Aeneid

in sylvan shades unhappy Dido gives

for her Aeneas, when to-morrow's dawn

uplifts its earliest ray and Titan's beam

shall first unveil the world. But I will pour

black storm-clouds with a burst of heavy hail

along their way; and as the huntsmen speed

to hem the wood with snares, I will arouse

all heaven with thunder. The attending train

shall scatter and be veiled in blinding dark,

while Dido and her hero out of Troy

to the same cavern fly. My auspices

I will declare—if thou alike wilt bless;

and yield her in true wedlock for his bride.

Such shall their spousal be!” To Juno's will

Cythera's Queen inclined assenting brow,

and laughed such guile to see. Aurora rose,

and left the ocean's rim. The city's gates

pour forth to greet the morn a gallant train

of huntsmen, bearing many a woven snare

and steel-tipped javelin; while to and fro

run the keen-scented dogs and Libyan squires.

The Queen still keeps her chamber; at her doors

the Punic lords await; her palfrey, brave

in gold and purple housing, paws the ground

and fiercely champs the foam-flecked bridle-rein.

At last, with numerous escort, forth she shines:

her Tyrian pall is bordered in bright hues,

her quiver, gold; her tresses are confined

only with gold; her robes of purple rare

meet in a golden clasp. To greet her come

the noble Phrygian guests; among them smiles

the boy Iulus; and in fair array

Aeneas, goodliest of all his train.

In such a guise Apollo (when he leaves

cold Lycian hills and Xanthus' frosty stream

to visit Delos to Latona dear)

ordains the song, while round his altars cry

the choirs of many islands, with the pied,

fantastic Agathyrsi; soon the god

moves o'er the Cynthian steep; his flowing hair

he binds with laurel garland and bright gold;

upon his shining shoulder as he goes

the arrows ring:—not less uplifted mien

aeneas wore; from his illustrious brow

such beauty shone. Soon to the mountains tall

the cavalcade comes nigh, to pathless haunts

of woodland creatures; the wild goats are seen,

from pointed crag descending leap by leap

down the steep ridges; in the vales below

are routed deer, that scour the spreading plain,

and mass their dust-blown squadrons in wild flight,

far from the mountain's bound. Ascanius

flushed with the sport, spurs on a mettled steed

from vale to vale, and many a flying herd

his chase outspeeds; but in his heart he prays

among these tame things suddenly to see

a tusky boar, or, leaping from the hills,

a growling mountain-lion, golden-maned.

Meanwhile low thunders in the distant sky

mutter confusedly; soon bursts in full

the storm-cloud and the hail. The Tyrian troop

is scattered wide; the chivalry of Troy,

with the young heir of Dardan's kingly line,

of Venus sprung, seek shelter where they may,

with sudden terror; down the deep ravines

the swollen torrents roar. In that same hour

Queen Dido and her hero out of Troy

to the same cavern fly. Old Mother-Earth

and wedlock-keeping Juno gave the sign;

the flash of lightnings on the conscious air

were torches to the bridal; from the hills

the wailing wood-nymphs sobbed a wedding song.

Such was that day of death, the source and spring

of many a woe. For Dido took no heed

of honor and good-name; nor did she mean

her loves to hide; but called the lawlessness

a marriage, and with phrases veiled her shame.

Swift through the Libyan cities Rumor sped.

Rumor! What evil can surpass her speed?

In movement she grows mighty, and achieves

strength and dominion as she swifter flies.

small first, because afraid, she soon exalts

her stature skyward, stalking through the lands

and mantling in the clouds her baleful brow.

The womb of Earth, in anger at high Heaven,

bore her, they say, last of the Titan spawn,

sister to Coeus and Enceladus.

Feet swift to run and pinions like the wind

the dreadful monster wears; her carcase huge

is feathered, and at root of every plume

a peering eye abides; and, strange to tell,

an equal number of vociferous tongues,

foul, whispering lips, and ears, that catch at all.

At night she spreads midway 'twixt earth and heaven

her pinions in the darkness, hissing loud,

nor e'er to happy slumber gives her eyes:

but with the morn she takes her watchful throne

high on the housetops or on lofty towers,

to terrify the nations. She can cling

to vile invention and malignant wrong,