was being equipped and the voyage got ready. She
storms in impotence of soul, and, all on fire, goes raving
through the city, like a Mænad[177] starting up at the rattle
of the sacred emblems, when the triennial orgies lash her
with the cry of Bacchus, and Cithæron’s yell calls her into 20
the night. At length she thus bespeaks Æneas, unaddressed
by him:—
“To hide, yes, hide your enormous crime, perfidious
wretch, did you hope that might be done—to steal away
in silence from my realm? Has our love no power to keep 25