P. VERGILI MARONIS ÆNEIDOS LIBER QVARTVS - Vergil's Æneid Book IV

The 4th Book of Vergil's Aeneis, 

"The Aeneid"

But the queen had been by a heavy grief long since wounded,

A hurt she feeds with each heartbeat, and consumed is she by a fire she cannot see.

Again and again the man's valor returneth to her thoughts, 

As well as his fine lineage. Each expression he wore cleaves to the heart within her breast

As he told his tale, and not did this grief give her any rest.  5

The next morn, while with her Phoeban torch was Dawn a-lighting the lands,

And Aurora had scattered the dewy damp from her seat overhead,

Was when the queen, ill at heart, thus addressed her sister:

"Anna, sister, what sleepless dreams terrify my anxious heart!

Who is this stranger who cometh to our throne a guest?  10

How handsome are his looks, how brave he is in heart and war!

I for one believe him -- and not is this blind trust -- that his stock is of the gods!

Fear proves hearts weak and craven. Alas, by what disasters

Hath he been tossed about! Of what a-wearying wars he long sang!

If I had not long ago carved into mine own heart and set therein  15

That not would I desire to unite myself to any marriage bond at all

After my first love deceived and then cheated me by his death,

If the thought of marriage bed and torch had not a-wearied me,

I could -- mayhaps -- possibly -- indulge in fault for this one man.

For I will tell thee, Anna, that after the doom of my poor Sychaeus,  20

My husband and hearthgods bespattered with the gore my brother's rage had shed,

This man alone hath bent my mind and my heart he hath struck

And caused to waver, for I recognize the path of passion's flame of old.

But I should wish that either the bowels of the earth would yawn and ope,

Or the father almighty would with lightning smite me to the shades below,  25

Down to the wan shades in Erebus, down to the depths of night,

Before I violate thee, O shame! or break my oaths to thee!

He who did first join me to himself hath all my love

Taken -- let him keep it with him and hold it with him in his tomb."

Having thus spoken, her breast she covered with welled-up tears.  30

Anna replied: "O thou art to thy sister more beloved than light --

Wilst thou in loneliness waste away though thy youth still lasts?

Wilst thou know neither sweet children nor the gifts of Venus?

Dost thou believe thy dust-turned husband or his buried shade doth care?

It is so that thou wert in mourning once and would bend to no new marriage,  35

Not in Libya, nor beforehand in Tyre. Disdainful Iarbas

And the other chieftains whom this Afric land, wealthy with triumphs 

Doth cherish -- wilst thou fight 'gainst even a love which seemeth welcome to thee?

Nor hath it come into thy mind in whose lands thou hast settled?

On one side lie the Gaetulian cities, a people unmatched in warfare,  40

And on another we are surrounded by the unbridled Numidians and friendless Syrtes. 

While on yet another front lieth the desert, a parched land where dwell 

The widely raving Barcaei. Shall I speak of wars rising from Tyre 

And thy brother's threats?

Surely, with the gods as their guides and under the favorable auspices of Juno do I believe  45

Those ship-sterns of Ilium did hie hither their course upon the winds.  

O what a city dost thou think to build here, sister, and what kingdoms as well couldst thou rule

With such a marriage as this! With the Teucri as comrades-in-arms,

Oh, to what heights shall our Punic glory soar!

Merely ask, thou, of the gods for mercy and, once favorable omens are obtained,  50

Take great care in our guests' comfort, contrive reasons for delay --

For while the winter sea rageth and bathes Orion among the waves, 

Are ships tossed about, as long as the weather is still impossible."

These words spoken, with weighty love she inflamed her heart

And gave hope to her doubtful mind as well as let loose her shame.  55

First they go to the shrines and seek they peace at the altars there.

They slay the victims chosen at the accustomed age

To law-giving Ceres and Phoebus and father Lyaeus,

But to Juno before all others, to whom the bonds of marriage are a care.

Dido herself held the goblet in her most beautiful right hand,  60

And betwixt the horns of the shining white heifer poured the wine,

Or now she strides before the faces of the gods, to the fatty and gore-glistening altars,

Or now she starts the day anew with gifts, or now into the victims' gaping

Chests she peers and takes note of the still-breathing entrails.

Alas! ignorant minds of priests! What aid are prayers to those driven mad by love,  65

What good are shrines? For there is a tender flame within her very marrow,

A wordless wound which thrives silent within her breast.

She burns with fire, oh unfortunate Dido, who wanders throughout the entire

City like a madwoman, just as when a doe roaming unafraid

Amidst the groves of Crete -- suddenly by an arrow loosed at a distance  70

Doth a hunting shepherd strike her, but left he the winged iron in her,

Unaware he hit a mark; and now she wanders in flight through the forests and glades

Of Dicte, while in her side the fatal shaft stays lodged.

And now around her city's walls doth she take Aeneas,

And she shows him her Sidonian treasure and the city she hath planned,  75

And begins she now to speak, but stops mid-voice,

And now, as the day wanes, she seeks another feast,

And again she senselessly requests to hear the horrors of Ilium,

So that again she may hang upon the speaker's lips.

After all have departed, and the moonlight hath in its due  80

Darkened while the wheeling heavens above lull all to sleep,

Dido mourns alone in her empty home, upon the couch he left behind she lies;

Gone she was when she began to see and hear him even though he was gone,

And in her lap she kept hold of Ascanius, taken as she was by his father's likeness in him --

Oh, would that she could appease her unspeakable love!  85

But now no towers rise though once begun, no youths drill in arms,

Nor do they make the harbors or the defenses secure for warfare -- 

All work is left hanging and unfinished, like the mighty threat'ning pinnacles

Of the city's walls, and the cranes as tall as the heavens stop. 

As soon as Jove's dear consort realized that Dido was wracked  90

By such a plague, her reputation at the mercy of such madness,

Saturn's daughter approaches Venus with such words as these:

"Oh, such outstanding praise and lavish spoils ye both have won,

Both thou and thy boy -- what a great show of power, worthy of remembrance

If a single woman hath been brought so low by the trickery of two gods!  95

But it hath not passed my notice that thou fear'st our city-walls,

Yea, thou hast held the homes of lofty Karthage under suspicion. 

But what is thy way forward? In what combat will'st thou engage now?

Why ever not do we work for ever-lasting peace and a marriage compact?

Thou hast what thou didst seek upon which all thy thought was bent:  100

For Dido burns with blazing love and hath fed the madness running through her bones.

And so, let us both in common rule these people with equal

Sway, side by side. Let Dido be a slave to a Phrygian spouse

And entrust to thy right hand her Tyrians as her dowry."

To Juno (for the other sensed the deceitful intentions in her speech,  105

Whereby she might turn the kingdom destined for Italy to Libya's shores)

Thus in turn began Venus:

                                            "Who would be so out of their mind

To disagree to such terms or wish instead to fight with thee in battle?

If only Fortune would follow what thou hast said with action.

But I am uncertain of the orlays, if Jove the Father hath willed there to be

Only a single city for the Tyrians and for the Trojan refugees,  110

If he will approve the people to be mixed, to be joined in treaty.

Thou art his consort -- it is within thy divine right to try his heart by entreaty.

Go on ahead and I shall follow."

                                                      Then thus in turn spake Queenly Juno:

"With me lies that task. Now, by what design the task at hand  115

Might be accomplished, pray, in brief I shall explain to thee:

There will be a hunt whither Aeneas and most pitiful Dido

Prepare to make their way to a forest when the morrow's rising 

Titan shows his face and reveals the globe with his rays. 

Later, I will work my power: a dark'ning raincloud with hailstorms mingled within  120

Will I pour on the hunters' heads as they fright their quarry out of hiding 

And gird the brush with nets -- I will shake the heavens all with thunder!

Willy-nilly will run the companions as they are covered by lightless night.

To the same cave will Dido and the Trojan captain come. 

I will be present there, and if thy will is sure in this endeavor,  125

In wedlock steadfast I shall join and her as his own I shall bestow.

This shall be their wedding."

                                                Being not against this entreaty,

Cytherea did then agree and laughed at the deceit she had uncovered. 

                                 

In the meantime did the rising Aurora leave her Ocean home,

And when once the her rays shone forth, chosen youths go from the gates  130

To prepare the wide-meshed nets, the snares, and the hunting spears;

Massylians on horseback gallop here and there with keen-nosed dogs.

The queen tarries in her bedchamber, while at the threshold Phoenician

Princes await as attendants, and, decked out especial with purple and gold,

Stands her hoof-sounding steed, his foaming bit he excitedly chews.  135

At last she appears and walks with a great pressing pack of people,

A Sidonian cloak with a dyed hem is caught about her body,

While she bore a quiver made of gold, and her hair was bound up in gold as well,

And a gold'n broach pinned and held up her red-dyed dress.

And absent neither were Phrygian companions from her side, nor happy Iulus as well.  140

And then Aeneas himself, handsome to look upon before all others,

Approaches and joins his person and his own troop to his new-found allies,

Just as -- when Apollo leaveth Lycia in winter and the floods of the southern Xanthus,

So that he may return to his mother's land of the island Delos,

And the dancers celebrate his coming and about his altars are mingled  145

Cretans and Dryopes and painted Agathyrsi who raise a roar of noise,

And the god himself went along the peaks of Mount Cynthus, and into his flowing locks

Weaves he soft shoots and leaves all entwined with gold,

While rattle the arrows on his shoulders -- in no way more lightly than the god

Did Aeneas walk, splendor shining forth from his lovely looks.  150

After they came to the lofty mountains and the pathless haunts,

Lo! wild goats jump down from the rocky peaks above,

And scamper along the cliffsides. From another quarter,

Across wide and open plains do herds of deer run

Kicking up an enormous cloud of dust in their flight from the mountains.  155

The boy Ascanius finds joy in his keen mount in the midst of these vales,

Passing these riders in his gallop, now he passes those,

All in the hopes that a bristly boar might be among these timid creatures --

An answer to his prayers -- or mayhaps a tawny lion leap down from the mountain.

Meanwhile, with a great rumble were the heavens confounded,

And followed was a raincloud with hailstorms mingled within;

So both Tyrii friends and the Trojan youth, as well as Venus' Dardan grandson,

Alarmed by fear, were seeking diff'ring shelters in the fields as freshets run down the mountainsides.

To the same cave do Dido and the Trojan captain come.  165

First are Tellus, Mother Earth, and Juno, Goddess of Marriage,

To give the signal -- lightning flashes, the air above is called to witness

The wedding bonds, while nymphs howl in ululation on the mountainside.

Oh, that day was the first of the end, the first cause of the evils,

For neither by appearance or by her reputation is Dido now moved,  170

Nor doth she think of her love as one to be kept secret any more -- 

She calls her union a marriage, and covers her guilt under this name.

Immediately doth Rumor go throughout the great cities of Libya --

Oh, Rumor, no other ill that moves moveth faster than she.

The more she moves, the stronger she grows, and more strength she gains by going.  175

She starts out small, afraid of all, but oh so soon doth she stretch to the air,

And strides upon the ground with her head hiding among the clouds.

Mother Earth, her parent, was angry with wrath at the gods above, 

And so they say she bore her, her last child, and thus to Coeus and Enceladus

Their sister, a monster swift of foot and nimble of wing,  180

A terrifying sight grown vast with as many plumes on her body

As ever-watchful eyes lie beneath -- oh, this is wondrous strange to tell --

And as many tongues speaking all at once and ears list'ning below.

By night she flies, keeping to the shadows betwixt the sky and earth,

Screeching all the while, for ne'er shuts she her eyes in sweet sleep.  185

By day sitteth she as sentinel either on the rooftops of homes

Or on tall towers of cities where she may easily spread her terror,

For she is as eager to tell untrue and lewd stories as she is the truth.

She was busy filling the ears of all the nations with much-layered talk,

For she delights all the while in weaving a song of equal parts fact and fiction.  190

She sang that come had Aeneas, a prince born from Trojan blood,

To whom lovely Dido had deemed him worthy enough to be her husband,

And now they the whole winterlong in opulence have coupled with each other,

Their realms they have forsaken, these prisoners of shameful lust --

The foul goddess pours all this talk into the mouths of men.  195

Forthwith doth she twist and turn her course to King Iarbas

And she sets his heart aflame with her words and piles rage upon wrath.

He had been got by Hammon on a ravished Garamantian nymph;

A hundred enormous temples to Jove throughout his wide domains,

A hundred altars he built, and a sacred flame he had consecrated,  200

Everlasting guardians for the gods, and with the red gore of beasts,

Holy he kept the fundaments fatty and the lintel flow'ry with rainbow-colored garlands.

But now, out of his mind he was inflamed by a bitter rumor,

So it is said -- and so before the altars in the midst of the idols of the gods,

Much to Jove did this suppliant beg with upturned hands:  205

"Jove the Father all-mighty, it is for thee my Maurusian countrymen, 

When lying on painted couches and banqueting, pour Lenaeum wine in honor!

See'st thou these things? Or father, when thou cast the lightning bolt,

To no avail do we shake before thee? Are blind the fires in thy clouds

Which terrify our spirits? And do they make empty rumblings?  210

That woman, who wandered into our bounds and, for a price,

Built she a meager city, and to her we gave a farmable strip of coast,

And the terms of settlement -- but now our marriage vow

She hath spurned, and as her lord she hath received Aeneas into her kingdom!

And now this second Paris and his band of half-man geldings,  215

This man who ties under his chin a Maeonian cap to wear o'er his oil-wettened hair,

He keeps possession of what he hath stolen while we keep making off'rings in thy temples,

And stand in oh, so much awe of thine empty renown."

As he prayed with such words as these and grasped the altar with his hands,

All-Mighty Jove heard him, and turned the god his eyes to the city walls  220

Of the queen, and saw two lovers who had forgotten their once-better reputations.

Then he addressed Mercury thus, and such commands he giveth:

"Make thy way, my son, call on the westerly Zephyros and bend thy pinions

To the leader of the Dardianians, who hath tarried in Tyrian Karthage

And now no longer looks at the cities decreed to him by the Fates.  225

Address him and bear thou these my words along the gusty breezes of the air.

This is not the promise that his most beautiful mother made to us concerning him,

And not for this did she twice save him from the Graian arms --

But it was so that he would rule o'er Italy, a land teeming with empire,

And raging in warfare and then a people he might beget from the highborn blood  230

Of Teucer, and then to the whole globe would he dispense law and order.

If no glory of such things as these enflame him with passion and desire,

And if he bestir not himself to endeavor for the sake of his own honor,

Would he begrudge his son Ascanius his promised Roman home?

What is he building? With what hope doth he delay in a land of enemies?  235

Doth he not think on his Ausonian offspring and the fertile field of Lavinium?

Let him sail! This is the sum of our words -- let this our message be!"

He had spoken. The other made ready to obey the great father's

Decree: and so first, upon his feet he tied his winged anklets

Made of gold, which either carry him upon the wings on the lofty gusts of air  240

Or upon the solid ground where they let him run like a speedy breeze.

He took then his wand by which calleth he to Orcus the wan shades

Of the dead, while others he sendeth to the grim depths of lowly Tartarus;

With it he giveth sleep and yet also taketh away, and the eyes of the dead he opens.

With it he driveth the winds and skips across the whirling clouds.  245

And now in his flight he espies the peak and the jagged cliffsides 

Of rugged Altas who props up the very sky with the top of his head;

Altas, whose pinetree-covered crown is e'er girded by dark clouds

Beaten by both blasts of wind and by the floods spilling from rainclouds,

Falling snow veils his shoulders, and the waterfalls from the old man's chin  250

Gush down headlong in torrents which then ice over to form his beard.

It was here that Cyllenian Mercury alighted on his balanced wings,

Halting just a second before he headlong threw himself down to the waves

In like manner to a bird which wheels about the strands, which about

The fish-haunted rocks flies low, keeping close to the sea --  255

In no way otherwise did the god fly betwixt the land and sky

To the sandy shore of Libya and through the winds a pathway cut

The Cyllenian offspring, coming from his visit to his mother's father.

When then he touched the builders' huts with his winged soles,

He espied Aeneas engaged in building citadels and homes.

The man wore a sword the hilt of which was studded with yellow jasper 

And he gleamed bright as fire in a cloak of rich Tyrian purple-dye

Which hung from his shoulders, a kingly gift which Dido herself

Had made, working the web with tender gold'n threads throughout her weaving.

Without delay the god laid into him: 

                                                            "Is it now lofty Karthage's

Foundations thou art to build, oh wife-enslaved man? A lovely city

Thou art constructing? Oh alas, thou hast forgot thine own kingdom and thine orlays!

The lord of gods himself now sends me down to thee from bright Olympus,

Yea, the king who turneth the heavens and earth with his divine power,

He himself biddeth me to bear these commands along the gusty breezes of the air.

What art thou building? With what hope dost thou whittle away in leisure in Libyan lands?

If no glory of such things as these move thee with passion and desire,

And if thou bestir not thyself to endeavor for the sake of thine own honor,

Then think on young Ascanius, the hope of thine heir Iulus,

To whom is owed both the crown of Italy as well as sway o'er the  275

Roman world."

                          With such speech Cyllenius spoke to him,

Taking leave of the mortal's sight midway through his discourse,

And then vanished far off from Aeneas' eyes into thin air. 

At the first Aeneas stood there dumb, driven mad by the visitation,

As his hair stood on end and his voice did cling within his throat.  280

He yearns to be off in flight and to leave these sweet lands behind him,

Shocked he is by such a warning and command of the gods.

Alas, what ought he to do? With what speech dare he to give the queen the slip,

Given how unstable she is? What words would he use to begin such a speech?

And his mind he divided quickly now hither and now thither,  285

And takes on every side and position and turns his thought every which-way he could.

In the end it seemed best to him instead of doing else to keep to this:

Mnestheus and Sergestus he calls, as well as brave Serestus,

To outfit the fleet -- but in silence! -- and gather the allies to the shore;

They are to prepare their arms and, if the reason is asked for these new preparations,  290

They are to lie. In the meantime, since most excellent Dido

Knew not a thing nor did she suspect that such a great love would be brok'n off,

He would try to approach her at the what seemed the tenderest time

For speaking, a favorable way to tell her. Speedily do all

His order happ'ly obey and his bidding they carry out.  295

But the queen -- for who can deceive a lover? -- felt there was

Some trickery, and was first to perceive what was to come,

Anxious even when all seemed normal. But that same fell demon Rumor enflamed

Her madness with news of the fleet being armed and a course being set.

Her mind at last breaks: she rages as if aflame throughout the whole city  300

Like a bacchant, thrilled by the shaking ritual objects of the god,

Just like a Thyiadan devotee shakes when the cry "Bacchus!" is heard,

When the nighttime orgies thrice-yearly call her when the shout is raised on Cithaeron.

At last she accosts Aeneas with these following words: 

"Didst thou, traitor, hope that thou wouldst be able to hide from me  305

Such a sin as this, and slip away quietly from my land?

Doth neither our love stay thee, nor our one-time marriage pact,

Nor even if thy Dido were to promise to die a cruel death?

Dost thou hasten to have thy fleet try the seas when the winter stars shine above,

Or to sail the deepsea as the northern gales blow their cruel gusts?  310

If thou were not to seek foreign fields and homes yet known,

If even yet old Troia stood proud and tall still now,

Wouldst thou still seek Troia with thy fleet upon the wave-lapping sea?

Is it me thou dost flee? By these tears, by thy right and thee --

For nothing else at all have I left for me, wretched as I am --  315

By our wedding, by the marriage bed we slept upon,

If I have e'er deserved well in thine eyes, or if anything I did

Was pleasant to thee, have pity on my failing and damned house,

I beg thee, if there is any place left for prayers, change thy mind.

It is because of thee that the Libyan peoples and the Numidian lords  320

Hate me -- my Tyrians hate me too! Because of thee as well,

My honor is lost, snuffed out; my one-time reputation, my only way to the stars,

Is gone. For what willst thou desert to die, oh stranger? --

Is this the only name which remains for someone once my husband? --

Why do I delay? Until my brother Pygmalion comes to my city walls  325

To topple them or Gaetulian Iarbas takes me as his prisoner?

If only, at least, I could have conceived of an offspring of thine 

Before thou leave'st, if some little Aeneas might among these rooms

Play games, some child who might recall to my mind thine own features,

Oh! At least then I would not feel so utterly deceived and deserted."  330

She had spoken. But the man, heedful of Jove's warnings, kept

His eyes unmoved, he struggled to shove his care deep within his heart.

At last he spoke sparingly:

    

                                            "As for thee and me -- thou hast many things

Thou canst recount in speech -- but I shall never, my queen,

Say that thou didst not render service, nor will it displease me to recall thee, Elissa,  335

While I still have memory of thee, while my spirit still guides these limbs.

I shall speak a few things in my defense: not did I hope to steal off in secret --

Think it not that I wished to flee! Nor ever did I extend the marriage torches,

Nor enter into any contract with thee concerning any union.

If but the Fates would allow me to live the life I wish to live,  340

Under mine own auspices, and let me set forth mine own cares as I see fit,

A Trojan city would I first of all care for, and establish the remnants

Of my house; the high homes of Priamus would now stand reborn,

And with mine own hand would I rebuild Pergamum anew for a people defeated.

But now it is Italy the great which Grynean Apollo --  345

Yea, Italy I say, which the Lycian's lots bid me to take!

There lies my love, there is my home. If the citadels of Karthage,

If the sight of thy Libyan city is a care to thee, my Phoenician queen,

Why then dost thou have a grudge 'gainst the Teucri settling

Ausonian land? Heaven above hath deemed us to seek kingdoms elsewhere than here.  350

My father Anchises torments me -- ev'ry night the dewy shadows

Cover the night-bathed lands, ev'ry time the fiery stars rise,

He comes to me in dreams and his troubled image scares me!

He warns me about my boy, Ascanius, the wrong put on his dear head,

For I would cheat him out of a Hesperian crown and fertile fields promised by the Fates.  355

And now even the messenger of the gods hath been sent by Jove himself --

I swear on both our heads! -- who bore these commands along the gusty breezes of the air.

I myself saw the god in the plain daylight with mine own eyes,

Alight upon the walls and his words I drank with mine ears.

So cease enflaming thee and me both with thy plaints --  360

Italy-ward do I unwillingly go."

She looked at him all while he said these words, yet him she did not see,

For her eyes she let go this way and that, taking in the measure of the man up and down

With her wordless stare -- and then she a-sudden blazed forth and cried out:

"No goddess gave thee birth, nor was Dardanus thy forebearer,

Traitor -- but born thou wert upon the ragged peaks of the shuddering 

Caucasus Mountains where the Hyrcanian tigresses gave thee suck!

Why do I pretend any longer? For what better moment do I hold back my all?

He didn't groan at our tears, did he? He didn't turn his eyes to us, did he?

He didn't shed tears in defeat, or pity his lover -- did he?

What should I say first? Then after that? What of now? And now? Neither greatest Juno

Nor Saturnus' son, Father Jove, are looking at me with fair eyes.

No where is loyalty safe -- a man buffeted upon my shore, a man with nothing but his name

I took into my house! A madwoman must I have been to give him part of my kingdom! 

I rebuilt his lost fleet, I restored his allies from death!

Oh, I feel I am a prisoner of the Furies' flames! Now it's an oracle of Apollo,

Now it's some Lycian lots, now it's even some godly messenger sent by Jove himself,

Who bears to thee these terrible commands along the air!

Of course this disaster comes from the gods above -- such is the distress which

Disturbs their eternal bliss. I neither keep thee here, nor argue what thou hast said.

Go! Get thee Italy-ward on the winds! Seek those kingdoms across the waves!

I hope -- if there is any power in the gods -- that thou shall drink thy punishment

By wrecking upon some rocky reef and the name of Dido, 

Dido thou shalt call again and again -- but I shall not be there

Until after Death's cold hands hath severed my limbs from my soul -- and then I shall exist

Everywhere as a shade and haunt thee -- thou shalt pay, villain!

E'en amongst the dead shall I hear of thy torments -- the tale will reach me in Hell!"

Thus Dido spoke these words and broke off her speech to flee indoors.

Feeling ill, she turns from his eyes and betakes herself away,

Quitting him as he stood unmoving out of growing fear and rehearsing the many replies  390

He could give; in the meantime, her servants took her when she swooned and bore

Her lifeless limbs to her be-marbled bedchamber and there laid her upon her bed. 

But pious Aeneas kept to his duty, e'en though he desired to lighten her pain

By his comfort and turn aside her worries with his words.

Letting out many groans, he felt his heart sink at the thought of her great love --  395

But yet the commands of the gods he follows and to the fleet he returns. 

And then Teucer's sons set to work and their lofty ships from the shore

They draw and set to launch. The wetten'd keels happ'ly swim,

The oars they ply still wear leafy branches as the oaks from the forest

They left unfinished in their haste to flee.  400

Thou could'st see the whole lot rushing as streams from the entire city,

Just as when ants will plunder a huge heap of spelt 

Once they sense that winter comes, and store it within their nest;

The black battalion goes from field to field and  through grass with booty

In tow in a narrow line, some of which bear the weighty grain  405

Upon their shoulders, while another close up the column

And berate the stragglers -- the whole path bustles with their busywork.

What feelings took hold of thee, Dido, when thou didst see such sights as these?
What groaning didst thou make, when the whole shore was alive with toil

As far as thou could'st see from thy highest citadel? Didst thou see  410

Before thine eyes the whole sea churned up with such activity?

Cruel Love -- what dost thou not drive our mortal hearts to do?

Again she is driv'n to fall into weeping, and again to beg before him,

A pitiable suppliant debasing her heart before love,

Lest she, a woman who hath left nothing untried, end her life in vain.  415

"Anna, see'st thou that they hasten about the whole shore there,

Algates they come together? How now the linen sail doth call the breezes,

How on the sterns those happy sailors set woven crowns?

If to this pain I have been able to consign myself, yea this so much pain,

Then bear it, sister, I shall be able. Yet, for wretched me this one thing  420

Do carry out, dear Anna -- for me: for thee alone yon traitor

Had a care for, and even his most hidden feelings to thee he entrusted.

Thou alone the easiest advances to the man didst learn, and the times to act.

Ah, sister: and now to our foe -- as a suppliant, go address him so haughty!

'Twas not I did swear with the Danaï to wipe out the Trojan race  425

At Aulis shoreside, nor did I my fleet to Pergamum sent,

Nor his father Anchises' ashes or shades did I insult.

Why does he my words deny and cast them upon harsh ears?

Whither doth he run? Let this be the last gift he gives a wretched lover:

Let him wait for an easy 'scape and gentle winds to bear him off.  430

No longer do I for that old marriage, which he did put forth, beg --

Nor that he lose his beautiful Latium and give up his kingdom.

I ask for some free time, and rest and space for madness,

Until my fortune may tell me how to live defeated with this pain.

This final mercy I beg of him -- Oh, have pity on thy sister, Anna! --  435
Which when he will to me grant, I shall pay back in kind with my death."

She kept pleading with such words, and with such words the wretched sister

Again and again bore the tearful plea -- but the man is by no weeping moved,

Nor does his ear hear any word to make him change his heart,

For the Fates oppose it and god hath stopped the man's once-loving ears.  440

It is just when the mighty trunk of a many-year'd oak

The Alpine-born Boreads now hither now thither with northerly gusts

Strive in contest to tear down; the wind howls as the lofty fronds

Litter the ground below after being stricken from their limbs -- 

But despite all this, the trunk itself clings to the rocks, for as tall as its top

To heav'ntop grows, as deep its Tartarus-seeking roots stretch --  445

No less differently was the hero this time now that time by ceaseless words

Battered, and though he felt the worries rise within his great heart,

His mind steadfast stood unmoving, and the tears fell empty to no avail.

But oh, unfortunate Dido grows terrified of the orlays set before her  450

And so begs for death -- the mere sight of heaven above wearies her.

Even more so doth she ponder doing it and abandoning the light at last, 

When she sees that, upon placing gifts on the altars of smoking incense --

Oh, it is a shuddering tale to tell -- the sacred waters did turn dark

And the wine poured out as an off'ring become as disgusting gore;  455

Of this sight to no one -- not even to her sister -- did she let slip a word.

There was also within the palace a shrine built of marble 

And devoted to her husband of old, a monument she kept in wond'rous honor,

A temple wreathed all over with snowy pelts and merry boughs.

Hence does she think she hears voices and the words of her husband  460

Calling to her when Night holdeth the lands in her shady embrace

And upon the rooftops a lone owl hoots a sorrowful dirge,

Lamenting in drawn-out notes its tearful song of death. 

And then the many predictions the priests made in times past 

Scare her with their terror-stricken warnings. And now Aeneas has come for her,  465

In her fever-ridden nightmares she dreams a wild Aeneas pursues her, and she is ever

Abandoned, ever alone, ever friendless on a long journey,

A lonely road leading to lands where she sought her lost Tyrii.

She is as a madness-stricken Pentheus seeing the hordes of kindly Eumenides,

When he sees the twin suns and double Thebes appear a-fore his eyes,  470

Or when Agamemnon's son Orestes is driv'n across the stage 

As he flees his mother with torches arm'd and with serpents black

While the dread Avengers sit waiting on the threshold.

And so, undone by her grief, the mad woman held onto the idea

To plan her death; and so the time and way she thought to herself  475

On how to execute. She approach'd her sorrowful sister with these words,

While with her countenance she clothed her deceit and lifted hope with her brow:

"I have found a way, sister mine! Be glad for me, thy sister!

A way which shall return him to me or shall free me from my love:

At Ocean's end, where it meeteth the sun falling at the end of day,  480

Where the farthest-flung land of Aethiopia lies, where mightiest Atlas 

Twists on his shoulders the global axis, all a-studded with shining stars,

Hence hath come to me a priestess of Massylian stock and there ordained,

The guardian of the temple of the Hesperides; it was she set out the meals for the dragon

And tended the holy boughs of the trees in their famous orchard,  485

And sprinkled dripping honey and sleep-bearing poppies. 

She pledges that by chanting her spells she may release the cares of those

Whom she wills, while on others she inflicts dread worries,

She can stay the waters of a running river and turn the stars around again,

And bestir the night-dwelling shades of the dead. Thou shalt see her rumble  490

Beneath thy feet the very earth and cause the ash-trees to walk down the mountainside. 

I swear, dear sister, by both gods and thee, sister dear, and on thy

Sweet head as well, that unwillingly do I arm myself with this sorcery!

In secret build then, thou, a pyre in the inner courtyard under the open sky,

And the arms of my impious husband which still lay unmov'd in our chamber,  495

All the spoils my devotionless man left behind, as well as our marriage bed

On which I have pined away in love -- put it on top! The priestess saieth mine aid lies in abolishing ev'ry vestige of that nameless cow'rd!"

Once she spoke these words, she then fell silent as a pallor takes hold of her face.

But not yet doth Anna believe that her sister plots her own death  500

With these new religious rites, and not yet does the idea take hold of her mind

That her sister hath lost hers -- not yet does she dread graver outcomes than Sychaeus' murder,

And so she prepares all her sister's commands.

So when the queen saw within the inner courtyard the pyre and bed beneath the open sky,

Built huge and tow'ring with nuptial pinewood and chopped timbers of evergreen holm-oak,  505

She wreathed the yard in garlands and crown'd the court with leafy boughs

Cut and placed as if for a tomb. Above the bed she put his clothes and the blade he left

On an effigy she set thereon -- and now there is no doubt in her mind as to her fate to come. 

All around stand altars, and at one the priestess stood with hair unbound and wild

As she invoked in thund'rous tones thrice one hundred gods, as well as Erebus and Chaos,  510

Triple-Sister Hecate, and the Three Aspects of Maid'n Diana.

The witch had sprinkl'd waters said to purportedly be from Avernus' hellish font,

And then had been brought out rare herbs ripe and wet with the milk of a dark venom,

All a-reaped with scythes made out of bronze and under the light of the moon,

And at last, the long-sought after love charm, torn from the forehead of new-birth'd foal  515

Before the mother could lick it off. 

Then Dido herself with holy grain and pure hands approaches the altars,

Where she unties one sandal from one foot, undoes the clasps of her dress,

And then, standing on the threshold of death, she called upon the gods and stars

Which knew her orlays. Then, she prays to any god who hath the power of judgment  520

And the mind to take her side in her marriage of unrequited love.

Night then fell and tired bodies throughout all the lands were ready to take on

Gentle sleep. The woods and wild waves are all a-quiet 

Upon the deep, while the stars wheel about in the middle of their course
When every land lies silent. Cattle and birds on brightly painted wings  525

Which widely flutter about the limpid lakes or in the rough countryside where in shrubs

Their nests they make -- even these lay in sleep under Night's silent embrace. 

So all were a-lightening their worries and hearts had forgotten the day's toils,

But oh, not unfortunate Dido, for the heart of the Phoenician queen

Ne'er again released her for sleep, nor did it allow night's peace  530

Into either her eyes or breast. Her anxieties double and grow, and again

Riseth the raging love within her until breaks the great swell of her wrath.

But now she pauses and in suchwise turns these thoughts within her heart:

"Lo -- what am I doing? Am I again to try my former suitors,

Those who mocked me? Should I go as a suppliant, seek marriage with Numidians,  535

Those whom I spurned again and again when they sought my hand?

Or should I follow the Ilian fleet, only to then obey the commands

Of Teucer's sons until the very end? Would they take me because I helped them,

Offer'd them aid aforetimes and gratitude of that old deed lingers in their thoughts?

Who of them -- even if I wanted! -- would allow me on their proud ships,  540

Would want me, hateful thing that I am? Dost thou not yet know, oh alas,

Poor lost woman, dost thou still not know the forsworn lies of Laomedon's family?

What then? Shall I flee alone, or accompany reveling sailors?

Or go with my Tyrii, a mighty band of mine own about me --

Ah, those Tyrii whom I scarcely could wrench from their home of Sidon --  545

Shall I again drive them seaward and bid them ope new sails to the winds?

But no -- thou art deserved to die and turn aside thine ills with iron.

Oh thou, my sister, thou hast been undone by my tears, thou who did first 

Weigh me down with this madness and threw me to mine enemy.

It was not for me to spend the rest of my years living in a blameless marriage  550

In the manner of a wild beast which ne'er knows such cares!

I have not kept safe the oath I made to the ashes of my Sychaeus."

Such sad complaints as these she let burst forth from her breast.

But Aeneas, fixed on his resolve to leave, was on the high stern

Catching some sleep now that all his affairs had been readied in due order.  555

Then in the man's dreams returned again the shape of a god to thus warn him,

A form which seemed like in every way similar to Mercury in voice and sight

With flaxen locks and limbs bestowed with youthful grace:

"Goddess-born, art thou able now to fall asleep at the foot of such disaster?  560

Dost thou not see the dangers which even now surround thee?

Madman! Dost thou not hear the fair Zephyrus blowing?

The queen is turning dark plots and dreadful sin within her breast,

For she is resolved to die and rides now a swell of wrath ready to break upon thee.

Dost thou not flee headlong hence whilst still yet thou dost have the chance?  565

Soon thou shalt see the sea all a-churned with oared ships and a-lighted

By the flames of fiery torches, which soon will catch the shore in a blaze

If the rays of Aurora's dawn should touch thee tarrying still within these lands!

Alas, awake! Break off any delay! A fickle and changeable creature ever 

Is woman."

                    Thus spake he and bled his shape into the shadows of the night.  570

Terrified by the unforeseen wraith, Aeneas then did wrench

His body from sleep and awoke he all his allies

With these rash words:

 

                                      "Awaken, men! Take your seats at the oars!

Unloose the sails -- quickly! A god sent from the high heavens above

Bid us hasten our flight and cut the twisted mooring line!  575

Oh! Lo, holy god from above, we follow thee,

Whosoever thou art, and with joyful haste obey thy command!

May'st thou guide us, O calming lord, may'st thou aid and show us

Favoring stars in the heav'n's sky!"

                                                         He spake and from his sheath his sword

He snatched and sliced the hawser with his shining iron blade.  580

And then the selfsame eager thrill took them all -- so they grabbed their goods and ran.

The shore they all abandon until the sea is fully hidden beneath their fleet.

Plying their strength, they churn up the saltfoam and sweep the sky-blue waters. 

Now with newborn light were the first rays of dawn sprinkling the lands

As Aurora quit the saffron-yellow bed of her Tithonus,  585

When the queen from a high lookout saw the fresh and whitening light

And the fleet of ships departing on sails stretched smooth by the winds,

Both strand and harbor she realized were empty of oarsmen,

She thrice and then four times beat her beauteous breast with her hand

And tore her gold'n hair before saying:

                                                                "By Jove -- will he go,  590

This foreigner who laughs and mocks our kingdom?

Shall my people ready their arms, follow them out of ev'ry quarter of the city,

Chase after their fleeings ships with our own pursuing? Go!

Ready flames with haste! Hand out the weapons! Drive the oars!

What am I saying? Where am I? What madness has altered my mind?  595

Oh, unfortunate Dido, hath the desire to do dark deeds touched thee now?

There was once time for such things, when thou gave him the scepter.

Lo! Is this the loyalty and faith of one whom they say bears his father's penates,

Whom they say hath borne upon his shoulders his age-wearied father?

Could I not have stol'n his father's corpse and cut it into pieces  600

To scatter here-and-there upon the waves? Could I not have put his allies to the sword, 

Not even to carve up little Ascanius, to serve him as a feast upon his father's plate?

Ah, the either way could go the fortune of a fight -- let it be so.

Whom do I have to fear given that I am ready to die? I should have borne

Torches into his camp, filled his tent with flames, son and father together,  605

I should have wiped out and giv'n myself to death as well!

Oh, thou Sun, who lightest upon all works of the lands below with thy flames,

Thou Juno who mediates and know'st these pains I feel,

Thou Hecate who wails at nighttime crossroads throughout all cities,

Thou avenging Furies, thou gods of dying Elissa -- 610

Accept these words, turn thy deserving godly power to mine ills,

And hear these our prayers: if it must needs be that yon accursed man

Touch his destined harbor and sail across the sea to promised lands

Just as Jove's Fates have decreed -- then let his final goal stay fixed;

But let him be plagued by war with a bold people and by their arms,  615

Banished from his lands, torn from his son Iulus' embrace,

Let him beg for aid, but look only upon the disgraceful deaths of his own people.

And let him not, after he hath resigned himself to laws of peace,

Enjoy either his new-found kingdom or his longed-for days --

Let him fall before his time and lie unburied in the midst of a wasteland!  620

These are my prayers, these final words I pour out with my blood:

All of ye, O my Tyrii, pursue that stock and race to come -- every one of them! --

With hatred and offer their destruction as a funeral gift to mine ashes!

Let there be no love between our peoples, no truce at all!

Let there rise from my bones some avenger yet to be born  625

To harry those Dardanian colonists with the torch and blade

Now or in some time to come, whenever strength shall be granted him!

Our shores against their shores, our raging swells against their watery waves --

I pray for it! -- our arms against their arms! Let them fight, mine and their descendants!"

These words she spake and turned her thoughts to ev'ry corner of her mind  630

Seeking a way to sever her life as soon as possible from the hated light of day.

Then in short she addressed Barce, Sychaeus' loyal nurse -- 

For her own lay as dark ashes within her old ancestral homeland:

"My dear nurse, summon hither my sister, Anna:

Tell her to hasten and sprinkle her body with flowing springwater  635

And bring with her animals for sacrifice and appointed off'rings.

Let her come thusly and thou as well do bind thy brows with holy fillets.

The sacred rites to Stygian Jove I have already begun

I now intend to complete and put an end to my pains

By vowing the pyre of that Dardanian prince to burning flames!"  640

Thus spake she and the other set her step with aged enthusiasm to obey.

Meanwhile, there stood trembling with wild and inhuman purpose Queen Dido,

Rolling her bloodshot gaze this way and that, her shaking cheeks a-flush

With red mixed with the pallor of her death to come.

She broke into the inner courtyard of her home and the tall timbers  645

Of the pyre the madden'd woman climbed, where she drew the sword

Of the Dardanian lord, a gift not sought for this end.

It was here the sight of his Ilian clothing and their memorable bed

She caught, and so for a bit she tarried in tears and in thought

As she lay upon the cushion and spake these final words:  650

"Ah, these memories, sweet while Fate and gods allowed them --

Receive now this my soul and release me from this pain.

I have lived and this course of life which Fortune gave me hath reached its end,

And now my great ghost shall pass below beneath the earth.

I built a mighty city, I saw mine own city walls rise,  655

I avenged my husband and exacted vengeance from my murderous brother.

Oh, how fortunate -- too fortunate would I have been,

If only never had Dardanian ships landed upon my shores!"

She spoke and her face she pressed into the bed, and said:

                                                                                              "Though I die unavenged,

Just let me die! Let this! and now this! aid me to journey to the shades below!  660

May he on the high seas drink in this fire with his eyes,

Let yon cruel Dardanian bear with him these omens of my death!"

She had spoken, and in the midst of her words did her allies and friends

See her bodily fall upon the blade, the point a-froth with bloody gore

Which spattered all over her hands. Here a great din arose to the  665

Courtyard's heights as Rumor raved like a bacchant through the alarmed city.

With wailing and groaning and women's lamenting cries

Did the houses shake, the very air echoed with great weeping --

In no otherwise than this would it be if at the hands of an invading enemy

All of Karthage or even ancient Tyre would fall to ruin, the rooftops of both men  670

And gods were at the mercy of raging flames.

Breathless and terrified, her sister heard it and came at a hastened run,

Tearing with her nails her face and her breast she beat

As she ran through the midst of the crowd and called her dying sister by name:

"Is this what yon pyre was for, my sister? Didst thou deceive me?  675

This pyre? These flames? These altars -- all were readied by my hand -- for this?

For what shall I first bewail -- that thou hast abandoned me? Didst thou spurn

To have thy sister join thee in thy death? Hadst thou called me to the same end,

Both of us would the same swordstroke's pain and same hour borne away!

Did I build this pyre with these hands, did I call upon our father's gods  680

With mine own voice just so that thou couldst leave me here, cruel sister?

Thou hast wiped out thyself and me as well, sister, and thy people, 

Thy Sidonian fathers and thy city too! Grant that I wash thy wounds

With holy waters and, if some final breath still hovers o'er thee,

I shall catch it with my lips!"

                                                 Thus spake she and climbed the high steps  685

To catch her dying sister in an embrace against her breast,

Sighing all the while and sopping up the running gore with her dark'ning dress.

The queen tried to lift her heavy eyelids up again,

But failed; the deep wound beneath her breast hissed with dying breath.

Thrice she raised herself to rest upon her elbow,  690

And thrice she again fell to the bed and with her wandering eyes

Searched the high heavens for the light, and, once finding it, heavily sighed.

Then almighty Juno, taking pity on her prolonged pain

And her difficult demise, sent Iris down from Olympus

To unloose the struggling spirit from her body's prison.  695

For because she perished by neither fate's decree nor due to a deserved death,

But the poor woman had been set aflame by sudden madness before her time,

So not yet had Proserpina borne off a lock of gold'n hair from her head

And sentenced her soul to Stygian Orcus beneath the earth.

And so, dew-wet Iris on saffron-painted wings,  700

Trailing a thousand dappled hues in her flight across the sun,

Alighted down and stood o'er the queen's head and spake:

                                                                                              "I have been thusly bid

To bear now this off'ring to Dis and release thee from thy body."

Thus spake she and with her right hand a lock of hair she cut. All and at once

Did the warmth leave her and her life disappeared upon the winds.  705