He spake: his mighty father's will straight did the God prepare
To compass, and his golden shoes first bindeth on his feet,
E'en those which o'er the ocean plain aloft on feathers fleet,240
Or over earth swift bear him on before the following gale:
And then his rod he takes, wherewith he calleth spirits pale
From Orcus, or those others sends sad Tartarus beneath,
And giveth sleep and takes away, and openeth eyes to death;
The rod that sways the ocean-winds and rules the cloudy rack.
Now winging way he comes in sight of peak and steepy back
Of flinty Atlas, on whose head all heaven is set adown—
Of Atlas with the piny head, and never-failing crown
Of mirky cloud, beat on with rain and all the winds that blow:249
A snow-cloak o'er his shoulders falls, and headlong streams overflow
His ancient chin; his bristling beard with plenteous ice is done.
There hovering on his poisèd wings stayed that Cyllenian one,
And all his gathered body thence sent headlong toward the waves;
Then like a bird the shores about, about the fishy caves,
Skims low adown upon the wing the sea-plain's face anigh,
Not otherwise 'twixt heaven and earth Cyllene's God did fly;
And now, his mother's father great a long way left behind,
Unto the sandy Libya's shore he clave the driving wind.
But when the cot-built place of earth he felt beneath his feet,
He saw Æneas founding towers and raising houses meet:260
Starred was the sword about him girt with yellow jasper stone,
The cloak that from his shoulders streamed with Tyrian purple shone:
Fair things that wealthy Dido's hand had given him for a gift,
Who with the gleam of thready gold the purple web did shift.
Then brake the God on him: "Forsooth, tall Carthage wilt thou found,
O lover, and a city fair raise up from out the ground?
Woe's me! thy lordship and thy deeds hast thou forgotten quite?
The very ruler of the Gods down from Olympus bright
Hath sent me, he whose majesty the earth and heavens obey;
This was the word he bade me bear adown the windy way.270
What dost thou? hoping for what hope in Libya dost thou wear
Thy days? if glorious fated things thine own soul may not stir,
And heart thou lackest for thy fame the coming toil to wed,
Think on Ascanius' dawn of days and hope inherited,
To whom is due the Italian realm and all the world of Rome!"
But when from out Cyllenius' mouth such word as this had come,
Amidst his speech he left the sight of men that die from day,
And mid thin air from eyes of folk he faded far away.
But sore the sight Æneas feared, and wit from out him drave;
His hair stood up, amidst his jaws the voice within him clave.280
Bewildered by that warning word, and by that God's command,
He yearneth to depart and flee, and leave the lovely land.
Ah, what to do? and with what word may he be bold to win
Peace of the Queen all mad with love? what wise shall he begin?
Hither and thither now he sends his mind all eager-swift,
And bears it diversely away and runs o'er every shift:
At last, as many things he weighed, this seemed the better rede.
Mnestheus, Sergestus, straight he calls, Sergestus stout at need,
And bids them dight ship silently and bring their folk to shore,
And dight their gear, and cause thereof with lying cover o'er;290
While he himself, since of all this kind Dido knoweth nought,
Nor of the ending of such love may ever have a thought,
Will seek to draw anigh the Queen, seek time wherein the word
May softliest be said to her, the matter lightliest stirred.
So all they glad his bidding do, and get them to the work.
But who may hoodwink loving eyes? She felt the treason lurk
About her life, and from the first saw all that was to be;
Fearing indeed where no fear was. That Rumour wickedly
Told her wild soul of ship-host armed and ready to set out;
The heart died in her; all aflame she raves the town about,300
E'en as a Thyad, who, soul-smit by holy turmoil, hears
The voice of Bacchus on the day that crowns the triple years,
And mirk Cithæron through the night hath called her clamorous.
Unto Æneas at the last herself she speaketh thus:
"O thou forsworn! and hast thou hoped with lies to cover o'er
Such wickedness, and silently to get thee from my shore?
Our love, it hath not held thee back? nor right hand given in faith
Awhile agone? nor Dido doomed to die a bitter death?
Yea, e'en beneath the winter heavens thy fleet thou gatherest
In haste to fare across the main amid the north's unrest310
O cruel! What if land unknown and stranger field and fold
Thou sought'st not; if the ancient Troy stood as in days of old;
Wouldst thou not still be seeking Troy across the wavy brine?
—Yea, me thou fleest. O by these tears, by that right hand of thine,
Since I myself have left myself unhappy nought but this,
And by our bridal of that day and early wedding bliss,
If ever I were worthy thanks, if sweet in aught I were,
Pity a falling house! If yet be left a space for prayer,
O then I pray thee put away this mind of evil things!
Because of thee the Libyan folks, and those Numidian kings,320
Hate me, and Tyrians are my foes: yea, and because of thee
My shame is gone, and that which was my heavenward road to be.
My early glory.—Guest, to whom leav'st thou thy dying friend?
Since of my husband nought but this is left me in the end.
Why bide I till Pygmalion comes to lay my walls alow,
Till taken by Getulian kings, Iarbas' slave I go?
Ah! if at least ere thou wert gone some child of thee I had!
If yet Æneas in mine house might play a little lad,
E'en but to bring aback the face of that beloved one,
Then were I never vanquished quite, nor utterly undone."330
She spake: he, warned by Jove's command, his eyes still steadfast held,
And, striving, thrust his sorrow back, howso his heart-strings swelled:
At last he answered shortly thus:
"O Queen, though words may fail
To tell thy lovingkindness, ne'er my heart belies the tale:
Still shall it be a joy to think of sweet Elissa's days
While of myself I yet may think, while breath my body sways.
Few words about the deed in hand: ne'er in my mind it came
As flees a thief to flee from thee; never the bridal flame
Did I hold forth, or plight my troth such matters to fulfil.
If fate would let me lead a life according to my will,340
Might I such wise as pleaseth me my troubles lay to rest,
By Troy-town surely would I bide among the ashes blest
Of my beloved, and Priam's house once more aloft should stand;
New Pergamus for vanquished men should rise beneath my hand.
But now Grynean Phœbus bids toward Italy the great
To reach my hand; to Italy biddeth the Lycian fate:
There is my love, there is my land. If Carthage braveries
And lovely look of Libyan walls hold fast thy Tyrian eyes,
Why wilt thou grudge the Teucrian men Ausonian dwelling-place?
If we too seek the outland realm, for us too be there grace!350
Father Anchises, whensoever night covereth up the earth
With dewy dark, and whensoe'er the bright stars come to birth,
His troubled image midst of sleep brings warning word and fear.
Ascanius weigheth on my heart with wrong of head so dear,
Whom I beguile of fateful fields and realm of Italy.
Yea, even now God's messenger sent from the Jove on high,
(Bear witness either head of us!) bore doom of God adown
The eager wind: I saw the God enter the fair-walled town
In simple light: I drank his voice, yea with these ears of mine.
Cease then to burn up with thy wail my burdened heart and thine!360
Perforce I follow Italy."
But now this long while, as he spake, athwart and wild she gazed,
And here and there her eyeballs rolled, and strayed with silent look
His body o'er; and at the last with heart of fire outbroke:
"Traitor! no Goddess brought thee forth, nor Dardanus was first
Of thine ill race; but Caucasus on spiky crags accurst
Begot thee; and Hyrcanian dugs of tigers suckled thee.
Why hide it now? why hold me back lest greater evil be?
For did he sigh the while I wept? his eyes—what were they moved?
Hath he been vanquished unto tears, or pitied her that loved?370
—Ah, is aught better now than aught, when Juno utter great,
Yea and the Father on all this with evil eyen wait?
All faith is gone! I took him in a stranded outcast, bare:
Yea in my very throne and land, ah fool! I gave him share.
His missing fleet I brought aback; from death I brought his friends.
—Woe! how the furies burn me up!—Now seer Apollo sends,
Now bidding send the Lycian lots; now sendeth Jove on high
His messenger to bear a curse adown the windy sky!
Such is the toil of Gods aloft; such are the cares that rack
Their souls serene.—I hold thee not, nor cast thy words aback.380
Go down the wind to Italy! seek lordship o'er the sea!
Only I hope amid the rocks, if any God there be,
Thou shalt drink in thy punishment and call on Dido's name
Full oft: and I, though gone away, will follow with black flame;
And when cold death from out my limbs my soul hath won away,
I will be with thee everywhere; O wretch, and thou shalt pay.
Ah, I shall hear; the tale of all shall reach me midst the dead."
Therewith she brake her speech athwart, and sick at heart she fled
The outer air, and turned away, and gat her from his eyes;
Leaving him dallying with his fear, and turning many wise390
The words to say. Her serving-maids the fainting body weak,
Bear back unto the marble room and on the pillows streak.
But god-fearing Æneas now, however fain he were
To soothe her grief and with soft speech assuage her weary care,
Much groaning, and the heart of him shaken with loving pain.
Yet went about the God's command and reached his ships again.
Then fall the Teucrians on indeed, and over all the shore
Roll the tall ships; the pitchy keel swims in the sea once more:
They bear the oars still leaf-bearing: they bring the might of wood,
Unwrought, so fain of flight they are,400
Lo now their flitting! how they run from all the town in haste!
E'en as the ants, the winter-wise, are gathered whiles to waste
A heap of corn, and toil that same beneath their roof to lay,
Forth goes the black troop mid the mead, and carries forth the prey
Over the grass in narrow line: some strive with shoulder-might
And push along a grain o'ergreat, some drive the line aright,
Or scourge the loiterers: hot the work fares all along the road.
Ah Dido, when thou sawest all what heart in thee abode!
What groans thou gavest when thou saw'st from tower-top the long strand
A-boil with men all up and down; the sea on every hand410
Before thine eyes by stir of men torn into all unrest!
O evil Love, where wilt thou not drive on a mortal breast?
Lo, she is driven to weep again and pray him to be kind,
And suppliant, in the bonds of love her lofty heart to bind,
Lest she should leave some way untried and die at last for nought.