LXXX. "Mark this, compassionate these woes, and bow
To supplication. If the Fates demand—
Curst be his head!—that he escape me now,
And touch his haven, and float up to land.
If so Jove wills, and fixt his edicts stand,
Then, scourged with warfare by a daring race,
In vain for succour let him stretch his hand,
And see his people perish with disgrace,		712
An exile, torn from home and from his son's embrace.
LXXXI. "And when hard peace the traitor stoops to buy,
No realm be his, nor happy days in store.
Cut off in prime of manhood let him die,
And rot unburied on the sandy shore.
This dying curse, this utterance I pour,
The latest, with my life-blood,—this my prayer.
Them and their children's children evermore
Ye Tyrians, with immortal hate outwear.		721
This gift—'twill please me best—for Dido's shade prepare.

LXXXII. "This heritage be yours; no truce nor trust
'Twixt theirs and ours, no union or accord
Arise, [unknown Avenger] from our dust;
With fire and steel upon the Dardan horde
Mete out the measure of their crimes' reward.
To-day, to-morrow, for eternity
Fight, oft as ye are able—sword with sword,
Shore with opposing shore, and sea with sea;		730
Fight, Tyrians, all that are, and all that e'er shall be."
LXXXIII. So spake the queen, and pondered in her breast
How of her loathèd life to clip the thread,
Then briefly thus Sychæus' nurse addressed
(Her own at Tyre lay buried)—"Haste," she said,
"Dear Barce; call my sister; let her head
With living water from the lustral bough
Be sprinkled. Hither be the victims led,
And due atoning offerings, and thou		739
Bring forth the sacred wreath, and bind it on thy brow.
LXXXIV. "The sacrifice, prepared for Stygian Jove,
I purpose now to consummate, and pay
The last sad rites, and ease me of my love,
And burn the couch whereon the Dardan lay."
She spake; the old dame tottering hastes away.
Maddening stood Dido at the doom so dread,
With bloodshot eyes and trembling with dismay,
Her quivering cheeks flecked with the burning red,		748
Pale with approaching death, but yearning to be dead.
LXXXV. So bursting through the inner doors she flew
And, with wild frenzy, climbed the lofty pyre,
Then seized the scabbard he had left, and drew
The sword, ne'er given for an end so dire.
But when, with eyes still wistful with desire,
She viewed the bed that she had known too well,
The Ilian raiment and the chief's attire,
She paused, then musing, while the teardrops fell,		757
Sank on the fatal couch, and cried a last farewell:
LXXXVI. "Dear relics! loved while Fate and Jove were kind,
Receive this soul, and free me from my woe.
My life is lived; behold, the course assigned
By Fortune now is finished, and I go,
A shade majestic, to the world below,
A glorious city I have built, have seen
My walls, avenged my husband of his foe.
Thrice happy, ah! too happy had I been		766
Had Dardan ships, alas! not come to bring me teen!"
LXXXVII. She paused, and pressed her lips upon the bed.
"To die—and unavenged? Yea, let me die!
Thus—thus it joys to journey to the dead.
Let yon false Dardan with remorseful eye
Drink in this bale-fire from the deep, and sigh
To bear the omens of my death."—No more
She said, but swooned. The servants see her lie,
Sunk on the sword; they see the life-blood pour,		775
Reddening her tender hands, the weapon drenched with gore.
LXXXVIII. Then through the lofty palace rose a scream,
And madly Rumour riots, as she flies
Through the shocked town. The very houses seem
To groan, and shrieks, and sobbing and the cries
Of wailing women pierce the vaulted skies.
'Twas e'en as though all Carthage or old Tyre
Were falling, stormed by ruthless enemies,
While over roof and battlement and spire		784
And temples of the Gods rolled on the infuriate fire.