They soon reach a height which overlooks the new city of Carthage, and find themselves before a temple of Juno, upon whose architrave are sculptured scenes from the Trojan War. It is early morning, and the city is all a-buzz with toil of its inhabitants who urge on the many busy works. Æneas, homesick for his lost city, and long baffled in his search for his own promised home, cries out in longing as he looks upon this scene:
Yea, all, like busy bees throughout the flowery mead,
Are all astir with eager toil. O blessed toil!
O happy ye, whose walls already rise! But I,—
When shall I see my city and my city's walls?
Miller.[F]
[F] These quotations are made from Miller and Nelson's Dido, an Epic Tragedy, by permission of Silver, Burdett & Co.
Soon they discover the pictures on the architrave, and are much moved as well as comforted to know that here, so far from home, their heroic struggles are known and appreciated. And now the strains of music and the stir of an approaching throng is heard, and, themselves unseen, Æneas and Achates behold the beautiful and stately queen Dido entering the temple with her train of maidens and courtiers. The queen takes her seat and proceeds to hold an impromptu court, planning the work of the day, and assigning tasks to her lieutenants.
Again the approach of a more noisy throng is heard, and into the stately temple breaks a group of desperate men whom Æneas at once recognizes to be a part of his own band who had been cast up upon another part of the shore. They are followed by a mob of jeering Carthaginians. Old Ilioneus, one of the Trojans, pleads their cause before the queen in a speech of mingled supplication and reproach, while at the same time he bewails the loss of his beloved prince Æneas.
The queen receives the wanderers with open-handed generosity, disclaims all intentional harshness, bids the Trojans freely share her city and her realm, and expresses the wish that their king himself, Æneas, were before her. These, we may be sure, were glad words to Æneas and his companions. They at once stand forth before the eyes of the astonished throng, joyfully greet their comrades, and Æneas salutes the queen with grateful and courtly speech:
Lo, him you ask for! I am he,
Æneas, saved from Libya's sea.
O, only heart that deigns to mourn
For Ilium's cruel care!
That bids e'en us, poor relics, torn
From Danaan fury, all outworn
By earth and ocean, all forlorn,
Its home, it's city share!
We cannot thank you; no, nor they,
Our brethren of the Dardan race,
Who, driven from their ancestral place,
Throughout the wide world stray.
May heaven, if virtue claim its thought,
If justice yet avail for aught,
Heaven, and the sense of conscious right,
With worthier meed your acts requite!
What happy ages gave you birth?
What glorious sires begat such worth?
While rivers run into the deep,
While shadows o'er the hillside sweep,
While stars in heaven's fair pasture graze,
Shall live your honor, name, and praise,
Whate'er my destined home.
Conington.
The astonished Dido finds fitting words of welcome for her royal guest, again assures the Trojans that her city is their own, and proclaims a great feast on the ensuing night in honor of the distinguished strangers.
This feast is a scene of royal and barbaric splendor. The Tyrian lords and Trojan princes throng the banquet-hall with its rich tapestries and flashing lights, vessels of massive silver and of gold, while the bright-hued robes of Dido and her train add gladness and color to the scene. Amidst the feasting there was a song by an old minstrel, which he accompanied by the strains of his lyre. The song was upon the ever fascinating theme of natural phenomena, the powers of the air, the earth, the sea—all the dim mysteries of being. We are told that he sang about these things. Let us phrase them for his lyric measures.
Of the orb of the wandering moon I sing,
As she wheels through the darkening skies;
Where the storm-brooding band of the Hyades swing,
And the circling Triones arise;
Of the sun's struggling ball
Which the shadows appall
Till the menacing darkness flies;