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
crimes relate;
12 What goddess was provoked,
and whence her hate;
13 For what offence the queen of
heaven began
14 To persecute so brave, so
just a man;
15 Involved his anxious life in
endless cares,
16 Exposed to wants, and hurried
into wars!
17 Can heavenly minds such high
resentment show,
18 Or exercise their spite in
human woe?
19 Against the Tiber's mouth,
but far away,
20 An ancient town was seated on
the sea,
21 A Tyrian colony; the people
made
22 Stout for the war, and
studious of their trade:
23 Carthage the name; beloved by
Juno more
24 Than her own Argos, or the
Samian shore.
25 Here stood her chariot; here,
if heaven were kind,
26 The seat of awful empire she
designed.
27 Yet she had heard an ancient
rumour fly,
28 (Long cited by the people of
the sky),
29 That times to come should see
the Trojan race
30 Her Carthage ruin, and her
towers deface;
31 Nor thus confined, the yoke
of sovereign sway
32 Should on the necks of all
the nations lay.
33 She pondered this, and feared
it was in fate;
34 Nor could forget the war she
waged of late,
35 For conquering Greece against
the Trojan state.
36 Besides, long causes working
in her mind,
37 And secret seeds of envy, lay
behind:
38 Deep graven in her heart, the
doom remained
39 Of partial Paris, and her
form disdained;
40 The grace bestowed on
ravished Ganymed,
41 Electra's glories, and her
injured bed.
42 Each was a cause alone; and
all combined
43 To kindle vengeance in her
haughty mind.
44 For this, far distant from
the Latian coast,
45 She drove the remnants of the
Trojan host:
46 And seven long years the
unhappy wandering train
47 Were tossed by storms, and
scattered through the main.
48 Such time, such toil,
required the Roman name,
49 Such length of labour for so
vast a frame.
50 Now scarce the Trojan fleet,
with sails and oars,
51 Had left behind the fair
Sicilian shores,
52 Entering with cheerful shouts
the watery reign,
53 And ploughing frothy furrows
in the main;
54 When, labouring still with
endless discontent,
55 The queen of heaven did thus
her fury vent:
56 "Then am I vanquished? must I
yield?" said she:
57 "And must the Trojans reign
in Italy?
58 So Fate will have it; and
Jove adds his force;
59 Nor can my power divert their
happy course.
60 Could angry Pallas, with
revengeful spleen,
61 The Grecian navy burn, and
drown the men?
62 She, for the fault of one
offending foe,
63 The bolts of Jove himself
presumed to throw:
64 With whirlwinds from beneath
she tossed the ship,
65 And bare exposed the bosom of
the deep:
66 Then, as an eagle gripes the
trembling game,
67 The wretch, yet hissing with
her father's flame,
68 She strongly seized, and with
a burning wound
69 Transfixed, and, naked, on a
rock she bound.
70 But I, who walk in awful
state above,
71 The majesty of heaven, the
sister wife of Jove,
72 For length of years my
fruitless force employ
73 Against the thin remains of
ruined Troy!
74 What nations now to Juno's
power will pray,
75 Or offerings on my slighted
altars lay?"
76 Thus raged the goddess; and,
with fury fraught,
77 The restless regions of the
storms she sought,
78 Where, in a spacious cave of
living stone,
79 The tyrant Æolus, from
his airy throne,
80 With power imperial curbs the
struggling winds,
81 And sounding tempests in dark
prisons binds.
82 This way, and that, the
impatient captives tend,
83 And, pressing for release,
the mountains rend.
84 High in his hall the
undaunted monarch stands,
85 And shakes his sceptre, and
their rage commands;
86 Which did he not, their
unresisted sway
87 Would sweep the world before
them in their way;
88 Earth, air, and seas, through
empty space would roll,
89 And heaven would fly before
the driving soul.
90 In fear of this, the Father
of the Gods
91 Confined their fury to those
dark abodes,
92 And locked them safe within,
oppressed with mountain loads;
93 Imposed a king, with
arbitrary sway,
94 To loose their fetters, or
their force allay;
95 To whom the suppliant queen
her prayers addressed,
96 And thus the tenor of her
suit expressed:—
97 "O Æolus! for to thee
the king of heaven
98 The power of tempests and of
winds has given;
99 Thy force alone their fury
can restrain,
100 And smooth the waves, or
swell the troubled main—
101 A race of wandering slaves,
abhorred by me,
102 With prosperous passage cut
the Tuscan sea:
103 To fruitful Italy their
course they steer,
104 And, for their vanquished
gods, design new temples there.
105 Raise all thy winds; with
night involve the skies;
106 Sink or disperse my fatal
enemies.
107 Twice seven, the charming
daughters of the main,
108 Around my person wait, and
bear my train:
109 Succeed my wish, and second
my design,
110 The fairest, Deiopeia, shall
be thine,
111 And make thee father of a
happy line."
112 To this the god:—"'Tis
yours, O queen! to will
113 The work, which duty binds
me to fulfil.
114 These airy kingdoms, and
this wide command,
115 Are all the presents of your
bounteous hand:
116 Yours is my sovereign's
grace; and, as your guest,
117 I sit with gods at their
celestial feast.
118 Raise tempests at your
pleasure, or subdue;
119 Dispose of empire, which I
hold from you."
120 He said, and hurled against
the mountain-side
121 His quivering spear, and all
the god applied.
122 The raging winds rush
through the hollow wound,
123 And dance aloft in air, and
skim along the ground;
124 Then, settling on the sea,
the surges sweep,
125 Raise liquid mountains, and
disclose the deep.
126 South, East, and West, with
mixed confusion roar,
127 And roll the foaming billows
to the shore.
128 The cables crack; the
sailors' fearful cries
129 Ascend; and sable night
involves the skies;
130 And heaven itself is
ravished from their eyes.
131 Loud peals of thunder from
the poles ensue;
132 Then flashing fires the
transient light renew;
133 The face of things a
frightful image bears;
134 And present death in various
forms appears.
135 Struck with unusual fright,
the Trojan chief,
136 With lifted hands and eyes,
invokes relief;
137 And "Thrice and four times
happy those," he cried,
138 "That under Ilian walls,
before their parents, died!
139 Tydides, bravest of the
Grecian train!
140 Why could not I by that
strong arm be slain,
141 And lie by noble Hector on
the plain,
142 Or great Sarpedon, in those
bloody fields,
143 Where Simoïs rolls the
bodies and the shields
144 Of heroes, whose dismembered
hands yet bear
145 The dart aloft, and clench
the pointed spear!"
146 Thus while the pious prince
his fate bewails,
147 Fierce Boreas drove against
his flying sails,
148 And rent the sheets: the
raging billows rise,
149 And mount the tossing vessel
to the skies:
150 Nor can the shivering oars
sustain the blow;
151 The galley gives her side,
and turns her prow;
152 While those astern,
descending down the steep,
153 Through gaping waves behold
the boiling deep.
154 Three ships were hurried by
the Southern blast,
155 And on the secret shelves
with fury cast.
156 Those hidden rocks the
Ausonian sailors knew:
157 They called them Altars,
when they rose in view,
158 And showed their spacious
backs above the flood.
159 Three more fierce Eurus, in
his angry mood,
160 Dashed on the shallows of
the moving sand,
161 And in mid ocean left them
moored a-land.
162 Orontes' bark, that bore the
Lycian crew,
163 (A horrid sight!) even in
the hero's view,
164 From stem to stern by waves
was overborne:
165 The trembling pilot, from
his rudder torn,
166 Was headlong hurled: thrice
round the ship was tossed,
167 Then bulged at once, and in
the deep was lost;
168 And here and there above the
waves were seen
169 Arms, pictures, precious
goods, and floating men.
170 The stoutest vessel to the
storm gave way,
171 And sucked, through loosened
planks, the rushing sea.
172 Ilioneus was her chief:
Aletes old,
173 Achates faithful, Abas young
and bold,
174 Endured not less: their
ships, with gaping seams,
175 Admit the deluge of the
briny streams.
176 Mean time imperial Neptune
heard the sound
177 Of raging billows breaking
on the ground.
178 Displeased, and fearing for
his watery reign,
179 He reared his awful head
above the main,
180 Serene in majesty; then
rolled his eyes
181 Around the space of earth,
and seas, and skies.
182 He saw the Trojan fleet
dispersed, distressed,
183 By stormy winds and wintry
heaven oppressed.
184 Full well the god his
sister's envy knew,
185 And what her aims and what
her arts pursue.
186 He summoned Eurus and the
Western blast,
187 And first an angry glance on
both he cast,
188 Then thus
rebuked—"Audacious winds! from whence
189 This bold attempt, this
rebel insolence?
190 Is it for you to ravage seas
and land,
191 Unauthorised by my supreme
command?
192 To raise such mountains on
the troubled main?
193 Whom I—but first 'tis fit
the billows to restrain;
194 And then you shall be taught
obedience to my reign.
195 Hence! to your lord my royal
mandate bear—
196 The realms of ocean and the
fields of air
197 Are mine, not his. By fatal lot to
me
198 The liquid empire fell, and
trident of the sea.
199 His power to hollow caverns
is confined:
200 There let him reign, the
jailor of the wind,
201 With hoarse commands his
breathing subjects call,
202 And boast and bluster in his
empty hall."
203 He spoke—and, while he
spoke, he smoothed the sea,
204 Dispelled the darkness, and
restored the day.
205 Cymothoë, Triton, and
the sea-green train
206 Of beauteous nymphs, the
daughters of the main,
207 Clear from the rocks the
vessels with their hands:
208 The god himself with ready
trident stands,
209 And opes the deep, and
spreads the moving sands;
210 Then heaves them off the
shoals.—Where'er he guides
211 His finny coursers, and in
triumph rides,
212 The waves unruffle, and the
sea subsides.
213 As, when in tumults rise the
ignoble crowd,
214 Mad are their motions, and
their tongues are loud;
215 And stones and brands in
rattling volleys fly,
216 And all the rustic arms that
fury can supply:
217 If then some grave and pious
man appear,
218 They hush their noise, and
lend a listening ear:
219 He soothes with sober words
their angry mood,
220 And quenches their innate
desire of blood:
221 So, when the father of the
flood appears,
222 And o'er the seas his
sovereign trident rears,
223 Their fury falls: he skims
the liquid plains,
224 High on his chariot, and,
with loosened reins,
225 Majestic moves along, and
awful peace maintains.
226 The weary Trojans ply their
shattered oars
227 To nearest land, and make
the Libyan shores.
228 Within a long recess there
lies a bay:
229 An island shades it from the
rolling sea,
230 And forms a port secure for
ships to ride:
231 Broke by the jutting land,
on either side,
232 In double streams the briny
waters glide,
233 Betwixt two rows of rocks: a
sylvan scene
234 Appears above, and groves
for ever green:
235 A grot is formed beneath,
with mossy seats,
236 To rest the Nereïds,
and exclude the heats.
237 Down through the crannies of
the living walls,
238 The crystal streams descend
in murmuring falls.
239 No hawsers need to bind the
vessels here,
240 Nor bearded anchors; for no
storms they fear.
241 Seven ships within this
happy harbour meet,
242 The thin remainders of the
scattered fleet.
243 The Trojans, worn with
toils, and spent with woes,
244 Leap on the welcome land,
and seek their wished repose.
245 First, good Achates, with
repeated strokes
246 Of clashing flints, their
hidden fire provokes:
247 Short flame succeeds: a bed
of withered leaves
248 The dying sparkles in their
fall receives:
249 Caught into life, in smoking
fumes they rise,
250 And, fed with stronger food,
invade the skies.
251 The Trojans, dropping wet,
or stand around
252 The cheerful blaze, or lie
along the ground.
253 Some dry their corn,
infected with the brine,
254 Then grind with marbles, and
prepare to dine.
255 Æneas climbs the
mountain's airy brow,
256 And takes a prospect of the
seas below,
257 If Capys thence, or Antheus,
he could spy,
258 Or see the streamers of
Caïcus fly.
259 No vessels were in view:
but, on the plain,
260 Three beamy stags command a
lordly train
261 Of branching heads: the more
ignoble throng
262 Attend their stately steps,
and slowly graze along.
263 He stood; and, while secure
they fed below,
264 He took the quiver and the
trusty bow
265 Achates used to bear: the
leaders first
266 He laid along, and then the
vulgar pierced:
267 Nor ceased his arrows, till
the shady plain
268 Seven mighty bodies with
their blood distain.
269 For the seven ships he made
an equal share,
270 And to the port returned,
triumphant from the war.
271 The jars of generous wine
(Acestes' gift,
272 When his Trinacrian shores
the navy left)
273 He set abroach, and for the
feast prepared,
274 In equal portions with the
venison shared.
275 Thus, while he dealt it
round, the pious chief,
276 With cheerful words, allayed
the common grief:—
277 "Endure, and conquer! Jove
will soon dispose,
278 To future good, our past and
present woes.
279 With me, the rocks of Scylla
you have tried;
280 The inhuman Cyclops, and his
den defied.
281 What greater ills hereafter
can you bear?
282 Resume your courage, and
dismiss your care.
283 An hour will come, with
pleasure to relate
284 Your sorrows past, as
benefits of Fate.
285 Through various hazards and
events, we move
286 To Latium, and the realms
foredoomed by Jove.
287 Called to the seat (the
promise of the skies)
288 Where Trojan kingdoms once
again may rise,
289 Endure the hardships of your
present state;
290 Live, and reserve yourselves
for better fate."
291 These words he spoke, but
spoke not from his heart;
292 His outward smiles concealed
his inward smart.
293 The jolly crew, unmindful of
the past,
294 The quarry share, their
plenteous dinner haste.
295 Some strip the skin; some
portion out the spoil;
296 The limbs, yet trembling, in
the cauldrons boil;
297 Some on the fire the reeking
entrails broil.
298 Stretched on the grassy
turf, at ease they dine,
299 Restore their strength with
meat, and cheer their souls with wine.
300 Their hunger thus appeased,
their care attends
301 The doubtful fortune of
their absent friends:
302 Alternate hopes and fears
their minds possess,
303 Whether to deem them dead,
or in distress.
304 Above the rest, Æneas
mourns the fate
305 Of brave Orontes, and the
uncertain state
306 Of Gyas, Lycus, and of
Amycus.—
307 The day, but not their
sorrows, ended thus;
308 When, from aloft, almighty
Jove surveys
309 Earth, air, and shores, and
navigable seas:
310 At length on Libyan realms
he fixed his eyes—
311 Whom, pondering thus on
human miseries,
312 When Venus saw, she with a
lowly look,
313 Not free from tears, her
heavenly sire bespoke:—
314 "O king of gods and men!
whose awful hand
315 Disperses thunder on the
seas and land;
316 Disposes all with absolute
command;
317 How could my pious son thy
power incense?
318 Or what, alas! is vanished
Troy's offence?
319 Our hope of Italy not only
lost,
320 On various seas by various
tempests tossed,
321 But shut from every shore,
and barred from every coast.
322 You promised once, a progeny
divine,
323 Of Romans, rising from the
Trojan line,
324 In after-times should hold
the world in awe,
325 And to the land and ocean
give the law.
326 How is your doom reversed,
which eased my care
327 When Troy was ruined in that
cruel war?
328 Then fates to fates I could
oppose: but now,
329 When Fortune still pursues
her former blow,
330 What can I hope? What worse
can still succeed?
331 What end of labours has your
will decreed?
332 Antenor, from the midst of
Grecian hosts,
333 Could pass secure, and
pierce the Illyrian coasts,
334 Where, rolling down the
steep, Timavus raves,
335 And through nine channels
disembogues his waves.
336 At length he founded Padua's
happy seat,
337 And gave his Trojans a
secure retreat;
338 There fixed their arms, and
there renewed their name,
339 And there in quiet rules,
and crowned with fame.
340 But we, descended from your
sacred line,
341 Entitled to your heaven and
rites divine,
342 Are banished earth, and, for
the wrath of one,
343 Removed from Latium, and the
promised throne.
344 Are these our sceptres?
these our due rewards?
345 And is it thus that Jove his
plighted faith regards?"
346 To whom the Father of the
immortal race,
347 Smiling with that serene
indulgent face,
348 With which he drives the
clouds and clears the skies,
349 First gave a holy kiss; then
thus replies:—
350 "Daughter, dismiss thy
fears: to thy desire,
351 The fates of thine are
fixed, and stand entire.
352 Thou shalt behold thy wished
Lavinian walls;
353 And, ripe for heaven, when
fate Æneas calls,
354 Then shalt thou bear him up,
sublime, to me:
355 No councils have reversed my
firm decree.
356 And, lest new fears disturb
thy happy state,
357 Know, I have searched the
mystic rolls of Fate:
358 Thy son (nor is the
appointed season far)
359 In Italy shall wage
successful war,
360 Shall tame fierce nations in
the bloody field,
361 And sovereign laws impose,
and cities build,
362 Till, after every foe
subdued, the sun
363 Thrice through the signs his
annual race shall run:
364 This is his time prefixed.
Ascanius then,
365 Now called Iülus, shall
begin his reign.
366 He thirty rolling years the
crown shall wear,
367 Then from Lavinium shall the
seat transfer,
368 And, with hard labour,
Alba-longa build.
369 The throne with his
succession shall be filled,
370 Three hundred circuits more:
then shall be seen
371 Ilia the fair, a priestess
and a queen,
372 Who, full of Mars, in time,
with kindly throes,
373 Shall at a birth two goodly
boys disclose.
374 The royal babes a tawny wolf
shall drain:
375 Then Romulus his grandsire's
throne shall gain,
376 Of martial towers the
founder shall become,
377 The people Romans call, the
city Rome.
378 To them no bounds of empire
I assign,
379 Nor term of years to their
immortal line.
380 Even haughty Juno, who, with
endless broils,
381 Earth, seas, and heaven, and
Jove himself, turmoils,
382 At length atoned, her
friendly power shall join,
383 To cherish and advance the
Trojan line.
384 The subject world shall
Rome's dominion own,
385 And, prostrate, shall adore
the nation of the gown.
386 An age is ripening in
revolving fate,
387 When Troy shall overturn the
Grecian state,
388 And sweet revenge her
conquering sons shall call,
389 To crush the people that
conspired her fall.
390 Then Cæsar from the
Julian stock shall rise,
391 Whose empire ocean, and
whose fame the skies,
392 Alone shall bound; whom,
fraught with eastern spoils,
393 Our heaven, the just reward
of human toils,
394 Securely shall repay with
rites divine;
395 And incense shall ascend
before his sacred shrine.
396 Then dire debate, and
impious war, shall cease,
397 And the stern age be
softened into peace:
398 Then banished Faith shall
once again return,
399 And Vestal fires in hallowed
temples burn;
400 And Remus with Quirinus
shall sustain
401 The righteous laws, and
fraud and force restrain.
402 Janus himself before his
fane shall wait,
403 And keep the dreadful issues
of his gate,
404 With bolts and iron bars:
within remains
405 Imprisoned Fury, bound in
brazen chains:
406 High on a trophy raised, of
useless arms,
407 He sits, and threats the
world with vain alarms."
408 He said, and sent Cyllenius
with command
409 To free the ports, and ope
the Punic land
410 To Trojan guests; lest,
ignorant of fate,
411 The queen might force them
from her town and state.
412 Down from the steep of
heaven Cyllenius flies,
413 And cleaves with all his
wings the yielding skies.
414 Soon on the Libyan shore
descends the god,
415 Performs his message, and
displays his rod.
416 The surly murmurs of the
people cease;
417 And, as the Fates required,
they give the peace.
418 The queen herself suspends
the rigid laws,
419 The Trojans pities, and
protects their cause.
420 Mean time, in shades of
night Æneas lies:
421 Care seized his soul, and
sleep forsook his eyes.
422 But, when the sun restored
the cheerful day,
423 He rose, the coast and
country to survey,
424 Anxious and eager to
discover more.—
425 It looked a wild
uncultivated shore:
426 But, whether humankind, or
beasts alone,
427 Possessed the new-found
region, was unknown.
428 Beneath a ledge of rocks his
fleet he hides:
429 Tall trees surround the
mountain's shady sides:
430 The bending brow above a
safe retreat provides.
431 Armed with two pointed
darts, he leaves his friends,
432 And true Achates on his
steps attends.
433 Lo! in the deep recesses of
the wood,
434 Before his eyes his goddess
mother stood—
435 A huntress in her habit and
her mien:
436 Her dress a maid, her air
confessed a queen.
437 Bare were her knees, and
knots her garments bind;
438 Loose was her hair, and
wantoned in the wind;
439 Her hand sustained a bow;
her quiver hung behind.
440 She seemed a virgin of the
Spartan blood:
441 With such array Harpalyce
bestrode
442 Her Thracian courser, and
outstripped the rapid flood.
443 "Ho! strangers! have you
lately seen," she said,
444 "One of my sisters, like
myself arrayed,
445 Who crossed the lawn, or in
the forest strayed?
446 A painted quiver at her back
she bore;
447 Varied with spots, a lynx's
hide she wore;
448 And at full cry pursued the
tusky boar."
449 Thus Venus: thus her son
replied again:—
450 "None of your sisters have
we heard or seen,
451 O virgin! or what other name
you bear
452 Above that style:—O more
than mortal fair!
453 Your voice and mien
celestial birth betray!
454 If, as you seem, the sister
of the day,
455 Or one at least of chaste
Diana's train,
456 Let not an humble suppliant
sue in vain;
457 But tell a stranger, long in
tempests tossed,
458 What earth we tread, and who
commands the coast?
459 Then on your name shall
wretched mortals call,
460 And offered victims at your
altars fall."—
461 "I dare not," she replied,
"assume the name
462 Of goddess, or celestial
honours claim:
463 For Tyrian virgins bows and
quivers bear,
464 And purple buskins o'er
their ankles wear.
465 Know, gentle youth, in
Libyan lands you are—
466 A people rude in peace, and
rough in war.
467 The rising city, which from
far you see,
468 Is Carthage, and a Tyrian
colony.
469 Phoenician Dido rules the
growing state,
470 Who fled from Tyre, to shun
her brother's hate.
471 Great were her wrongs, her
story full of fate;
472 Which I will sum in short.
Sichæus, known
473 For wealth, and brother to
the Punic throne,
474 Possessed fair Dido's bed;
and either heart
475 At once was wounded with an
equal dart.
476 Her father gave her, yet a
spotless maid;
477 Pygmalion then the Tyrian
sceptre swayed—
478 One who contemned divine and
human laws.
479 Then strife ensued, and
cursed gold the cause.
480 The monarch, blinded with
desire of wealth,
481 With steel invades his
brother's life by stealth;
482 Before the sacred altar made
him bleed,
483 And long from her concealed
the cruel deed.
484 Some tale, some new
pretence, he daily coined,
485 To soothe his sister, and
delude her mind.
486 At length, in dead of night,
the ghost appears
487 Of her unhappy lord: the
spectre stares,
488 And, with erected eyes, his
bloody bosom bares.
489 The cruel altars, and his
fate, he tells,
490 And the dire secret of his
house reveals,
491 Then warns the widow, with
her household gods,
492 To seek a refuge in remote
abodes.
493 Last, to support her in so
long a way,
494 He shows her where his
hidden treasure lay.
495 Admonished thus, and seized
with mortal fright,
496 The queen provides
companions of her flight:
497 They meet, and all combine
to leave the state,
498 Who hate the tyrant, or who
fear his hate.
499 They seize a fleet, which
ready rigged they find;
500 Nor is Pygmalion's treasure
left behind.
501 The vessels, heavy laden,
put to sea
502 With prosperous winds; a
woman leads the way.
503 I know not, if by stress of
weather driven,
504 Or was their fatal course
disposed by heaven;
505 At last they landed, where
from far your eyes
506 May view the turrets of new
Carthage rise;
507 There bought a space of
ground, which (Byrsa called,
508 From the bull's hide) they
first inclosed, and walled.
509 But whence are you? what
country claims your birth?
510 What seek you, strangers, on
our Libyan earth?"
511 To whom, with sorrow
streaming from his eyes,
512 And deeply sighing, thus her
son replies:—
513 "Could you with patience
hear, or I relate,
514 O nymph! the tedious annals
of our fate,
515 Through such a train of woes
if I should run,
516 The day would sooner than
the tale be done.
517 From ancient Troy, by force
expelled, we came—
518 If you by chance have heard
the Trojan name.
519 On various seas by various
tempests tossed,
520 At length we landed on your
Libyan coast.
521 The good Æneas am I
called—a name,
522 While Fortune favoured, not
unknown to fame.
523 My household gods,
companions of my woes,
524 With pious care I rescued
from our foes.
525 To fruitful Italy my course
was bent;
526 And from the king of heaven
is my descent.
527 With twice ten sail I
crossed the Phrygian sea;
528 Fate and my mother goddess
led my way.
529 Scarce seven, the thin
remainders of my fleet,
530 From storms preserved,
within your harbour meet.
531 Myself distressed, an exile,
and unknown,
532 Debarred from Europe, and
from Asia thrown,
533 In Libyan deserts wander
thus alone."
534 His tender parent could no
longer bear,
535 But, interposing, sought to
soothe his care.
536 "Whoe'er you are—not
unbeloved by heaven,
537 Since on our friendly shore
your ships are driven—
538 Have courage: to the gods
permit the rest,
539 And to the queen expose your
just request.
540 Now take this earnest of
success, for more:
541 Your scattered fleet is
joined upon the shore;
542 The winds are changed, your
friends from danger free;
543 Or I renounce my skill in
augury.
544 Twelve swans behold in
beauteous order move,
545 And stoop with closing
pinions from above;
546 Whom late the bird of Jove
had driven along,
547 And through the clouds
pursued the scattering throng:
548 Now, all united in a goodly
team,
549 They skim the ground, and
seek the quiet stream.
550 As they, with joy returning,
clap their wings,
551 And ride the circuit of the
skies in rings;
552 Not otherwise your ships,
and every friend,
553 Already hold the port, or
with swift sails descend.
554 No more advice is needful;
but pursue
555 The path before you, and the
town in view."
556 Thus having said, she
turned, and made appear
557 Her neck refulgent, and
dishevelled hair,
558 Which, flowing from her
shoulders, reached the ground,
559 And widely spread ambrosial
scents around.
560 In length of train descends
her sweeping gown;
561 And, by her graceful walk,
the queen of love is known.
562 The prince pursued the
parting deity
563 With words like
these:—"Ah! whither do you fly?
564 Unkind and cruel! to deceive
your son
565 In borrowed shapes, and his
embrace to shun;
566 Never to bless my sight, but
thus unknown;
567 And still to speak in
accents not your own."
568 Against the goddess these
complaints he made,
569 But took the path, and her
commands obeyed.
570 They march obscure; for
Venus kindly shrouds,
571 With mists, their persons,
and involves in clouds,
572 That, thus unseen, their
passage none might stay,
573 Or force to tell the causes
of their way.
574 This part performed, the
goddess flies sublime,
575 To visit Paphos, and her
native clime;
576 Where garlands, ever green
and ever fair,
577 With vows are offered, and
with solemn prayer:
578 A hundred altars in her
temple smoke;
579 A thousand bleeding hearts
her power invoke.
580 They climb the next ascent,
and, looking down,
581 Now at a nearer distance
view the town.
582 The prince with wonder sees
the stately towers,
583 (Which late were huts, and
shepherds' homely bowers,
584 The gates and streets; and
hears, from every part,
585 The noise and busy concourse
of the mart.
586 The toiling Tyrians on each
other call,
587 To ply their labour: some
extend the wall;
588 Some build the citadel; the
brawny throng
589 Or dig, or push unwieldy
stones along.
590 Some for their dwellings
choose a spot of ground,
591 Which, first designed, with
ditches they surround.
592 Some laws ordain; and some
attend the choice
593 Of holy senates, and elect
by voice.
594 Here some design a mole,
while others there
595 Lay deep foundations for a
theatre,
596 From marble quarries mighty
columns hew,
597 For ornaments of scenes, and
future view.
598 Such is their toil, and such
their busy pains,
599 As exercise the bees in
flowery plains,
600 When winter past, and summer
scarce begun,
601 Invites them forth to labour
in the sun;
602 Some lead their youth
abroad, while some condense
603 Their liquid store, and some
in cells dispense;
604 Some at the gate stand ready
to receive
605 The golden burden, and their
friends relieve;
606 All, with united force,
combine to drive
607 The lazy drones from the
laborious hive.
608 With envy stung, they view
each other's deeds;
609 The fragrant work with
diligence proceeds.
610 "Thrice happy you, whose
walls already rise!"
611 Æneas said, and
viewed, with lifted eyes,
612 Their lofty towers: then
entering at the gate,
613 Concealed in clouds
(prodigious to relate),
614 He mixed, unmarked, among
the busy throng,
615 Borne by the tide, and
passed unseen along.
616 Full in the centre of the
town there stood,
617 Thick set with trees, a
venerable wood:
618 The Tyrians, landing near
this holy ground,
619 And digging here, a
prosperous omen found:
620 From under earth a courser's
head they drew,
621 Their growth and future
fortune to foreshew:
622 This fated sign their
foundress Juno gave,
623 Of a soil fruitful, and a
people brave.
624 Sidonian Dido here with
solemn state
625 Did Juno's temple build, and
consecrate,
626 Enriched with gifts, and
with a golden shrine;
627 But more the goddess made
the place divine.
628 On brazen steps the marble
threshold rose,
629 And brazen plates the cedar
beams inclose:
630 The rafters are with brazen
coverings crowned;
631 The lofty doors on brazen
hinges sound.
632 What first Æneas in
this place beheld,
633 Revived his courage, and his
fear expelled.
634 For—while, expecting there
the queen, he raised
635 His wondering eyes, and
round the temple gazed,
636 Admired the fortune of the
rising town,
637 The striving artists, and
their art's renown—
638 He saw, in order painted on
the wall,
639 Whatever did unhappy Troy
befall—
640 The wars that fame around
the world had blown,
641 All to the life, and every
leader known.
642 There Agamemnon, Priam here,
he spies,
643 And fierce Achilles, who
both kings defies.
644 He stopped, and weeping
said,—"O friend! even here
645 The monuments of Trojan woes
appear!
646 Our known disasters fill
even foreign lands:
647 See there, where old unhappy
Priam stands!
648 Even the mute walls relate
the warrior's fame,
649 And Trojan griefs the
Tyrians' pity claim."
650 He said (his tears a ready
passage find),
651 Devouring what he saw so
well designed,
652 And with an empty picture
fed his mind:
653 For there he saw the
fainting Grecians yield,
654 And here the trembling
Trojans quit the field,
655 Pursued by fierce Achilles
through the plain,
656 On his high chariot driving
o'er the slain.
657 The tents of Rhesus next his
grief renew,
658 By their white sails
betrayed to nightly view;
659 And wakeful Diomede, whose
cruel sword
660 The sentries slew, nor
spared their slumbering lord,
661 Then took the fiery steeds,
ere yet the food
662 Of Troy they taste, or drink
the Xanthian flood.
663 Elsewhere he saw where
Troilus defied
664 Achilles, and unequal combat
tried;
665 Then, where the boy
disarmed, with loosened reins,
666 Was by his horses hurried
o'er the plains,
667 Hung by the neck and hair;
and, dragged around,
668 The hostile spear yet
sticking in his wound,
669 With tracks of blood
inscribed the dusty ground.
670 Meantime the Trojan dames,
oppressed with woe,
671 To Pallas' fane in long
procession go,
672 In hopes to reconcile their
heavenly foe.
673 They weep, they beat their
breasts, they rend their hair,
674 And rich embroidered vests
for presents bear;
675 But the stern goddess stands
unmoved with prayer.
676 Thrice round the Trojan
walls Achilles drew
677 The corpse of Hector, whom
in fight he slew.
678 Here Priam sues; and there,
for sums of gold,
679 The lifeless body of his son
is sold.
680 So sad an object, and so
well expressed,
681 Drew sighs and groans from
the grieved hero's breast,
682 To see the figure of his
lifeless friend,
683 And his old sire his
helpless hands extend.
684 Himself he saw amidst the
Grecian train,
685 Mixed in the bloody battle
on the plain;
686 And swarthy Memnon in his
arms he knew,
687 His pompous ensigns, and his
Indian crew.
688 Penthesilea there, with
haughty grace,
689 Leads to the wars an
Amazonian race:
690 In their right hands a
pointed dart they wield;
691 The left, for ward, sustains
the lunar shield.
692 Athwart her breast a golden
belt she throws,
693 Amidst the press alone
provokes a thousand foes,
694 And dares her maiden arms to
manly force oppose.
695 Thus while the Trojan prince
employs his eyes,
696 Fixed on the walls with
wonder and surprise,
697 The beauteous Dido, with a
numerous train,
698 And pomp of guards, ascends
the sacred fane.
699 Such on Eurotas' banks, or
Cynthus' height,
700 Diana seems; and so she
charms the sight,
701 When in the dance the
graceful goddess leads
702 The choir of nymphs, and
overtops their heads.
703 Known by her quiver, and her
lofty mien,
704 She walks majestic, and she
looks their queen:
705 Latona sees her shine above
the rest,
706 And feeds with secret joy
her silent breast.
707 Such Dido was; with such
becoming state,
708 Amidst the crowd, she walks
serenely great.
709 Their labour to her future
sway she speeds,
710 And passing with a gracious
glance proceeds,
711 Then mounts the throne, high
placed before the shrine;
712 In crowds around, the
swarming people join.
713 She takes petitions, and
dispenses laws,
714 Hears and determines every
private cause:
715 Their tasks in equal
portions she divides,
716 And, where unequal, there by
lot decides.
717 Another way by chance
Æneas bends
718 His eyes, and unexpected
sees his friends,
719 Antheus, Sergestus grave,
Cloanthus strong,
720 And at their backs a mighty
Trojan throng,
721 Whom late the tempest on the
billows tossed,
722 And widely scattered on
another coast.
723 The prince, unseen,
surprised with wonder stands,
724 And longs, with joyful
haste, to join their hands:
725 But, doubtful of the wished
event, he stays,
726 And from the hollow cloud
his friends surveys,
727 Impatient till they told
their present state,
728 And where they left their
ships, and what their fate,
729 And why they came, and what
was their request;
730 For these were sent
commissioned by the rest,
731 To sue for leave to land
their sickly men,
732 And gain admission to the
gracious queen.
733 Entering, with cries they
filled the holy fane;
734 Then thus, with lowly voice,
Ilioneus began:—
735 "O queen! indulged by favour
of the gods
736 To found an empire in these
new abodes,
737 To build a town, with
statutes to restrain
738 The wild inhabitants beneath
thy reign—
739 We wretched Trojans, tossed
on every shore,
740 From sea to sea, thy
clemency implore.
741 Forbid the fires our
shipping to deface!
742 Receive the unhappy
fugitives to grace,
743 And spare the remnant of a
pious race!
744 We come not with design of
wasteful prey,
745 To drive the country, force
the swains away:
746 Nor such our strength, nor
such is our desire;
747 The vanquished dare not to
such thoughts aspire.
748 A land there is, Hesperia
named of old—
749 The soil is fruitful, and
the men are bold—
750 The Oenotrians held it
once—by common fame,
751 Now called Italia, from the
leader's name.
752 To that sweet region was our
voyage bent,
753 When winds, and every
warring element,
754 Disturbed our course, and,
far from sight of land,
755 Cast our torn vessels on the
moving sand:
756 The sea came on; the South,
with mighty roar,
757 Dispersed and dashed the
rest upon the rocky shore.
758 Those few you see escaped
the storm, and fear,
759 Unless you interpose, a
shipwreck here.
760 What men, what monsters,
what inhuman race,
761 What laws, what barbarous
customs of the place,
762 Shut up a desert shore to
drowning men,
763 And drive us to the cruel
seas again?
764 If our hard fortune no
compassion draws,
765 Nor hospitable rights, nor
human laws,
766 The gods are just, and will
revenge our cause.
767 Æneas was our
prince—a juster lord,
768 Or nobler warrior, never
drew a sword—
769 Observant of the right,
religious of his word.
770 If yet he lives, and draws
this vital air,
771 Nor we, his friends, of
safety shall despair,
772 Nor you, great queen, these
offices repent,
773 Which he will equal, and
perhaps prevent.
774 We want not cities, nor
Sicilian coasts,
775 Where king Acestes Trojan
lineage boasts.
776 Permit our ships a shelter
on your shores,
777 Refitted from your woods
with planks and oars,
778 That, if our prince be safe,
we may renew
779 Our destined course, and
Italy pursue.
780 But if, O best of men! the
Fates ordain,
781 That thou art swallowed in
the Libyan main,
782 And if our young Iülus
be no more,
783 Dismiss our navy from your
friendly shore,
784 That we to good Acestes may
return,
785 And with our friends our
common losses mourn."
786 Thus spoke Ilioneus: the
Trojan crew
787 With cries and clamours his
request renew.
788 The modest queen a while,
with downcast eyes,
789 Pondered the speech, then
briefly thus replies:—
790 "Trojans! dismiss your
fears; my cruel fate,
791 And doubts attending an
unsettled state,
792 Force me to guard my coast
from foreign foes.
793 Who has not heard the story
of your woes,
794 The name and fortune of your
native place,
795 The fame and valour of the
Phrygian race?
796 We Tyrians are not so devoid
of sense,
797 Nor so remote from Phoebus'
influence.
798 Whether to Latian shores
your course is bent,
799 Or, driven by tempests from
your first intent,
800 You seek the good Acestes'
government,
801 Your men shall be received,
your fleet repaired,
802 And sail, with ships of
convoy for your guard:
803 Or, would you stay, and join
your friendly powers
804 To raise and to defend the
Tyrian towers,
805 My wealth, my city, and
myself, are yours.
806 And would to heaven, the
storm, you felt, would bring
807 On Carthaginian coasts your
wandering king.
808 My people shall, by my
command, explore
809 The ports and creeks of
every winding shore,
810 And towns, and wilds, and
shady woods, in quest
811 Of so renowned and so
desired a guest."
812 Raised in his mind the
Trojan hero stood,
813 And longed to break from out
his ambient cloud;
814 Achates found it, and thus
urged his way:—
815 "From whence, O
goddess-born, this long delay?
816 What more can you desire,
your welcome sure,
817 Your fleet in safety, and
your friend secure?
818 One only wants; and him we
saw in vain
819 Oppose the storm, and
swallowed in the main.
820 Orontes in his fate our
forfeit paid;
821 The rest agrees with what
your mother said."
822 Scarce had he spoken, when
the cloud gave way,
823 The mists flew upward, and
dissolved in day.
824 The Trojan chief appeared in
open sight,
825 August in visage, and
serenely bright.
826 His mother goddess, with her
hands divine,
827 Had formed his curling
locks, and made his temples shine,
828 And given his rolling eyes a
sparkling grace,
829 And breathed a youthful
vigour on his face;
830 Like polished ivory,
beauteous to behold,
831 Or Parian marble, when
enchased in gold;
832 Thus radiant from the
circling cloud he broke,
833 And thus with manly modesty
he spoke:—
834 "He whom you seek am I; by
tempests tossed,
835 And saved from shipwreck on
your Libyan coast;
836 Presenting, gracious queen,
before your throne,
837 A prince that owes his life
to you alone.
838 Fair majesty! the refuge and
redress
839 Of those whom Fate pursues,
and wants oppress!
840 You, who your pious offices
employ
841 To save the reliques of
abandoned Troy;
842 Receive the shipwrecked on
your friendly shore,
843 With hospitable rites
relieve the poor;
844 Associate in your town a
wandering train,
845 And strangers in your palace
entertain.
846 What thanks can wretched
fugitives return,
847 Who, scattered through the
world, in exile mourn?
848 The gods, (if gods to
goodness are inclined—
849 If acts of mercy touch their
heavenly mind),
850 And, more than all the gods,
your generous heart,
851 Conscious of worth, requite
its own desert!
852 In you this age is happy,
and this earth,
853 And parents more than mortal
gave you birth.
854 While rolling rivers into
seas shall run,
855 And round the space of
heaven the radiant sun;
856 While trees the
mountain-tops with shades supply,
857 Your honour, name, and
praise, shall never die.
858 Whate'er abode my fortune
has assigned,
859 Your image shall be present
in my mind."
860 Thus having said, he turned
with pious haste,
861 And joyful his expecting
friends embraced:
862 With his right hand Ilioneus
was graced,
863 Serestus with his left; then
to his breast
864 Cloanthus and the noble Gyas
pressed;
865 And so by turns descended to
the rest.
866 The Tyrian queen stood fixed
upon his face,
867 Pleased with his motions,
ravished with his grace;
868 Admired his fortunes, more
admired the man;
869 Then recollected stood, and
thus began:—
870 "What fate, O goddess-born!
what angry powers
871 Have cast you shipwrecked on
our barren shores?
872 Are you the great
Æneas, known to fame,
873 Who from celestial seed your
lineage claim?
874 The same Æneas, whom
fair Venus bore
875 To famed Anchises on the
Idæan shore?
876 It calls into my mind,
though then a child,
877 When Teucer came, from
Salamis exiled,
878 And sought my father's aid,
to be restored:
879 My father Belus then with
fire and sword
880 Invaded Cyprus, made the
region bare,
881 And, conquering, finished
the successful war.
882 From him the Trojan siege I
understood,
883 The Grecian chiefs, and your
illustrious blood.
884 Your foe himself the Dardan
valour praised,
885 And his own ancestry from
Trojans raised.
886 Enter, my noble guest! and
you shall find,
887 If not a costly welcome, yet
a kind:
888 For I myself, like you, have
been distressed,
889 Till heaven afforded me this
place of rest.
890 Like you, an alien in a land
unknown,
891 I learn to pity woes so like
my own."
892 She said, and to the palace
led her guest,
893 Then offered incense, and
proclaimed a feast.
894 Nor yet less careful for her
absent friends,
895 Twice ten fat oxen to the
ships she sends;
896 Besides a hundred boars, a
hundred lambs,
897 With bleating cries, attend
their milky dams;
898 And jars of generous wine,
and spacious bowls,
899 She gives, to cheer the
sailors' drooping souls.
900 Now purple hangings clothe
the palace walls,
901 And sumptuous feasts are
made in splendid halls:
902 On Tyrian carpets, richly
wrought, they dine;
903 With loads of massy plate
the side-boards shine,
904 And antique vases, all of
gold embossed,
905 (The gold itself inferior to
the cost
906 Of curious work), where on
the sides were seen
907 The fights and figures of
illustrious men,
908 From their first founder to
the present queen.
909 The good Æneas, whose
paternal care
910 Iülus' absence could no
longer bear,
911 Dispatched Achates to the
ships in haste,
912 To give a glad relation of
the past,
913 And, fraught with precious
gifts, to bring the boy,
914 Snatched from the ruins of
unhappy Troy—
915 A robe of tissue, stiff with
golden wire;
916 An upper vest, once Helen's
rich attire,
917 From Argos by the famed
adultress brought,
918 With golden flowers and
winding foliage wrought—
919 Her mother Leda's present,
when she came
920 To ruin Troy, and set the
world on flame;
921 The sceptre Priam's eldest
daughter bore,
922 Her orient necklace, and the
crown she wore
923 Of double texture, glorious
to behold;
924 One order set with gems, and
one with gold.
925 Instructed thus, the wise
Achates goes,
926 And, in his diligence, his
duty shows.
927 But Venus, anxious for her
son's affairs,
928 New counsels tries, and new
designs prepares:
929 That Cupid should assume the
shape and face
930 Of sweet Ascanius, and the
sprightly grace;
931 Should bring the presents,
in her nephew's stead,
932 And in Eliza's veins the
gentle poison shed:
933 For much she feared the
Tyrians, double-tongued,
934 And knew the town to Juno's
care belonged.
935 These thoughts by night her
golden slumbers broke,
936 And thus, alarmed, to winged
Love she spoke:—
937 "My son, my strength, whose
mighty power alone
938 Controls the Thunderer on
his awful throne,
939 To thee thy much-afflicted
mother flies,
940 And on thy succour and thy
faith relies.
941 Thou know'st, my son, how
Jove's revengeful wife,
942 By force and fraud, attempts
thy brother's life;
943 And often hast thou mourned
with me his pains.
944 Him Dido now with
blandishment detains;
945 But I suspect the town where
Juno reigns.
946 For this, 'tis needful to
prevent her art,
947 And fire with love the proud
Phoenician's heart—
948 A love so violent, so
strong, so sure,
949 That neither age can change,
nor art can cure.
950 How this may be performed,
now take my mind:
951 Ascanius, by his father is
designed
952 To come, with presents
laden, from the port,
953 To gratify the queen, and
gain the court.
954 I mean to plunge the boy in
pleasing sleep,
955 And, ravished, in Idalian
bowers to keep,
956 Or high Cythera, that the
sweet deceit
957 May pass unseen, and none
prevent the cheat.
958 Take thou his form and
shape. I beg the grace,
959 But only for a night's
revolving space,
960 Thyself a boy, assume a
boy's dissembled face;
961 That when, amidst the
fervour of the feast,
962 The Tyrian hugs and fonds
thee on her breast,
963 And with sweet kisses in her
arms constrains,
964 Thou may'st infuse thy venom
in her veins."
965 The god of love obeys, and
sets aside
966 His bow and quiver, and his
plumy pride;
967 He walks Iülus in his
mother's sight,
968 And in the sweet resemblance
takes delight.
969 The goddess then to young
Ascanius flies,
970 And in a pleasing slumber
seals his eyes:
971 Lulled in her lap, amidst a
train of Loves,
972 She gently bears him to her
blissful groves,
973 Then with a wreath of myrtle
crowns his head,
974 And softly lays him on a
flowery bed.
975 Cupid meantime assumed his
form and face,
976 Following Achates with a
shorter pace,
977 And brought the gifts. The
queen already sate
978 Amidst the Trojan lords, in
shining state,
979 High on a golden bed: her
princely guest
980 Was next her side; in order sate the
rest.
981 Then canisters with bread
are heaped on high;
982 The attendants water for
their hands supply,
983 And, having washed, with
silken towels dry.
984 Next fifty handmaids in long
order bore
985 The censers, and with fumes
the gods adore:
986 Then youths and virgins,
twice as many, join
987 To place the dishes, and to
serve the wine.
988 The Tyrian train, admitted
to the feast,
989 Approach, and on the painted
couches rest.
990 All on the Trojan gifts with
wonder gaze,
991 But view the beauteous boy
with more amaze,
992 His rosy-coloured cheeks,
his radiant eyes,
993 His motions, voice, and
shape, and all the god's disguise;
994 Nor pass unpraised the vest
and veil divine,
995 Which wandering foliage and
rich flowers entwine.
996 But, far above the rest, the
royal dame,
997 (Already doomed to love's
disastrous flame),
998 With eyes insatiate, and
tumultuous joy,
999 Beholds the presents, and
admires the boy.
1000 The guileful god, about the
hero long,
1001 With children's play, and
false embraces, hung;
1002 Then sought the queen: she
took him to her arms
1003 With greedy pleasure, and
devoured his charms.
1004 Unhappy Dido little thought
what guest,
1005 How dire a god, she drew so
near her breast,
1006 But he, not mindless of his
mother's prayer,
1007 Works in the pliant bosom
of the fair,
1008 And moulds her heart anew,
and blots her former care.
1009 The dead is to the living
love resigned;
1010 And all Æneas enters
in her mind.
1011 Now, when the rage of
hunger was appeased,
1012 The meat removed, and every
guest was pleased,
1013 The golden bowls with
sparkling wine are crowned,
1014 And through the palace
cheerful cries resound.
1015 From gilded roofs depending
lamps display
1016 Nocturnal beams, that
emulate the day.
1017 A golden bowl, that shone
with gems divine,
1018 The queen commanded to be
crowned with wine—
1019 The bowl that Belus used,
and all the Tyrian line.
1020 Then, silence through the
hall proclaimed, she spoke:—
1021 "O hospitable Jove! we thus
invoke,
1022 With solemn rites, thy
sacred name and power;
1023 Bless to both nations this
auspicious hour!
1024 So may the Trojan and the
Tyrian line
1025 In lasting concord from
this day combine.
1026 Thou, Bacchus, god of joys
and friendly cheer,
1027 And gracious Juno, both be
present here!
1028 And you, my lords of Tyre,
your vows address
1029 To heaven with mine, to
ratify the peace."
1030 The goblet then she took,
with nectar crowned
1031 (Sprinkling the first
libations on the ground),
1032 And raised it to her mouth
with sober grace,
1033 Then, sipping, offered to
the next in place.
1034 'Twas Bitias whom she
called—a thirsty soul;
1035 He took the challenge, and
embraced the bowl,
1036 With pleasure swilled the
gold, nor ceased to draw,
1037 Till he the bottom of the
brimmer saw.
1038 The goblet goes around:
Iöpas brought
1039 His golden lyre, and sung
what ancient Atlas taught—
1040 The various labours of the
wandering moon,
1041 And whence proceed the
eclipses of the sun;
1042 The original of men and
beasts; and whence
1043 The rains arise, and fires
their warmth dispense,
1044 And fixed and erring stars
dispose their influence;
1045 What shakes the solid
earth; what cause delays
1046 The summer nights, and
shortens winter days.
1047 With peals of shouts the
Tyrians praise the song;
1048 Those peals are echoed by
the Trojan throng.
1049 The unhappy queen with talk
prolonged the night,
1050 And drank large draughts of
love with vast delight;
1051 Of Priam much inquired, of
Hector more;
1052 Then asked what arms the
swarthy Memnon wore,
1053 What troops he landed on
the Trojan shore;
1054 The steeds of Diomede
varied the discourse,
1055 And fierce Achilles, with
his matchless force;
1056 At length, as Fate and her
ill stars required,
1057 To hear the series of the
war desired.
1058 "Relate at large, my
god-like guest," she said,
1059 "The Grecian stratagems,
the town betrayed:
1060 The fatal issue of so long
a war,
1061 Your flight, your
wanderings, and your woes, declare;
1062 For, since on every sea, on
every coast,
1063 Your men have been
distressed, your navy tossed,
1064 Seven times the sun has
either tropic viewed,
1065 The winter banished, and
the spring renewed."
Dido discovers to her sister her passion for Æneas, and her thoughts of marrying him. She prepares a hunting-match for his entertainment. Juno, by Venus's consent, raises a storm, which separates the hunters, and drives Æneas and Dido into the same cave, where their marriage is supposed to be completed. Jupiter dispatches Mercury to Æneas, to warn him from Carthage. Æneas secretly prepares for his voyage. Dido finds out his design, and, to put a stop to it, makes use of her own and her sister's entreaties, and discovers all the variety of passions that are incident to a neglected lover. When nothing would prevail upon him, she contrives her own death, with which this book concludes.1 But anxious cares already seized the queen;
40 She said: the tears ran
gushing from her eyes,
41 And stopped her speech. Her
sister thus replies:—
42 "O dearer than the vital air
I breathe!
43 Will you to grief your
blooming years bequeathe,
44 Condemned to waste in woes
your lonely life,
45 Without the joys of mother,
or of wife?
46 Think you these tears, this
pompous train of woe,
47 Are known or valued by the
ghosts below?
48 I grant, that, while your
sorrows yet were green,
49 It well became a woman, and a
queen,
50 The vows of Tyrian Princes to
neglect,
51 To scorn Iarbas, and his love
reject,
52 With all the Libyan lords of
mighty name;
53 But will you fight against a
pleasing flame?
54 This little spot of land,
which heaven bestows,
55 On every side is hemmed with
warlike foes;
56 Gætulian cities here
are spread around,
57 And fierce Numidians there
your frontiers bound;
58 Here lies a barren waste of
thirsty land,
59 And there the Syrtes raise
the moving sand;
60 Barcæan troops besiege
the narrow shore,
61 And from the sea Pygmalion
threatens more.
62 Propitious heaven, and
gracious Juno, led
63 This wandering navy to your
needful aid:
64 How will your empire spread,
your city rise,
65 From such a union, and with
such allies!
66 Implore the favour of the
powers above,
67 And leave the conduct of the
rest to love.
68 Continue still your
hospitable way,
69 And still invent occasions of
their stay,
70 Till storms and winter winds
shall cease to threat,
71 And planks and oars repair
their shattered fleet."
72 These words, which from a
friend and sister came,
73 With ease resolved the
scruples of her fame,
74 And added fury to the kindled
flame.
75 Inspired with hope, the
project they pursue;
76 On every altar sacrifice
renew;
77 A chosen ewe of two years old
they pay
78 To Ceres, Bacchus, and the
god of day.
79 Preferring Juno's power (for
Juno ties
80 The nuptial knot, and makes
the marriage-joys),
81 The beauteous queen before
her altar stands,
82 And holds the golden goblet
in her hands.
83 A milk-white heifer she with
flowers adorns,
84 And pours the ruddy wine
betwixt her horns;
85 And, while the priests with
prayer the gods invoke,
86 She feeds their altars with
Sabæan smoke,
87 With hourly care the
sacrifice renews,
88 And anxiously the panting
entrails views.
89 What priestly rites, alas!
what pious art,
90 What vows, avail to cure a
bleeding heart?
91 A gentle fire she feeds
within her veins,
92 Where the soft god secure in
silence reigns.
93 Sick with desire, and seeking
him she loves,
94 From street to street the
raving Dido roves.
95 So, when the watchful
shepherd, from the blind,
96 Wounds with a random shaft
the careless hind,
97 Distracted with her pain she
flies the woods,
98 Bounds o'er the lawn, and
seeks the silent floods—
99 With fruitless care; for
still the fatal dart
100 Sticks in her side, and
rankles in her heart.
101 And now she leads the Trojan
chief along
102 The lofty walls, amidst the
busy throng;
103 Displays her Tyrian wealth,
and rising town,
104 Which love, without his
labour, makes his own.
105 This pomp she shows, to
tempt her wandering guest;
106 Her faltering tongue forbids
to speak the rest.
107 When day declines, and
feasts renew the night,
108 Still on his face she feeds
her famished sight;
109 She longs again to hear the
prince relate
110 His own adventures, and the
Trojan fate.
111 He tells it o'er and o'er;
but still in vain,
112 For still she begs to hear
it once again.
113 The hearer on the speaker's
mouth depends,
114 And thus the tragic story
never ends.
115 Then, when they part, when
Phoebe's paler light
116 Withdraws, and falling stars
to sleep invite,
117 She last remains, when every
guest is gone,
118 Sits on the bed he pressed,
and sighs alone;
119 Absent, her absent hero sees
and hears;
120 Or in her bosom young
Ascanius bears,
121 And seeks the father's image
in the child,
122 If love by likeness might be
so beguiled.
123 Meantime the rising towers
are at a stand;
124 No labours exercise the
youthful band,
125 Nor use of arts, nor toils
of arms they know;
126 The mole is left unfinished
to the foe;
127 The mounds, the works, the
walls, neglected lie,
128 Short of their promised
height, that seemed to threat the sky.
129 But when imperial Juno, from
above,
130 Saw Dido fettered in the
chains of love,
131 Hot with the venom which her
veins inflamed,
132 And by no sense of shame to
be reclaimed,
133 With soothing words to Venus
she begun:—
134 "High praises, endless
honours, you have won,
135 And mighty trophies, with
your worthy son!
136 Two gods a silly woman have
undone!
137 Nor am I ignorant, you both
suspect
138 This rising city, which my
hands erect:
139 But shall celestial discord
never cease?
140 'Tis better ended in a
lasting peace.
141 You stand possessed of all
your soul desired;
142 Poor Dido with consuming
love is fired.
143 Your Trojan with my Tyrian
let us join;
144 So Dido shall be yours,
Æneas mine—
145 One common kingdom, one
united line.
146 Eliza shall a Dardan lord
obey,
147 And lofty Carthage for a
dower convey."
148 Then Venus (who her hidden
fraud descried,
149 Which would the sceptre of
the world misguide
150 To Libyan shores) thus
artfully replied:—
151 "Who, but a fool, would wars
with Juno choose,
152 And such alliance and such
gifts refuse,
153 If Fortune with our joint
desires comply?
154 The doubt is all from Jove,
and destiny;
155 Lest he forbid, with
absolute command,
156 To mix the people in one
common land—
157 Or will the Trojan and the
Tyrian line,
158 In lasting leagues and sure
succession, join.
159 But you, the partner of his
bed and throne,
160 May move his mind; my wishes
are your own."
161 "Mine," said imperial Juno,
"be the care:—
162 Time urges now:—to perfect
this affair,
163 Attend my counsel, and the
secret share.
164 When next the Sun his rising
light displays,
165 And gilds the world below
with purple rays,
166 The queen, Æneas, and
the Tyrian court,
167 Shall to the shady woods,
for sylvan game, resort.
168 There, while the huntsmen
pitch their toils around,
169 And cheerful horns, from
side to side, resound,
170 A pitchy cloud shall cover
all the plain
171 With hail, and thunder, and
tempestuous rain;
172 The fearful train shall take
their speedy flight,
173 Dispersed, and all involved
in gloomy night;
174 One cave a grateful shelter
shall afford
175 To the fair princess and the
Trojan lord.
176 I will myself the bridal bed
prepare,
177 If you, to bless the
nuptials, will be there:
178 So shall their loves be
crowned with due delights,
179 And Hymen shall be present
at the rites."
180 The queen of love consents,
and closely smiles
181 At her vain project, and
discovered wiles.
182 The rosy morn was risen from
the main,
183 And horns and hounds awake
the princely train:
184 They issue early through the
city gate,
185 Where the more wakeful
huntsmen ready wait,
186 With nets, and toils, and
darts, beside the force
187 Of Spartan dogs, and swift
Massylian horse.
188 The Tyrian peers and
officers of state,
189 For the slow queen, in
antechambers wait;
190 Her lofty courser, in the
court below,
191 Who his majestic rider seems
to know,
192 Proud of his purple
trappings, paws the ground,
193 And champs the golden bit,
and spreads the foam around.
194 The queen at length appears:
on either hand,
195 The brawny guards in martial
order stand.
196 A flowered cymar with golden
fringe she wore,
197 And at her back a golden
quiver bore;
198 Her flowing hair a golden
caul restrains,
199 A golden clasp the Tyrian
robe sustains.
200 Then young Ascanius, with a
sprightly grace,
201 Leads on the Trojan youth to
view the chase.
202 But far above the rest in
beauty shines
203 The great Æneas, when
the troop he joins;
204 Like fair Apollo, when he
leaves the frost
205 Of wintery Xanthus, and the
Lycian coast,
206 When to his native Delos he
resorts,
207 Ordains the dances, and
renews the sports;
208 Where painted Scythians,
mixed with Cretan bands,
209 Before the joyful altars
join their hands:
210 Himself, on Cynthus walking,
sees below
211 The merry madness of the
sacred show.
212 Green wreaths of bays his
length of hair inclose;
213 A golden fillet binds his
awful brows;
214 His quiver sounds.—Not
less the prince is seen
215 In manly presence, or in
lofty mien.
216 Now had they reached the
hills, and stormed the seat
217 Of savage beasts, in dens,
their last retreat.
218 The cry pursues the
mountain-goats: they bound
219 From rock to rock, and keep
the craggy ground:
220 Quite otherwise the stags, a
trembling train,
221 In herds unsingled, scour
the dusty plain,
222 And a long chase, in open
view, maintain.
223 The glad Ascanius, as his
courser guides,
224 Spurs through the vale, and
these and those outrides.
225 His horse's flanks and sides
are forced to feel
226 The clanking lash, and
goring of the steel.
227 Impatiently he views the
feeble prey,
228 Wishing some nobler beast to
cross his way,
229 And rather would the tusky
boar attend,
230 Or see the tawny lion
downward bend.
231 Meantime, the gathering
clouds obscure the skies:
232 From pole to pole the forky
lightning flies;
233 The rattling thunders roll;
and Juno pours
234 A wintry deluge down, and
sounding showers.
235 The company, dispersed, to
coverts ride,
236 And seek the homely cots, or
mountain's hollow side.
237 The rapid rains, descending
from the hills,
238 To rolling torrents raise
the creeping rills.
239 The queen and prince, as
Love or Fortune guides,
240 One common cavern in her
bosom hides.
241 Then first the trembling
earth the signal gave,
242 And flashing fires enlighten
all the cave;
243 Hell from below, and Juno
from above,
244 And howling nymphs, were
conscious to their love.
245 From this ill-omen'd hour,
in time arose
246 Debate and death, and all
succeeding woes,
247 The queen, whom sense of
honour could not move,
248 No longer made a secret of
her love,
249 But called it marriage, by
that specious name
250 To veil the crime, and
sanctify the shame.
251 The loud report through
Libyan cities goes.
252 Fame, the great ill, from
small beginnings grows—
253 Swift from the first; and
every moment brings
254 New vigour to her flights,
new pinions to her wings.
255 Soon grows the pigmy to
gigantic size;
256 Her feet on earth, her
forehead in the skies.
257 Enraged against the gods,
revengeful Earth
258 Produced her, last of the
Titanian birth—
259 Swift is her walk, more
swift her winged haste—
260 A monstrous phantom,
horrible and vast.
261 As many plumes as raise her
lofty flight,
262 So many piercing eyes
enlarge her sight;
263 Millions of opening mouths
to Fame belong,
264 And every mouth is furnished
with a tongue,
265 And round with listening
ears the flying plague is hung.
266 She fills the peaceful
universe with cries;
267 No slumbers ever close her
wakeful eyes;
268 By day, from lofty towers
her head she shews,
269 And spreads through
trembling crowds disastrous news;
270 With court informers haunts,
and royal spies;
271 Things done relates, not
done she feigns, and mingles truth with lies.
272 Talk is her business; and
her chief delight
273 To tell of prodigies, and
cause affright.
274 She fills the people's ears
with Dido's name,
275 Who, "lost to honour and the
sense of shame,
276 Admits into her throne and
nuptial bed
277 A wandering guest, who from
his country fled:
278 Whole days with him she
passes in delights,
279 And wastes in luxury long
winter nights,
280 Forgetful of her fame, and
royal trust,
281 Dissolved in ease, abandoned
to her lust."
282 The goddess widely spreads
the loud report,
283 And flies at length to king
Iarbas' court.
284 When first possessed with
this unwelcome news,
285 Whom did he not of men and
gods accuse?
286 This prince, from ravished
Garamantis born,
287 A hundred temples did with
spoils adorn,
288 In Ammon's honour, his
celestial sire;
289 A hundred altars fed with
wakeful fire;
290 And, through his vast
dominions, priests ordained,
291 Whose watchful care these
holy rites maintained.
292 The gates and columns were
with garlands crowned,
293 And blood of victim beasts
enriched the ground.
294 He, when he heard a fugitive
could move
295 The Tyrian princess, who
disdained his love,
296 His breast with fury burned,
his eyes with fire,
297 Mad with despair, impatient
with desire;
298 Then on the sacred altars
pouring wine,
299 He thus with prayers
implored his sire divine:—
300 "Great Jove, propitious to
the Moorish race,
301 Who feast on painted beds,
with offerings grace
302 Thy temples, and adore thy
power divine
303 With blood of victims, and
with sparkling wine!
304 Seest thou not this? or do
we fear in vain
305 Thy boasted thunder, and thy
thoughtless reign?
306 Do thy broad hands the forky
lightnings lance?
307 Thine are the bolts, or the
blind work of chance?
308 A wandering woman builds,
within our state,
309 A little town, bought at an
easy rate;
310 She pays me homage (and my
grants allow
311 A narrow space of Libyan
lands to plough);
312 Yet, scorning me, by passion
blindly led,
313 Admits a banished Trojan to
her bed!
314 And now this other Paris,
with his train
315 Of conquered cowards, must
in Afric reign!
316 (Whom, what they are, their
looks and garb confess,
317 Their locks with oil
perfumed, their Lydian dress.)
318 He takes the spoil, enjoys
the princely dame;
319 And I, rejected I, adore an
empty name!"
320 His vows, in haughty terms,
he thus preferred,
321 And held his altar's horns.
The mighty Thunderer heard,
322 Then cast his eyes on
Carthage, where he found
323 The lustful pair in lawless
pleasure drowned,
324 Lost in their loves,
insensible of shame,
325 And both forgetful of their
better fame.
326 He calls Cyllenius, and the
god attends,
327 By whom this menacing
command he sends:—
328 "Go, mount the western
winds, and cleave the sky;
329 Then, with a swift descent,
to Carthage fly:
330 There find the Trojan chief,
who wastes his days
331 In slothful riot and
inglorious ease,
332 Nor minds the future city,
given by Fate.
333 To him this message from my
mouth relate:—
334 Not so fair Venus hoped,
when twice she won
335 Thy life with prayers, nor
promised such a son.
336 Hers was a hero, destined to
command
337 A martial race, and rule the
Latian land;
338 Who should his ancient line
from Teucer draw,
339 And on the conquered world
impose the law.
340 If glory cannot move a mind
so mean,
341 Nor future praise from
fading pleasure wean,
342 Yet why should he defraud
his son of fame,
343 And grudge the Romans their
immortal name?
344 What are his vain designs?
what hopes he more
345 From his long lingering on a
hostile shore,
346 Regardless to redeem his
honour lost,
347 And for his race to gain the
Ausonian coast?
348 Bid him with speed the
Tyrian court forsake;
349 With this command the
slumbering warrior wake."
350 Hermes obeys; with golden
pinions binds
351 His flying feet, and mounts
the western winds:
352 And, whether o'er the seas
or earth he flies,
353 With rapid force they bear
him down the skies.
354 But first he grasps within
his awful hand
355 The mark of sovereign power,
his magic wand;
356 With this he draws the
ghosts from hollow graves;
357 With this he drives them
down the Stygian waves;
358 With this he seals in sleep
the wakeful sight,
359 And eyes, though closed in
death, restores to light.
360 Thus armed, the god begins
his airy race,
361 And drives the racking
clouds along the liquid space;
362 Now sees the top of Atlas,
as he flies,
363 Whose brawny back supports
the starry skies;
364 Atlas, whose head, with piny
forests crowned,
365 Is beaten by the winds, with
foggy vapours bound.
366 Snows hide his shoulders;
from beneath his chin
367 The founts of rolling
streams their race begin;
368 A beard of ice on his large
breast depends.—
369 Here, poised upon his wings,
the god descends:
370 Then, rested thus, he from
the towering height
371 Plunged downward with
precipitated flight,
372 Lights on the seas, and
skims along the flood.
373 As water-fowl, who seek
their fishy food,
374 Less, and yet less, to
distant prospect show;
375 By turns they dance aloft,
and dive below:
376 Like these, the steerage of
his wings he plies,
377 And near the surface of the
water flies,
378 Till, having passed the
seas, and crossed the sands,
379 He closed his wings, and
stooped on Libyan lands,
380 Where shepherds once were
housed in homely sheds;
381 Now towers within the clouds
advance their heads.
382 Arriving there, he found the
Trojan prince
383 New ramparts raising for the
town's defence.
384 A purple scarf, with gold
embroidered o'er
385 (Queen Dido's gift), about
his waist he wore;
386 A sword, with glittering
gems diversified,
387 For ornament, not use, hung
idly by his side.
388 Then thus, with winged
words, the god began,
389 Resuming his own
shape—"Degenerate man!
390 Thou woman's property! what
mak'st thou here,
391 These foreign walls and
Tyrian towers to rear,
392 Forgetful of thy own?
All-powerful Jove,
393 Who sways the world below
and heaven above,
394 Has sent me down with this
severe command:
395 What means thy lingering in
the Libyan land?
396 If glory cannot move a mind
so mean,
397 Nor future praise from
flitting pleasure wean,
398 Regard the fortunes of thy
rising heir:
399 The promised crown let young
Ascanius wear,
400 To whom the Ausonian
sceptre, and the state
401 Of Rome's imperial name, is
owed by Fate."
402 So spoke the god; and,
speaking, took his flight,
403 Involved in clouds, and
vanished out of sight.
404 The pious prince was seized
with sudden fear;
405 Mute was his tongue, and
upright stood his hair.
406 Revolving in his mind the
stern command,
407 He longs to fly, and loathes
the charming land.
408 What should he say? or how
should he begin?
409 What course, alas! remains
to steer between
410 The offended lover and the
powerful queen?
411 This way, and that, he turns
his anxious mind,
412 And all expedients tries,
and none can find.
413 Fixed on the deed, but
doubtful of the means,
414 After long thought, to this
advice he leans:
415 Three chiefs he calls,
commands them to repair
416 The fleet, and ship their
men, with silent care:
417 Some plausible pretence he
bids them find,
418 To colour what in secret he
designed.
419 Himself, meantime, the
softest hours would choose,
420 Before the love-sick lady
heard the news;
421 And move her tender mind, by
slow degrees,
422 To suffer what the sovereign
power decrees:
423 Jove will inspire him, when,
and what to say.—
424 They hear with pleasure, and
with haste obey.
425 But soon the queen perceives
the thin disguise:
426 (What arts can blind a
jealous woman's eyes?)
427 She was the first to find
the secret fraud,
428 Before the fatal news was
blazed abroad.
429 Love the first motions of
the lover hears,
430 Quick to presage, and even
in safety fears.
431 Nor impious Fame was wanting
to report
432 The ships repaired, the
Trojans' thick resort,
433 And purpose to forsake the
Tyrian court.
434 Frantic with fear, impatient
of the wound,
435 And impotent of mind, she
roves the city round.
436 Less wild the Bacchanalian
dames appear,
437 When, from afar, their
nightly god they hear,
438 And howl about the hills,
and shake the wreathy spear.
439 At length she finds the dear
perfidious man;
440 Prevents his formed excuse,
and thus began:—
441 "Base and ungrateful! could
you hope to fly,
442 And undiscovered 'scape a
lover's eye?
443 Nor could my kindness your
compassion move,
444 Nor plighted vows, nor
dearer bands of love?
445 Or is the death of a
despairing queen
446 Not worth preventing, though
too well foreseen?
447 Even when the wintry winds
command your stay,
448 You dare the tempests, and
defy the sea.
449 False, as you are, suppose
you were not bound
450 To lands unknown, and
foreign coasts to sound;
451 Were Troy restored, and
Priam's happy reign,
452 Now durst you tempt, for
Troy, the raging main?
453 See, whom you fly! am I the
foe you shun?
454 Now, by those holy vows, so
late begun,
455 By this right hand (since I
have nothing more
456 To challenge, but the faith
you gave before),
457 I beg you by these tears too
truly shed,
458 By the new pleasures of our
nuptial bed;
459 If ever Dido, when you most
were kind,
460 Were pleasing in your eyes,
or touched your mind;
461 By these my prayers, if
prayers may yet have place,
462 Pity the fortunes of a
falling race!
463 For you, I have provoked a
tyrant's hate,
464 Incensed the Libyan and the
Tyrian state;
465 For you alone, I suffer in
my fame,
466 Bereft of honour, and
exposed to shame!
467 Whom have I now to trust,
ungrateful guest?
468 (That only name remains of
all the rest!)
469 What have I left? or whither
can I fly?
470 Must I attend Pygmalion's
cruelty,
471 Or till Iarbas shall in
triumph lead
472 A queen, that proudly
scorned his proffered bed?
473 Had you deferred, at least,
your hasty flight,
474 And left behind some pledge
of our delight,
475 Some babe to bless the
mother's mournful sight,
476 Some young Æneas to
supply your place,
477 Whose features might express
his father's face;
478 I should not then complain
to live bereft
479 Of all my husband, or be
wholly left."
480 Here paused the queen.
Unmoved he holds his eyes,
481 By Jove's command; nor
suffered love to rise,
482 Though heaving in his heart;
and thus at length replies:—
483 "Fair queen, you never can
enough repeat
484 Your boundless favours, or I
own my debt;
485 Nor can my mind forget
Eliza's name,
486 While vital breath inspires
this mortal frame.
487 This only let me speak in my
defence—
488 I never hoped a secret
flight from hence,
489 Much less pretended to the
lawful claim
490 Of sacred nuptials, or a
husband's name.
491 For, if indulgent heaven
would leave me free,
492 And not submit my life to
Fate's decree,
493 My choice would lead me to
the Trojan shore,
494 Those relics to review,
their dust adore,
495 And Priam's ruined palace to
restore.
496 But now the Delphian oracle
commands,
497 And Fate invites me to the
Latian lands.
498 That is the promised place
to which I steer,
499 And all my vows are
terminated there.
500 If you, a Tyrian and a
stranger born,
501 With walls and towers a
Libyan town adorn,
502 Why may not we—like you, a
foreign race—
503 Like you, seek shelter in a
foreign place?
504 As often as the night
obscures the skies
505 With humid shades, or
twinkling stars arise,
506 Anchises' angry ghost in
dreams appears,
507 Chides my delay, and fills
my soul with fears;
508 And young Ascanius justly
may complain,
509 Defrauded of his fate and
destined reign.
510 Even now the herald of the
gods appeared—
511 Waking I saw him, and his
message heard.
512 From Jove he came
commissioned, heavenly bright
513 With radiant beams, and
manifest to sight
514 (The sender and the sent I
both attest):
515 These walls he entered, and
those words expressed:—
516 Fair queen, oppose not what
the gods command;
517 Forced by my fate, I leave
your happy land."
518 Thus while he spoke, already
she began,
519 With sparkling eyes, to view
the guilty man;
520 From head to foot surveyed
his person o'er,
521 Nor longer these outrageous
threats forebore:—
522 "False as thou art, and,
more than false, forsworn!
523 Not sprung from noble blood,
nor goddess-born,
524 But hewn from hardened
entrails of a rock!
525 And rough Hyrcanian tigers
gave thee suck!
526 Why should I fawn? what have
I worse to fear?
527 Did he once look, or lent a
listening ear,
528 Sighed when I sobbed, or
shed one kindly tear?
529 All symptoms of a base
ungrateful mind,
530 So foul, that, which is
worse, 'tis hard to find.
531 Of man's injustice why
should I complain?
532 The gods, and Jove himself,
behold in vain
533 Triumphant treason; yet no
thunder flies,
534 Nor Juno views my wrongs
with equal eyes;
535 Faithless is earth, and
faithless are the skies!
536 Justice is fled, and truth
is now no more!
537 I saved the shipwrecked
exile on my shore;
538 With needful food his hungry
Trojans fed;
539 I took the traitor to my
throne and bed:
540 Fool that I was—'tis
little to repeat
541 The rest—I stored and
rigged his ruined fleet.
542 I rave, I rave! A god's
command he pleads,
543 And makes heaven accessory
to his deeds.
544 Now Lycian lots, and now the
Delian god,
545 Now Hermes is employed from
Jove's abode,
546 To warn him hence; as if the
peaceful state
547 Of heavenly powers were
touched with human fate!
548 But go! thy flight no longer
I detain—
549 Go! seek thy promised
kingdom through the main!
550 Yet, if the heavens will
hear my pious vow,
551 The faithless waves, not
half so false as thou,
552 Or secret sands, shall
sepulchres afford
553 To thy proud vessels, and
their perjured lord.
554 Then shalt thou call on
injured Dido's name:
555 Dido shall come in a black
sulphury flame,
556 When death has once
dissolved her mortal frame—
557 Shall smile to see the
traitor vainly weep:
558 Her angry ghost, arising
from the deep,
559 Shall haunt thee waking, and
disturb thy sleep.
560 At least my shade thy
punishment shall know,
561 And Fame shall spread the
pleasing news below."
562 Abruptly here she
stops—then turns away
563 Her loathing eyes, and shuns
the sight of day.
564 Amazed he stood, revolving
in his mind
565 What speech to frame, and
what excuse to find.
566 Her fearful maids their
fainting mistress led,
567 And softly laid her on her
ivory bed.
568 But good Æneas, though
he much desired
569 To give that pity which her
grief required—
570 Though much he mourned, and
laboured with his love—
571 Resolved at length, obeys
the will of Jove;
572 Reviews his forces: they
with early care
573 Unmoor their vessels, and
for sea prepare.
574 The fleet is soon afloat, in
all its pride,
575 And well-caulked galleys in
the harbour ride.
576 Then oaks for oars they
felled; or, as they stood,
577 Of its green arms despoiled
the growing wood,
578 Studious of flight. The
beach is covered o'er
579 With Trojan bands, that
blacken all the shore:
580 On every side are seen,
descending down,
581 Thick swarms of soldiers,
loaden from the town.
582 Thus, in battalia, march
embodied ants,
583 Fearful of winter, and of
future wants,
584 To invade the corn, and to
their cells convey
585 The plundered forage of
their yellow prey.
586 The sable troops, along the
narrow tracks,
587 Scarce bear the weighty
burden on their backs:
588 Some set their shoulders to
the ponderous grain;
589 Some guard the spoil; some
lash the lagging train;
590 All ply their several tasks,
and equal toil sustain.
591 What pangs the tender breast
of Dido tore,
592 When, from the tower, she
saw the covered shore,
593 And heard the shouts of
sailors from afar,
594 Mixed with the murmurs of
the watery war!
595 All-powerful Love! what
changes canst thou cause
596 In human hearts, subjected
to thy laws!
597 Once more her haughty soul
the tyrant bends:
598 To prayers and mean
submissions she descends.
599 No female arts or aids she
left untried,
600 Nor counsels unexplored,
before she died.
601 "Look, Anna! look! the
Trojans crowd to sea;
602 They spread their canvas,
and their anchors weigh.
603 The shouting crew their
ships with garlands bind,
604 Invoke the sea-gods, and
invite the wind.
605 Could I have thought this
threatening blow so near,
606 My tender soul had been
forewarned to bear.
607 But do not you my last
request deny;
608 With yon perfidious man your
interest try,
609 And bring me news, if I must
live or die.
610 You are his favourite; you
alone can find
611 The dark recesses of his
inmost mind:
612 In all his trusted secrets
you have part,
613 And know the soft approaches
to his heart.
614 Haste then, and humbly seek
my haughty foe;
615 Tell him, I did not with the
Grecians go,
616 Nor did my fleet against his
friends employ,
617 Nor swore the ruin of
unhappy Troy,
618 Nor moved with hands profane
his father's dust:
619 Why should he then reject a
suit so just?
620 Whom does he shun? and
whither would he fly?
621 Can he this last, this only
prayer deny?
622 Let him at least his
dangerous flight delay,
623 Wait better winds, and hope
a calmer sea.
624 The nuptials he disclaims, I
urge no more:
625 Let him pursue the promised
Latian shore.
626 A short delay is all I ask
him now—
627 A pause of grief, an
interval from woe,
628 Till my soft soul be
tempered to sustain
629 Accustomed sorrows, and
inured to pain.
630 If you in pity grant this
one request,
631 My death shall glut the
hatred of his breast."
632 This mournful message pious
Anna bears,
633 And seconds, with her own,
her sister's tears:
634 But all her arts are still
employed in vain;
635 Again she comes, and is
refused again.
636 His hardened heart nor
prayers nor threatenings move;
637 Fate, and the god, had
stopped his ears to love.
638 As, when the winds their
airy quarrel try,
639 Jostling from every quarter
of the sky,
640 This way and that the
mountain oak they bend,
641 His boughs they shatter, and
his branches rend;
642 With leaves and falling mast
they spread the ground;
643 The hollow valleys echo to
the sound:
644 Unmoved, the royal plant
their fury mocks,
645 Or, shaken, clings more
closely to the rocks;
646 Far as he shoots his
towering head on high,
647 So deep in earth his fixed
foundations lie.—
648 No less a storm the Trojan
hero bears;
649 Thick messages and loud
complaints he hears,
650 And bandied words, still
beating on his ears.
651 Sighs, groans, and tears,
proclaim his inward pains;
652 But the firm purpose of his
heart remains.
653 The wretched queen, pursued
by cruel Fate,
654 Begins at length the light
of heaven to hate,
655 And loathes to live. Then
dire portents she sees,
656 To hasten on the death her
soul decrees—
657 Strange to relate! for when,
before the shrine,
658 She pours in sacrifice the
purple wine,
659 The purple wine is turned to
putrid blood,
660 And the white offered milk
converts to mud.
661 This dire presage, to her
alone revealed,
662 From all, and even her
sister, she concealed.
663 A marble temple stood within
the grove,
664 Sacred to death, and to her
murdered love;
665 That honoured chapel she had
hung around
666 With snowy fleeces, and with
garlands crowned:
667 Oft, when she visited this
lonely dome,
668 Strange voices issued from
her husband's tomb:
669 She thought she heard him
summon her away,
670 Invite her to his grave, and
chide her stay.
671 Hourly 'tis heard, when with
a boding note
672 The solitary screech-owl
strains her throat,
673 And, on a chimney's top, or
turret's height,
674 With songs obscene, disturbs
the silence of the night.
675 Besides, old prophecies
augment her fears;
676 And stern Æneas in her
dreams appears,
677 Disdainful as by day: she
seems, alone,
678 To wander in her sleep,
through ways unknown,
679 Guideless and dark; or, in a
desert plain,
680 To seek her subjects, and to
seek in vain—
681 Like Pentheus, when,
distracted with his fear,
682 He saw two suns, and double
Thebes, appear;
683 Or mad Orestes, when his
mother's ghost
684 Full in his face infernal
torches tossed,
685 And shook her snaky locks:
he shuns the sight,
686 Flies o'er the stage,
surprised with mortal fright;
687 The Furies guard the door,
and intercept his flight.
688 Now, sinking underneath a
load of grief,
689 From death alone she seeks
her last relief;
690 The time and means resolved
within her breast,
691 She to her mournful sister
thus addressed:—
692 (Dissembling hope, her
cloudy front she clears,
693 And a false vigour in her
eyes appears)
694 "Rejoice!" she said.
"Instructed from above,
695 My lover I shall gain, or
lose my love.
696 Nigh rising Atlas, next the
falling sun,
697 Long tracts of Ethiopian
climates run:
698 There a Massylian priestess
I have found,
699 Honoured for age, for magic
arts renowned:
700 The Hesperian temple was her
trusted care;
701 'Twas she supplied the
wakeful dragon's fare.
702 She poppy-seeds in honey
taught to steep,
703 Reclaimed his rage, and
soothed him into sleep:
704 She watched the golden
fruit. Her charms unbind
705 The chains of love, or fix
them on the mind;
706 She stops the torrents,
leaves the channel dry,
707 Repels the stars, and
backward bears the sky.
708 The yawning earth rebellows
to her call,
709 Pale ghosts ascend, and
mountain ashes fall.
710 Witness, ye gods, and thou
my better part,
711 How loth I am to try this
impious art!
712 Within the secret court,
with silent care,
713 Erect a lofty pile, exposed
in air:
714 Hang, on the topmost part,
the Trojan vest,
715 Spoils, arms, and presents,
of my faithless guest.
716 Next, under these, the
bridal bed be placed,
717 Where I my ruin in his arms
embraced.
718 All relics of the wretch are
doomed to fire;
719 For so the priestess and her
charms require."
720 Thus far she said, and
further speech forbears.
721 A mortal paleness in her
face appears:
722 Yet the mistrustless Anna
could not find
723 The secret funeral, in these
rites designed;
724 Nor thought so dire a rage
possessed her mind.
725 Unknowing of a train
concealed so well,
726 She feared no worse than
when Sichæus fell;
727 Therefore obeys. The fatal
pile they rear,
728 Within the secret court,
exposed in air.
729 The cloven holms and pines
are heaped on high,
730 And garlands on the hollow
spaces lie.
731 Sad cypress, vervain, yew,
compose the wreath,
732 And every baleful green
denoting death.
733 The queen, determined to the
fatal deed,
734 The spoils and sword he
left, in order spread,
735 And the man's image on the
nuptial bed.
736 And now (the sacred altars
placed around)
737 The priestess enters, with
her hair unbound,
738 And thrice invokes the power
below the ground.
739 Night, Erebus, and Chaos,
she proclaims,
740 And threefold Hecate, with
her hundred names,
741 And three Dianas: next, she
sprinkles round,
742 With feigned Avernian drops,
the hallowed ground;
743 Culls hoary simples, found
by Phoebe's light,
744 With brazen sickles reaped
at noon of night;
745 Then mixes baleful juices in
the bowl,
746 And cuts the forehead of a
new-born foal,
747 Robbing the mother's
love.—The destined queen
748 Observes, assisting at the
rites obscene:
749 A leavened cake in her
devoted hands
750 She holds, and next the
highest altar stands:
751 One tender foot was shod,
her other bare,
752 Girt was her gathered gown,
and loose her hair.
753 Thus dressed, she summoned,
with her dying breath,
754 The heavens and planets
conscious of her death,
755 And every power, if any
rules above,
756 Who minds, or who revenges,
injured love.
757 'Twas dead of night, when
weary bodies close
758 Their eyes in balmy sleep,
and soft repose:
759 The winds no longer whisper
through the woods,
760 Nor murmuring tides disturb
the gentle floods.
761 The stars in silent order
moved around;
762 And Peace, with downy wings,
was brooding on the ground.
763 The flocks and herds, and
party-coloured fowl,
764 Which haunt the woods, or
swim the weedy pool,
765 Stretched on the quiet
earth, securely lay,
766 Forgetting the past labours
of the day.
767 All else of nature's common
gift partake:
768 Unhappy Dido was alone
awake.
769 Nor sleep nor ease the
furious queen can find;
770 Sleep fled her eyes, as
quiet fled her mind.
771 Despair, and rage, and love,
divide her heart;
772 Despair and rage had some,
but love the greater part.
773 Then thus she said within
her secret mind:—
774 "What shall I do? what
succour can I find?
775 Become a suppliant to
Iarbas' pride,
776 And take my turn to court,
and be denied?
777 Shall I with this ungrateful
Trojan go,
778 Forsake an empire, and
attend a foe?
779 Himself I refuged, and his
train relieved—
780 'Tis true—but am I sure to
be received?
781 Can gratitude in Trojan
souls have place?
782 Laomedon still lives in all
his race!
783 Then, shall I seek alone the
churlish crew,
784 Or with my fleet their
flying sails pursue?
785 What force have I but those,
whom scarce before
786 I drew reluctant from their
native shore?
787 Will they again embark at my
desire,
788 Once more sustain the seas,
and quit their second Tyre?
789 Rather with steel thy guilty
breast invade,
790 And take the fortune thou
thyself hast made.
791 Your pity, sister, first
seduced my mind,
792 Or seconded too well what I
designed.
793 These dear-bought pleasures
had I never known,
794 Had I continued free, and
still my own—
795 Avoiding love, I had not
found despair,
796 But shared with savage
beasts the common air.
797 Like them, a lonely life I
might have led,
798 Not mourned the living, nor
disturbed the dead."
799 These thoughts she brooded
in her anxious breast.—
800 On board, the Trojan found
more easy rest.
801 Resolved to sail, in sleep
he passed the night;
802 And ordered all things for
his early flight.
803 To whom once more the winged
god appears;
804 His former youthful mien and
shape he wears,
805 And with this new alarm
invades his ears:—
806 "Sleep'st thou, O
goddess-born? and canst thou drown
807 Thy needful cares, so near a
hostile town,
808 Beset with foes; nor hear'st
the western gales
809 Invite thy passage, and
inspire thy sails?
810 She harbours in her heart a
furious hate,
811 And thou shalt find the dire
effects too late;
812 Fixed on revenge, and
obstinate to die.
813 Haste swiftly hence, while
thou hast power to fly.
814 The sea with ships will soon
be covered o'er,
815 And blazing firebrands
kindle all the shore.
816 Prevent her rage, while
night obscures the skies,
817 And sail before the purple
morn arise.
818 Who knows what hazards thy
delay may bring?
819 Woman's a various and a
changeful thing."—
820 Thus Hermes in the dream;
then took his flight
821 Aloft in air unseen, and
mixed with night.
822 Twice warned by the
celestial messenger,
823 The pious prince arose with
hasty fear;
824 Then roused his drowsy train
without delay:
825 "Haste to your banks! your
crooked anchors weigh,
826 And spread your flying
sails, and stand to sea!
827 A god commands: he stood
before my sight,
828 And urged us once again to
speedy flight.
829 O sacred power! what power
soe'er thou art,
830 To thy blessed orders I
resign my heart.
831 Lead thou the way; protect
thy Trojan bands,
832 And prosper the design thy
will commands."—
833 He said; and, drawing forth
his flaming sword,
834 His thundering arm divides
the many-twisted cord.
835 An emulating zeal inspires
his train:
836 They run; they snatch; they
rush into the main.
837 With headlong haste they
leave the desert shores,
838 And brush the liquid seas
with labouring oars.
839 Aurora now had left her
saffron bed,
840 And beams of early light the
heavens o'erspread,
841 When, from a tower, the
queen, with wakeful eyes,
842 Saw day point upward from
the rosy skies.
843 She looked to seaward; but
the sea was void,
844 And scarce in ken the
sailing ships descried.
845 Stung with despite, and
furious with despair,
846 She struck her trembling
breast, and tore her hair.
847 "And shall the ungrateful
traitor go" (she said),
848 "My land forsaken, and my
love betrayed?
849 Shall we not arm? not rush
from every street,
850 To follow, sink, and burn,
his perjured fleet?
851 Haste, haul my galleys out!
pursue the foe!
852 Bring flaming brands! set
sail, and swiftly row!—
853 What have I said? where am
I? Fury turns
854 My brain; and my distempered
bosom burns.
855 Then, when I gave my person
and my throne,
856 This hate, this rage, had
been more timely shown.
857 See now the promised faith,
the vaunted name,
858 The pious man, who, rushing
through the flame,
859 Preserved his gods, and to
the Phrygian shore
860 The burden of his feeble
father bore!
861 I should have torn him
piece-meal—strewed in floods
862 His scattered limbs, or left
exposed in woods—
863 Destroyed his friends, and
son; and, from the fire,
864 Have set the reeking boy
before the sire.
865 Events are doubtful, which
on battle wait:
866 Yet where's the doubt, to
souls secure of fate?
867 My Tyrians, at their injured
queen's command,
868 Had tossed their fires amid
the Trojan band;
869 At once extinguished all the
faithless name;
870 And I myself, in vengeance
of my shame,
871 Had fallen upon the pile, to
mend the funeral flame.
872 Thou Sun, who view'st at
once the world below!
873 Thou Juno, guardian of the
nuptial vow!
874 Thou Hecate, hearken from
thy dark abodes!
875 Ye Furies, Fiends, and
violated Gods!
876 All powers invoked with
Dido's dying breath,
877 Attend her curses and avenge
her death!
878 If so the Fates ordain, and
Jove commands,
879 The ungrateful wretch should
find the Latian lands,
880 Yet let a race untamed, and
haughty foes,
881 His peaceful entrance with
dire arms oppose:
882 Oppressed with numbers in
the unequal field,
883 His men discouraged, and
himself expelled,
884 Let him for succour sue from
place to place,
885 Torn from his subjects, and
his son's embrace.
886 First, let him see his
friends in battle slain,
887 And their untimely fate
lament in vain:
888 And when, at length, the
cruel war shall cease,
889 On hard conditions may he
buy his peace:
890 Nor let him then enjoy
supreme command;
891 But fall, untimely, by some
hostile hand,
892 And lie unburied on the
barren sand!
893 These are my prayers, and
this my dying will;
894 And you, my Tyrians, every
curse fulfil.
895 Perpetual hate, and mortal
wars proclaim,
896 Against the prince, the
people, and the name.
897 These grateful offerings on
my grave bestow;
898 Nor league, nor love, the
hostile nations know!
899 Now, and from hence, in
every future age,
900 When rage excites your arms,
and strength supplies the rage,
901 Rise some avenger of our
Libyan blood,
902 With fire and sword pursue
the perjured brood;
903 Our arms, our seas, our
shores, opposed to theirs;
904 And the same hate descend on
all our heirs!"
905 This said, within her
anxious mind she weighs
906 The means of cutting short
her odious days.
907 Then to Sichæus' nurse
she briefly said
908 (For, when she left her
country, hers was dead),
909 "Go, Barce, call my sister.
Let her care
910 The solemn rites of
sacrifice prepare
911 The sheep, and all the
atoning offerings, bring;
912 Sprinkling her body from the
crystal spring
913 With living drops; then let
her come, and thou
914 With sacred fillets bind thy
hoary brow.
915 Thus will I pay my vows to
Stygian Jove,
916 And end the cares of my
disastrous love;
917 Then cast the Trojan image
on the fire,
918 And, as that burns, my
passion shall expire."
919 The nurse moves onward with
officious care,
920 And all the speed her aged
limbs can bear.
921 But furious Dido, with dark
thoughts involved,
922 Shook at the mighty mischief
she resolved.
923 With livid spots
distinguished was her face;
924 Red were her rolling eyes,
and discomposed her pace;
925 Ghastly she gazed, with pain
she drew her breath,
926 And nature shivered at
approaching death.
927 Then swiftly to the fatal
place she passed,
928 And mounts the funeral pile
with furious haste;
929 Unsheathes the sword the
Trojan left behind
930 (Not for so dire an
enterprise designed).
931 But when she viewed the
garments loosely spread,
932 Which once he wore, and saw
the conscious bed,
933 She paused, and, with a
sigh, the robes embraced,
934 Then on the couch her
trembling body cast,
935 Repressed the ready tears,
and spoke her last:—
936 "Dear pledges of my love,
while heaven so pleased,
937 Receive a soul, of mortal
anguish eased.
938 My fatal course is finished;
and I go,
939 A glorious name, among the
ghosts below.
940 A lofty city by my hands is
raised;
941 Pygmalion punished, and my
lord appeased.
942 What could my fortune have
afforded more,
943 Had the false Trojan never
touched my shore?"
944 Then kissed the couch; and
"Must I die," she said,
945 "And unrevenged? 'tis doubly
to be dead!
946 Yet even this death with
pleasure I receive:
947 On any terms, 'tis better
than to live.
948 These flames, from far, may
the false Trojan view;
949 These boding omens his base
flight pursue!"
950 She said, and struck; deep
entered in her side
951 The piercing steel, with
reeking purple dyed:
952 Clogged in the wound the
cruel weapon stands;
953 The spouting blood came
streaming on her hands.
954 Her sad attendants saw the
deadly stroke,
955 And with loud cries the
sounding palace shook.
956 Distracted, from the fatal
sight they fled,
957 And through the town the
dismal rumour spread.
958 First, from the frighted
court the yell began;
959 Redoubled, thence from house
to house it ran:
960 The groans of men, with
shrieks, laments, and cries
961 Of mixing women, mount the
vaulted skies.
962 Not less the clamour, than
if—ancient Tyre,
963 Or the new Carthage, set by
foes on fire—
964 The rolling ruin, with their
loved abodes,
965 Involved the blazing temples
of their gods.
966 Her sister hears; and,
furious with despair,
967 She beats her breast, and
rends her yellow hair,
968 And, calling on Eliza's name
aloud,
969 Runs breathless to the
place, and breaks the crowd.
970 "Was all that pomp of woe
for this prepared,
971 These fires, this funeral
pile, these altars reared?
972 Was all this train of plots
contrived" (said she),
973 "All only to deceive unhappy
me?
974 Which is the worst? Didst
thou in death pretend
975 To scorn thy sister, or
delude thy friend?
976 Thy summoned sister, and thy
friend, had come;
977 One sword had served us
both, one common tomb:
978 Was I to raise the pile, the
powers invoke,
979 Not to be present at the
fatal stroke?
980 At once thou hast destroyed
thyself and me,
981 Thy town, thy senate, and
thy colony!
982 Bring water! bathe the
wound; while I in death
983 Lay close my lips to hers,
and catch the flying breath."
984 This said, she mounts the
pile with eager haste,
985 And in her arms the gasping
queen embraced;
986 Her temples chafed; and her
own garments tore,
987 To stanch the streaming
blood, and cleanse the gore.
988 Thrice Dido tried to raise
her drooping head,
989 And, fainting, thrice fell
grovelling on the bed;
990 Thrice oped her heavy eyes,
and sought the light,
991 But, having found it,
sickened at the sight,
992 And closed her lids at last
in endless night.
993 Then Juno, grieving that she
should sustain
994 A death so lingering, and so
full of pain,
995 Sent Iris down, to free her
from the strife
996 Of labouring nature, and
dissolve her life.
997 For, since she died, not
doomed by heaven's decree,
998 Or her own crime, but human
casualty,
999 And rage of love, that
plunged her in despair,
1000 The Sisters had not cut the
topmost hair,
1001 Which Proserpine and they
can only know;
1002 Nor made her sacred to the
shades below.—
1003 Downward the various
goddess took her flight,
1004 And drew a thousand colours
from the light;
1005 Then stood above the dying
lover's head,
1006 And said, "I thus devote
thee to the dead.
1007 This offering to the
infernal gods I bear."
1008 Thus while she spoke, she
cut the fatal hair:
1009 The struggling soul was
loosed, and life dissolved in air.