But soon the chosen spouse of Jove perceived
the Queen's infection; and because the voice
of honor to such frenzy spoke not, she,
daughter of Saturn, unto Venus turned
and counselled thus: “How noble is the praise,
how glorious the spoils of victory,
for thee and for thy boy! Your names should be
in lasting, vast renown—that by the snare
of two great gods in league one woman fell!
It 'scapes me not that my protected realms
have ever been thy fear, and the proud halls
of Carthage thy vexation and annoy.
Why further go? Prithee, what useful end
has our long war? Why not from this day forth
perpetual peace and nuptial amity?
Hast thou not worked thy will? Behold and see
how Iove-sick Dido burns, and all her flesh
'The madness feels! So let our common grace
smile on a mingled people! Let her serve
a Phrygian husband, while thy hands receive
her Tyrian subjects for the bridal dower!”
In answer (reading the dissembler's mind
which unto Libyan shores were fain to shift
Italia's future throne) thus Venus spoke:
“'T were mad to spurn such favor, or by choice
be numbered with thy foes. But can it be
that fortune on thy noble counsel smiles?
To me Fate shows but dimly whether Jove
unto the Trojan wanderers ordains
a common city with the sons of Tyre,
with mingling blood and sworn, perpetual peace.
His wife thou art; it is thy rightful due
to plead to know his mind. Go, ask him, then!
For humbly I obey!” With instant word
Juno the Queen replied: “Leave that to me!
But in what wise our urgent task and grave
may soon be sped, I will in brief unfold
to thine attending ear. A royal hunt
in sylvan shades unhappy Dido gives
for her Aeneas, when to-morrow's dawn
uplifts its earliest ray and Titan's beam
shall first unveil the world. But I will pour
black storm-clouds with a burst of heavy hail
along their way; and as the huntsmen speed
to hem the wood with snares, I will arouse
all heaven with thunder. The attending train
shall scatter and be veiled in blinding dark,
while Dido and her hero out of Troy
to the same cavern fly. My auspices
I will declare—if thou alike wilt bless;
and yield her in true wedlock for his bride.
Such shall their spousal be!” To Juno's will
Cythera's Queen inclined assenting brow,
and laughed such guile to see. Aurora rose,
and left the ocean's rim. The city's gates
pour forth to greet the morn a gallant train
of huntsmen, bearing many a woven snare
and steel-tipped javelin; while to and fro
run the keen-scented dogs and Libyan squires.
The Queen still keeps her chamber; at her doors
the Punic lords await; her palfrey, brave
in gold and purple housing, paws the ground
and fiercely champs the foam-flecked bridle-rein.
At last, with numerous escort, forth she shines:
her Tyrian pall is bordered in bright hues,
her quiver, gold; her tresses are confined
only with gold; her robes of purple rare
meet in a golden clasp. To greet her come
the noble Phrygian guests; among them smiles
the boy Iulus; and in fair array
Aeneas, goodliest of all his train.
In such a guise Apollo (when he leaves
cold Lycian hills and Xanthus' frosty stream
to visit Delos to Latona dear)
ordains the song, while round his altars cry
the choirs of many islands, with the pied,
fantastic Agathyrsi; soon the god
moves o'er the Cynthian steep; his flowing hair
he binds with laurel garland and bright gold;
upon his shining shoulder as he goes
the arrows ring:—not less uplifted mien
Aeneas wore; from his illustrious brow
such beauty shone.
Soon to the mountains tall
the cavalcade comes nigh, to pathless haunts
of woodland creatures; the wild goats are seen,
from pointed crag descending leap by leap
down the steep ridges; in the vales below
are routed deer, that scour the spreading plain,
and mass their dust-blown squadrons in wild flight,
far from the mountain's bound. Ascanius
flushed with the sport, spurs on a mettled steed
from vale to vale, and many a flying herd
his chase outspeeds; but in his heart he prays
among these tame things suddenly to see
a tusky boar, or, leaping from the hills,
a growling mountain-lion, golden-maned.
Meanwhile low thunders in the distant sky
mutter confusedly; soon bursts in full
the storm-cloud and the hail. The Tyrian troop
is scattered wide; the chivalry of Troy,
with the young heir of Dardan's kingly line,
of Venus sprung, seek shelter where they may,
with sudden terror; down the deep ravines
the swollen torrents roar. In that same hour
Queen Dido and her hero out of Troy
to the same cavern fly. Old Mother-Earth
and wedlock-keeping Juno gave the sign;
the flash of lightnings on the conscious air
were torches to the bridal; from the hills
the wailing wood-nymphs sobbed a wedding song.
Such was that day of death, the source and spring
of many a woe. For Dido took no heed
of honor and good-name; nor did she mean
her loves to hide; but called the lawlessness
a marriage, and with phrases veiled her shame.
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