And when her maidens looked, lo! she had fallen upon the sword, and the blood was upon her hands. And a great cry went up through the palace, exceeding loud and bitter, even as if the enemy had taken Carthage or ancient Tyre, and the fire were mounting over the dwellings of men and of gods. And Anna, her sister, heard it, and rushing through the midst called her by name: “O my sister, was this thy purpose? Were the pile and the sword and the fire for this? Why wouldst thou not suffer that I should die with thee? For surely, my sister, thou hast slain thyself, and me, and thy people, and thy city. But give me water, ye maidens, that I may wash her wounds, and if there be any breath left in her, we may yet stay it.”
Then she climbed on to the pile, and caught her sister in her arms, and sought to staunch the blood with her garments. Three times did Dido strive to raise her eyes; three times did her spirit leave her. Three times she would have raised herself upon her elbow; three times she fell back upon the bed, looking with wandering eyes for the light, and groaning that she yet beheld it.
Then Juno, looking down from heaven, saw that her pain was long, and pitied her, and sent down Iris her messenger, that she might loose the soul that struggled to be free. For, seeing that she died, not by nature, nor yet by the hand of man, but before her time, and of her own madness, Queen Proserpine had not shred the ringlet from her head which she shreds from them that die. Wherefore Iris, flying down with dewy wings from heaven, with a thousand colors about her from the light of the sun, stood above her head and said: “I give thee to death, even as I am bidden, and loose thee from thy body.” Then she shred the lock, and Queen Dido gave up the ghost.
THE RACE OF THE FOUR GALLEYS
By H. L. Havell
On the night when Dido was keeping her last sorrowful vigil Æneas lay sleeping on the deck of his galley, having made all things ready for a start next day. But in his dreams he saw the youthful form of Mercury standing by him, perfect in grace and beauty, and heard these warning words: “Canst thou sleep, Æneas, on the very brink of peril? Away, fly from this coast, before thy path is beset with sword and brand. A woman’s heart is a fickle and slippery thing.”
Æneas started from his couch in affright, and cried to his men: “Up, comrades; take your oars, and let us be gone. A second time I have heard the voice of a god, and again the word is Fly!” And, drawing his sword, he cut the rope which moored his vessel to the shore. Swiftly the benches were manned, the calm waters eddied and roared under their sturdy strokes, and the whole fleet, urged by one impulse, swept out to sea.
The wind blew fair, and the towers of Carthage were already sinking beneath the horizon, when a great column of smoke shot up from the direction of Carthage, checkered by tongues of fire. It was the funeral pyre on which Dido’s body was burning; but the Trojans knew not this, and thinking that perhaps it was a signal to summon the Tyrian fleet for pursuit they redoubled their efforts, until the smoke column dwindled to a speck, and vanished, and nothing remained in view but sea and sky.
Meanwhile the wind had shifted to the north, the sky became overcast, and the waves grew black and threatening. Palinurus, the captain of the royal vessel, after anxiously scrutinizing the signs of the weather, came to Æneas, and said: “My lord, if Jupiter himself were my warrant, I could not hope to reach Italy in this wind. Everything forebodes a storm, and my counsel is that we run for shelter to the friendly harbor of Eryx, on the north coast of Sicily, where we are sure of a brotherly welcome. It is close at hand, unless my seamanship is at fault.”