Aeneid

made at Sichaeus' grave.” Such loud lament

burst from her breaking heart with doleful sound.

Meanwhile Aeneas on his lofty ship,

having made ready all, and fixed his mind

to launch away upon brief slumher fell.

But the god came; and in the self-same guise

once more in monitory vision spoke,

all guised as Mercury,—his voice, his hue,

his golden locks, and young limbs strong and fair.

“Hail, goddess-born! Wouldst linger on in sleep

at such an hour? Nor seest thou the snares

that hem thee round? Nor hearest thou the voice

of friendly zephyrs calling? Senseless man!

That woman's breast contrives some treachery

and horrid stroke; for, resolute to die,

she drifts on swollen floods of wrath and scorn.

Wilt thou not fly before the hastening hour

of flight is gone? To-morrow thou wilt see

yon waters thronged with ships, the cruel glare

of fire-brands, and yonder shore all flame,

if but the light of morn again surprise

thee loitering in this land. Away! Away!

Stay not! A mutable and shifting thing

is woman ever.” Such command he spoke,

then melted in the midnight dark away.

Aeneas, by that fleeting vision struck

with an exceeding awe, straightway leaped forth

from slumber's power, and to his followers cried :

“Awake, my men! Away! Each to his place

upon the thwarts! Unfurl at once the sails!

A god from heaven a second time sent down

urges our instant flight and bids us cut

the twisted cords. Whatever be thy name,

behold, we come, O venerated Power!

Again with joy we follow! Let thy grace

assist us as we go! And may thy power

bring none but stars benign across our sky.”

So saying, from its scabbard forth he flashed

the lightning of his sword, with naked blade

striking the hawsers free. Like ardor seized

on all his willing men, who raced and ran;

and, while their galleys shadowed all the sea,

clean from the shore they scudded, with strong strokes

sweeping the purple waves and crested foam.

Aurora's first young beams to earth were pouring

as from Tithonus' saffron bed she sprang;

while from her battlements the wakeful Queen

watched the sky brighten, saw the mated sails

push forth to sea, till all her port and strand

held not an oar or keel. Thrice and four times

she smote her lovely breast with wrathful hand,

and tore her golden hair. “Great Jove,” she cries,

“Shall that departing fugitive make mock

of me, a queen? Will not my men-at-arms

draw sword, give chase, from all my city thronging?

Down from the docks, my ships! Out, out! Begone!

Take fire and sword! Bend to your oars, ye slaves!

What have I said? Where am I? What mad thoughts

delude this ruined mind? Woe unto thee,

thou wretched Dido, now thy impious deeds

strike back upon thee. Wherefore struck they not,

as was most fit, when thou didst fling away

thy sceptre from thy hand? O Iying oaths!

O faith forsworn! of him who brings, they boast,

his father's gods along, and bowed his back

to lift an age-worn sire! Why dared I not

seize on him, rend his body limb from limb,

and hurl him piecemeal on the rolling sea?

Or put his troop of followers to the sword,

ascanius too, and set his flesh before

that father for a feast? Such fearful war

had been of doubtful issue. Be it so!

What fears a woman dying? Would I had

attacked their camp with torches, kindled flame

from ship to ship, until that son and sire,

with that whole tribe, were unto ashes burned

in one huge holocaust—myself its crown!

Great orb of light whose holy beam surveys

all earthly deeds! Great Juno, patroness

of conjugal distress, who knowest all!

Pale Hecate, whose name the witches cry

at midnight crossways! O avenging furies!

O gods that guard Queen Dido's dying breath!

Give ear, and to my guiltless misery

extend your power. Hear me what I pray!

If it be fated that yon creature curst

drift to the shore and happy haven find,

if Father Iove's irrevocable word

such goal decree—there may he be assailed

by peoples fierce and bold. A banished man,

from his Iulus' kisses sundered far,

may his own eyes see miserably slain

his kin and kind, and sue for alien arms.

nor when he basely bows him to receive

terms of unequal peace, shall he be blest

with sceptre or with life; but perish there

before his time, and lie without a grave

upon the barren sand. For this I pray.

This dying word is flowing from my heart

with my spilt blood. And—O ye Tyrians! I