headlong to the sea, like a bird which haunting the coast and
the fishy rocks flies low, close to the water. Even so was 5
he flying between earth and heaven, between Libya’s
sandy coast and the winds that swept it, leaving his
mother’s father behind, himself Cyllene’s progeny.
Soon as his winged feet alit among the huts of Carthage,
he sees Æneas founding towers and making houses new. 10
A sword was at his side, starred with yellow jaspers, and
a mantle drooped from his shoulders, ablaze with Tyrian
purple—a costly gift which Dido had made, varying the