O thou, who scorn’st the giant-slaying darts of Jove,
To thee I come and humbly pray thy fav’ring aid.
How on the sea, from land to land, thy brother fares,
Pursued by Juno’s unrelenting hate, is known
To thee, and often hast thou mingled in my grief.
Now Tyrian Dido holds him, and with fawning words
Delays his course; and much do I distrust and fear
The shelter which our envious rival Juno gives.
For, in this pregnant crisis of affairs, be sure
She will be active. Wherefore now my mind is bent