with a sigh, the robes embraced,
934    Then on the couch her trembling body cast,
935    Repressed the ready tears, and spoke her last:—
936    "Dear pledges of my love, while heaven so pleased,
937    Receive a soul, of mortal anguish eased.
938    My fatal course is finished; and I go,
939    A glorious name, among the ghosts below.
940    A lofty city by my hands is raised;
941    Pygmalion punished, and my lord appeased.
942    What could my fortune have afforded more,
943    Had the false Trojan never touched my shore?"
944    Then kissed the couch; and "Must I die," she said,
945    "And unrevenged? 'tis doubly to be dead!
946    Yet even this death with pleasure I receive:
947    On any terms, 'tis better than to live.
948    These flames, from far, may the false Trojan view;
949    These boding omens his base flight pursue!"
950    She said, and struck; deep entered in her side
951    The piercing steel, with reeking purple dyed:
952    Clogged in the wound the cruel weapon stands;
953    The spouting blood came streaming on her hands.
954    Her sad attendants saw the deadly stroke,
955    And with loud cries the sounding palace shook.
956    Distracted, from the fatal sight they fled,
957    And through the town the dismal rumour spread.
958    First, from the frighted court the yell began;
959    Redoubled, thence from house to house it ran:
960    The groans of men, with shrieks, laments, and cries
961    Of mixing women, mount the vaulted skies.
962    Not less the clamour, than if—ancient Tyre,
963    Or the new Carthage, set by foes on fire—
964    The rolling ruin, with their loved abodes,
965    Involved the blazing temples of their gods.
966    Her sister hears; and, furious with despair,
967    She beats her breast, and rends her yellow hair,
968    And, calling on Eliza's name aloud,
969    Runs breathless to the place, and breaks the crowd.
970    "Was all that pomp of woe for this prepared,
971    These fires, this funeral pile, these altars reared?
972    Was all this train of plots contrived" (said she),
973    "All only to deceive unhappy me?
974    Which is the worst? Didst thou in death pretend
975    To scorn thy sister, or delude thy friend?
976    Thy summoned sister, and thy friend, had come;
977    One sword had served us both, one common tomb:
978    Was I to raise the pile, the powers invoke,
979    Not to be present at the fatal stroke?
980    At once thou hast destroyed thyself and me,
981    Thy town, thy senate, and thy colony!
982    Bring water! bathe the wound; while I in death
983    Lay close my lips to hers, and catch the flying breath."
984    This said, she mounts the pile with eager haste,
985    And in her arms the gasping queen embraced;
986    Her temples chafed; and her own garments tore,
987    To stanch the streaming blood, and cleanse the gore.
988    Thrice Dido tried to raise her drooping head,
989    And, fainting, thrice fell grovelling on the bed;
990    Thrice oped her heavy eyes, and sought the light,
991    But, having found it, sickened at the sight,
992    And closed her lids at last in endless night.
993    Then Juno, grieving that she should sustain
994    A death so lingering, and so full of pain,
995    Sent Iris down, to free her from the strife
996    Of labouring nature, and dissolve her life.
997    For, since she died, not doomed by heaven's decree,
998    Or her own crime, but human casualty,
999    And rage of love, that plunged her in despair,
1000    The Sisters had not cut the topmost hair,
1001    Which Proserpine and they can only know;
1002    Nor made her sacred to the shades below.—
1003    Downward the various goddess took her flight,
1004    And drew a thousand colours from the light;
1005    Then stood above the dying lover's head,
1006    And said, "I thus devote thee to the dead.
1007    This offering to the infernal gods I bear."
1008    Thus while she spoke, she cut the fatal hair:
1009    The struggling soul was loosed, and life dissolved in air.