Two Dramatizations from Vergil: I. Dido—the Phœnecian Queen; II. The Fall of Troy

by Virgil

ACT II

Act II. Scene 1

Dido’s chamber. At the left, in front, is a shrine (1). An antique bust with an inscription above it, visible in the light from the glowing censer, indicates that it is sacred to Synchæus. Two broad steps raise it slightly from the level of the stage. On the same side in the middle a door (2), flanked by half columns. At the right, first wing, a door (3); half-way back on the same side (4), a curtained recess in which are hung Dido’s brilliant robes. In the center of the background (5), is a window overlooking the city and harbor, which show in the distance when the window is opened. It is reached by two steps covered with rugs, and the seats about the three sides of the recess are richly upholstered in green and gray.

Anna and Dido both wear simple white, while Barce, the aged nurse, is clad plainly in brown.

Barce lies asleep on a couch near the shrine, her face lighted by the glowing flame. Anna is asleep on a couch in the foreground.

Dido sits at the window in the moonlight, looking out into the night. She gets up and moves restlessly about the room. She kneels before the altar, replenishing the incense. She comes finally to her sister, and, wakening her, tells of her struggle against the new love.

Dido (IV. 9-29):

O sister, what dread visions of the night invade

My troubled soul! What of this stranger lodged within

Our halls, how noble in his mien, how brave in heart,

Of what puissant arms! From heav’n in truth his race

Must be derived, for fear betokens low-born souls.

Alas, how tempest-tossed of fate was he! How to

The dregs the bitter cup of war’s reverses hath

He drained! If in my soul the purpose were not fixed

That not to any suitor would I yield myself

In wedlock, since the time when he who won my love

Was reft away, perchance I might have yielded now.

For sister, I confess it, since my husband’s fate,

Since that sad day when by his blood my father’s house

Was sprinkled, this of all men has my feelings moved.

Again I feel the force of passion’s sway. But no!

May I be gulfed within earth’s yawning depths; may Jove

Almighty hurl me with his thunders to the shades,

The pallid shades of Erebus and night profound,

Before, O constancy, I violate thy laws!

He took my heart who first engaged my maiden love.

Still may he keep his own, and in the silent tomb

Preserve my love inviolate.—

Anna (31-53):

O dearer to thy sister than the light of life,

Wilt thou consume thy youth in loneliness and grief,

And never know the sacred joys of motherhood,

The sweets of love? And dost thou think, that in the tomb

Thy husband’s sleeping spirit recks of this? Let be,

That never yet have other suitors moved thy heart

Which long has scorned the lords of Libya and of Tyre;

Let prince Iarbas be rejected and the lords

Of Africa’s heroic land: wilt still against

A pleasing love contend? And hast considered then

Whose are the powers upon the borders of thy realm?

Here are Gætulia’s cities, matchless race in war;

Here wild Numidians hedge thee round, and Ocean’s shoals;

While yonder lies the sandy desert parched and wild,

Where fierce Barcæans range. Why need I mention Tyre’s

Dark-looming cloud of war, thy brother’s threats? For me,

I think that through the favor of the gods and care

Of Juno hath Æneas drifted to our shores.

And to what glory shalt thou see thy city rise,

What strong far-reaching sway upreared on such a tie!

Assisted by the Trojan arms, our youthful state

Up to the very pinnacle of fame shall soar.

Then pray the favor of the gods, and give its due

To sacred hospitality. Lo, to thy hand

Is cause of dalliance, while still the blustering winds

Of winter sweep the sea, Orion’s storms prevail,

Their fleet is shattered, and the frowning heavens lower.

Dido, during this speech, has gone to her husband’s shrine. There is a mighty struggle in her soul between love and duty.

Barce, wakened from her sleep and seeing her mistress pale and anguish-stricken, throws herself before her. Dido finally yields and reaches her trembling hand to quench the censer. The old nurse clings to her in terrified appeal. Dido frees herself from her. She quenches the flame and draws the curtain before the shrine. Old Barce sits sobbing before the darkened altar.

Meanwhile the light has been changing into dawn and the sea and harbor begin to be visible through the open window. Dido crosses the chamber, and after a moment’s struggle draws back the curtains from before the recess where hang the brilliant garments laid aside during her widowhood. She takes down a purple mantle, and standing before a mirror, girds it about her with a golden girdle.

The sound of a trumpet and the shouts of the sailors are heard in the distance. Anna goes to the window, and seeing Æneas and his men below on the shore, draws Dido to the window. Dido gazes for a minute and then, filled with her new passion, goes forth with her sister to meet Æneas. Curtain.

Act II. Scene 2

A fragrant nook on Mount Ida. Across the stage at the first wing a low, broad marble wall (1), forming one end of a colonnade which leads back to an arch (2), through which the distant sea is visible (3). The columns at the first wing (4) and the wall between them are over-clambered by a flowering vine, which has strewn its delicate yellow petals over the wall and the marble floor before it. Behind the wall (5) a garden of brilliant blossoms, with a path leading through it to the arch in the background. There is the pleasant sound of falling water.

Venus, seated upon the low marble wall is discovered keeping watch over Ascanius who lies asleep before her his pink body hidden in a drift of yellow petals. The deep blue himation, which has fallen in graceful folds across the wall behind her, forms a rich contrast in color to the delicate tints of the marble, of the flowers, and of her own dress of tender pink. Juno in a brilliant purple dress, approaching through the garden, comes upon her in a fury of wrath.

Juno (93-104):

Fair fame, in sooth, and booty rich thou shalt obtain,

Thou and thy boy, a lasting name, if by the guile

Of two divinities one woman is o’ercome!

Nor have I failed of late to see the jealous fear

In which thou holdest these our Carthaginian walls.

But come, in such a strife what motive can we have?

Nay, rather shall we not a lasting peace secure

By Hymen’s bonds? Behold, thou hast what thou hast sought

With all thy soul: fair Dido burns with ardent love,

And feels its thrill of passion dominate her heart.

Then let us rule this people, thou and I, on terms

Of amity. Let Dido wed the Trojan prince,

And give to thee, as royal dowry, Tyria’s lords.

Venus (107-114):

How mad th’ opponent who would such fair terms refuse!

Or who would wish to strive by preference with thee!

If only fortune favor what thou hast proposed:

But of the fates am I uncertain, whether Jove

Be willing that the Trojan exiles and the men

Of Carthage reign in common and a lasting bond

Of amity cement. Thou art his wife. ‘T is right

For thee by prayer to try his will. Do thou lead on,

I follow.

Juno (115-126):

Mine the task thou sayest. Now the way

In which the matter may be perfected in brief

Will I reveal. Do thou attend my words.—The queen,

Unhappy Dido, and Æneas, to the wood

Prepare to lead the hunt, when first to-morrow’s sun

Hath reared his radiant head and with his shining beams

Revealed the world. On these, while beaters force the game,

And hem the glades with circling nets, will I a storm

Of rain and mingled hail pour down and rack the sky

From pole to pole. In all directions will they flee

Before the storm, and shield themselves in sheltering caves.

The queen and Trojan leader will together seek

The selfsame grot. And, if thy favoring purpose hold,

I shall in lasting union join and make them one.

Venus assents, and, bending over the sleeping boy, shows by a satiric smile that she perceives the purpose of her rival. Curtain.

Act II. Scene 3

A forest scene. Huge trees and moss-grown rocks. Across the back, a cliff in the face of which at the last wing on the left is the opening to a mighty cavern. Through the trees growing along the summit of this cliff, comes the shimmer of the distant sea.

Far and near through all the forest, trumpets are sounding. Attendants armed with spears and nets, and with hounds in leash for the chase, hurry across the scene. Dido, Anna, Æneas, Ascanius, followed by the entire court in brilliant array, cross the scene amid the flourish of trumpets.

All the costumes are very brilliant with gold, purple, deep blue, and wood green. Dido is dressed in purple and gold, Anna in brown and green with a leopard skin instead of a himation. Æneas is in full armor. All the Trojans and Carthaginians are dressed and armed for the chase.

One of the attendants has seated himself in the foreground to mend his broken bow. As the sound of the trumpets grows fainter, a band of Carthaginian youth, hurrying to join the hunt, descry him and stop to laugh at him, because he is left behind. He throws down his bow in disgust, and points in the direction of the hunt with a gesture of impatience.

Attendant (191-194):

Now look you, to our shores has come this Trojan prince

Whom Dido, our fair queen, has taken as her lord.

And now in dalliance fond the winter’s days they spend,

Unmindful of their heaven-appointed destinies,

And taken in the subtle snare of base desire.

Approval on the part of all the youth.

Meanwhile it has grown darker, and there comes a crash of thunder. All flee in terror. As the storm increases, the courtiers flee across the scene in every direction. The trumpets are heard calling through all the woods.

At last, amid the crash of thunder and the roar of the tempest, Dido and Æneas enter, seeking a place of shelter. Discovering the cavern, they flee to that. Lightning flashes, the thunder roars, the wild cries of the nymphs are heard.

The scene closes in almost utter darkness. Curtain.