To this one error I might yield again;
For since Sichæus was untimely slain,
This only man is able to subvert
The fixed foundations of my stubborn heart;
And to confess my frailty, to my shame,
Somewhat I find within, if not the same,
Too like the sparkles of my former flame.
"But first let yawning earth a passage rend,
And let me through the dark abyss descend;
First let avenging Jove, with flames from high,
Drive down this body to the nether sky,
Condemned with ghosts in endless night to lie,
Before I break the plighted faith I gave.
No; he who had my vows shall ever have,
For whom I loved on earth I worship in the grave."
She said. The tears ran gushing from her eyes, And stopped her speech. Her sister thus replies : "O dearer than the vital air I breathe,
Will you to grief your blooming years bequeath? Condemned to waste in woes your lonely life, Without the joys of mother or of wife.
Think you these tears, this pompous train of woe,
Are known or valued by the ghosts below?
I grant that, while your sorrows yet were green,
It well became a woman and a queen
The vows of Tyrian princes to neglect,
To scorn Iarbas and his love reject;
With all the Libyan lords of mighty name;
But will you fight against a pleasing flame?
This little spot of land, which Heaven bestows,
On every side is hemmed with warlike foes;
Getulian cities here are spread around,
And fierce Numidians there your frontiers bound;
Here lies a barren waste of thirsty land,
And there the Syrtes raise the moving sand;
Barcæan troops besiege the narrow shore,
And from the sea Pygmalion threatens more.
Propitious Heaven and gracious Juno lead
This wandering navy to your needful aid;
How will your empire spread, your city rise
From such an union, and with such allies!
Implore the favour of the powers above,
And leave the conduct of the rest to love;
Continue still your hospitable way,
And still invent occasions of their stay;
Till storms and winter winds shall cease to threat, And planks and oars repair their shattered fleet."
These words, which from a friend and sister came,
With ease resolved the scruples of her fame,
And added fury to the kindled flame;
Inspired with hope, the project they pursue,
On every altar sacrifice renew;
A chosen ewe of two years old they pay
To Ceres, Bacchus, and the God of Day;
Preferring Juno's power, for Juno ties
The nuptial knot, and makes the marriage joys.
The beauteous Queen before her altar stands,
And holds the golden goblet in her hands;
A milk-white heifer she with flowers adorns,
And pours the ruddy wine betwixt her horns;
And while the priests with prayer the gods invoke
She feeds their altars with Sabæan smoke;
With hourly care the sacrifice renews,
And anxiously the panting entrails views.
What priestly rites, alas, what pious art,
What vows avail to cure a bleeding heart?
A gentle fire she feeds within her veins,
Where the soft god secure in silence reigns.
Sick with desire, and seeking him she loves,
From street to street the raving Dido roves.
So when the watchful shepherd, from the blind,
Wounds with a random shaft the careless hind,
Distracted with her pain she flies the woods,
Bounds o'er the lawn, and seeks the silent floods,
With fruitless care, for still the fatal dart
Sticks in her side and rankles in her heart.
And now she leads the Trojan chief along
The lofty walls, amidst the busy throng;
Displays her Tyrian wealth and rising town,
Which love, without his labour, makes his own.
This pomp she shows to tempt her wandering guest,
Her faltering tongue forbids to speak the rest.
When day declines, and feasts renew the night,
Still on his face she feeds her famished sight;
She longs again to hear the prince relate
His own adventures and the Trojan fate :
He tells it o'er and o'er, but still in vain,
For still she begs to hear it once again;
The hearer on the speaker's mouth depends,
And thus the tragic story never ends.
Then, when they part, when Phoebe's paler light
Withdraws, and falling stars to sleep invite,
She last remains. When every guest is gone,
Sits on the bed he pressed, and sighs alone:
Absent, her absent hero sees and hears,
Or in her bosom young Ascanius bears,
And seeks the father's image in the child,
If love by likeness might be so beguiled.
Meantime the rising towers are at a stand,
No labours exercise the youthful band;
Nor use of arts, nor toils of arms they know,
The mole is left unfinished to the foe;
The mour.ds, the works, the walls neglected lie,
Short of their promised height that seemed to threat the sky.
But when imperial Juno from above
Saw Dido fettered in the chains of love,
Hot with the venom which her veins inflamed,
And by no sense of shame to be reclaimed,
With soothing words to Venus she began :
High praises, endless honours, you have won,
And mighty trophies with your worthy son :
Two gods a silly woman have undone.
Nor am I ignorant you both suspect
This rising city which my hands erect.
But shall celestial discord never cease?
'Tis better ended in a lasting peace.
You stand possessed of all your soul desired;
Poor Dido with consuming love is fired.
Your Trojan with my Tyrian let us join,
So Dido shall be yours, Æneas mine-
One common kingdom, one united line.
Eliza shall a Dardan lord obey,
And lofty Carthage for a dower convey."
Then Venus, who her hidden fraud descried
(Which would the sceptre of the world misguide
To Libyan shores), thus artfully replied:
"Who but a fool would wars with Juno choose,
And such alliance and such gifts refuse?
If fortune with our joint desires comply,
The doubt is all from Jove and destiny,
Lest he forbid, with absolute command,
To mix the people in one common land.
Or will the Trojan and the Tyrian line
In lasting leagues and sure succession join?
But
you, the partner of his bed and throne,
May move his mind; my wishes are your own."
"Mine," said imperial Juno, "be the care,
Time urges now to perfect this affair ;
Attend my counsel, and the secret share.
When next the sun his rising light displays,
And gilds the world below with purple rays,
The Queen, Æneas, and the Tyrian court
Shall to the shady woods for sylvan game resort;
There, while the huntsmen pitch their toils around,
And cheerful horns from side to side resound,
A pitchy cloud shall cover all the plain
With hail and thunder and tempestuous rain ;
The fearful train shall take their speedy flight,
Dispersed, and all involved in gloomy night;
One cave a grateful shelter shall afford
To the fair princess and the Trojan lord :
I will myself the bridal bed prepare,
If you, to bless the nuptials, will be there ;
So shall their loves be crowned with due delights,
And Hymen shall be present at the rites."
The Queen of Love consents, and closely smiles
At her vain project and discovered wiles.
The rosy morn was risen from the main,
And horns and hounds awake the princely train;
They issue early through the city gate,
Where the more wakeful huntsmen ready wait,
With nets, and toils, and darts, beside the force
Of Spartan dogs and swift Massylian horse.
The Tyrian peers and officers of state
For the slow Queen in ante-chambers wait;
Her lofty courser in the court below
(Who his majestic rider seems to know),
Proud of his purple trappings, paws the ground,
And champs the golden bit, and spreads the foam around. The Queen at length appears on either hand
The brawny guards in martial order stand:
A flowered cymarr, with golden fringe, she wore,
And at her back a golden quiver bore;
Her flowing hair a golden caul restrains;
A golden clasp the Tyrian robe sustains.
Then young Ascanius, with a sprightly grace,
Leads on the Trojan youth to view the chase.
But far above the rest in beauty shines
The great Æneas, when the troop he joins :
Like fair Apollo, when he leaves the frost
Of wintry Xanthus, and the Lycian coast,
When to his native Delos he resorts,
Ordains the dances, and renews the sports,
Where painted Scythians, mixed with Cretan bands,
Before the joyful altars join their hands.
Himself, on Cynthus walking, sees below
The merry madness of the sacred show.
Green wreaths of bays his length of hair inclose,
A golden fillet binds his awful brows;
His quiver sounds, not less the prince is seen
In manly presence or in lofty mien.
Now had they reached the hills, and stormed the seat
Of savage beasts in dens, their last retreat.
The cry pursues the mountain goats; they bound
From rock to rock, and keep the craggy ground;
Quite otherwise, the stags, a trembling train,
In herds unsingled, scour the dusty plain,
And a long chase in open view maintain.
The glad Ascanius, as his courser guides,
Spurs through the vale, and these and those outrides;
His horse's flanks and sides are forced to feel
The clanking lash and goring of the steel;
Impatiently he views the feeble prey,
Wishing some nobler beast to cross his way,
And rather would the tusky boar attend,
Or see the tawny lion downward bend.
Meantime the gathering clouds obscure the skies, From pole to pole the forky lightning flies;
The rattling thunders roll, and Juno pours
A wintry deluge down, and sounding showers;
The company dispersed to coverts ride,
And seek the homely cots or mountain's hollow side : The rapid rains descending from the hills
To rolling torrents raise the creeping rills.
The Queen and Prince, as love or fortune guides,
One common cavern in her bosom hides.
Then first the trembling earth the signal gave,
And flashing fires enlighten all the cave;
Hell from below, and Juno from above,
And howling nymphs, were conscious to their love.
From this ill-omened hour in time arose
Debate and death and all succeeding woes.
The Queen, whom sense of honour could not move,
No longer made a secret of her love,
But called it marriage, by that specious name
To veil the crime and sanctify the shame.
The loud report through Libyan cities goes; Fame, the great ill, from small beginnings grows;
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