XL. "Me dost thou fly? O, by these tears, thy hand
Late pledged, since madness leaves me naught beside,
But lovers' vows and wedlock's sacred band,
Scarce knit and now too soon to be untied;
If aught were pleasing in a new-won bride,
If sweet the memory of our marriage day,
O by these prayers—if place for prayer abide—
In mercy put that cruel mind away.		352
Pity a falling house, now hastening to decay.
XLI. "For thee the Libyans and each Nomad lord
Hate me, and Tyrians would their queen disown.
My wifely honour is a name abhorred,
And that chaste fame has perished, which alone
Perchance had raised me to a starry throne.
O think with whom thou leav'st me to thy fate,
Dear guest, no longer as a husband known.
Why stay I? till Pygmalion waste my state,		361
Or on Iarbas' wheels, a captive queen, to wait?

XLII. "Ah! if at least, ere thou had'st sailed away,
Some babe, the token of thy love, were born,
Some child Æneas, in my halls to play,
Like thee at least in look, I should not mourn
As altogether captive and forlorn."
She paused, but he, at Jove's command, his eyes
Keeps still unmoved, and, though with anguish torn,
Strives with his love, nor suffers it to rise,		370
But checks his heaving heart, and thus at length replies:
XLIII. "Never, dear Queen, will I disown the debt,
Thy love's deserts, too countless to repeat,
Nor ever fair Elissa's name forget,
While memory shall last, or pulses beat.
Few words are mine, for fewest words are meet.
Think not I meant—the very thought were shame—
Thief-like to veil my going with deceit.
I gave no promise of a husband's name,		379
Nor talked of ties like that, or wedlock's sacred flame.

XLIV. "Did Fate but let me shape my life at will,
And rest at pleasure, Ilion, first of all,
And Troy's sweet relics would I cling to still,
And Pergama and Priam's stately hall
Once more should cheer the vanquished for their fall.
But now [Grynoean Phoebus] bids me fare
To great Italia; to Italia call
The [Lycian lots,] and so the Fates declare.		388
There lies the land I love, my destined home is there.
XLV. "If thee, Tyre-born, a Libyan town detain,
What grudge to Troy Ausonia's land denies?
We too may seek a foreign realm to gain.
Me, oft as Night's damp shadows from the skies
Have shrouded Earth, and fiery stars arise,
My sire Anchises' troubled ghost in sleep
Upbraids and scares, and ever louder cries
The wrong, that on Ascanius' head I heap,		397
Whom from Hesperia's plains, his destined realms, I keep.

XLVI. "Now, too, Jove's messenger himself comes down—
Bear witness both—I heard the voice divine,
I saw the God just entering the town.
Cease then to vex me, nor thyself repine.
Heaven's will to Latium summons me, not mine."
Him, speaking thus and pleading but in vain,
She viewed askance, rolling her restless eyne,
Then scanned him o'er, long silent, in disdain,		406
And thus at length broke out, and gave her wrath the rein.