That, heartless, I might fail thee in this final hour?
O sister, here hast thou destroyed thyself and me,
Thy people, thy Sidonian fathers and thy realm.
With soothing water let me bathe her flowing wounds,
And if there hovers on her lips the fleeting breath,
With my own lips I claim it in the kiss of death.
The sailors’ chorus sounds in the distance. Aroused by this, the dying queen half raises herself upon the couch. The servants throw open the casement and the Trojan ships are seen far away, sailing off over the sea.
Dido falls back lifeless. Curtain.