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,
11 O Muse! the causes and the
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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;
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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.