No More Learning

" Then he bids pluck the cable from the shore and shake loose
the sheets. Southern winds stretch the sails; we scud over the
foam-flecked waters, whither wind and pilot called our course. Now
wooded Zacynthos appears amid the waves, and Dulichium and Same and
Neritos' sheer rocks. We fly past the cliffs of Ithaca, Laertes' realm,
and curse the land, fostress of cruel Ulysses. Soon too Mount Leucata's
cloudy peaks are sighted, and Apollo dreaded of sailors. Hither we steer
wearily, and stand in to the little town. The anchor is cast from the
prow; the sterns are grounded on the beach.

'So at last having attained to land beyond our hopes, we purify
ourselves in Jove's worship, and kindle altars of offering, and make the
Actian shore gay with the games of Ilium. My comrades strip, and,
slippery with oil, exercise their ancestral contests; glad to have got
past so many Argive towns, and held on their flight through the
encircling foe. Meanwhile the sun rounds the great circle of the year,
and icy winter ruffles the waters with Northern gales. I fix against the
doorway a hollow shield of brass, that tall Abas had borne, and mark the
story with a verse: _These arms Aeneas from the conquering Greeks. _ Then
I bid leave the harbour and sit down at the thwarts; emulously my
comrades strike the water, and sweep through the seas. Soon we see the
cloud-capped Phaeacian towers sink away, skirt the shores of Epirus, and
enter the Chaonian haven and approach high Buthrotum town.

[294-328]'Here the rumour of a story beyond belief comes on our ears;
Helenus son of Priam is reigning over Greek towns, master of the bride
and sceptre of Pyrrhus the Aeacid; and Andromache hath again fallen to a
husband of her people. I stood amazed; and my heart kindled with
marvellous desire to accost him and learn of so strange a fortune. I
advance from the harbour, leaving the fleet ashore; just when haply
Andromache, in a grove before the town, by the waters of a feigned
Simois, was pouring libation to the dust, and calling Hector's ghost to
a tomb with his name, on an empty turfed green with two altars that she
had consecrated, a wellspring of tears. When she caught sight of me
coming, and saw distractedly the encircling arms of Troy,
terror-stricken at the vision marvellously shewn, her gaze fixed, and
the heat left her frame. She swoons away, and hardly at last speaks
after long interval: "Comest thou then a real face, a real messenger to
me, goddess-born? livest thou? or if sweet light is fled, ah, where is
Hector? " She spoke, and bursting into tears filled all the place with
her crying. Just a few words I force up, and deeply moved gasp out in
broken accents: "I live indeed, I live on through all extremities; doubt
not, for real are the forms thou seest . . . Alas! after such an
husband, what fate receives thy fall? or what worthier fortune revisits
thee? Dost thou, Hector's Andromache, keep bonds of marriage with
Pyrrhus? " She cast down her countenance, and spoke with lowered voice:

'"O single in happy eminence that maiden daughter of Priam, sentenced to
die under high Troy town at an enemy's grave, who never bore the shame
of the lot, nor came a captive to her victorious master's bed! We,
sailing over alien seas from our burning land, have endured the
haughty youthful pride of Achilles' seed, and borne children in
slavery: he thereafter, wooing Leda's Hermione and a Lacedaemonian
[329-363]marriage, passed me over to Helenus' keeping, a bondwoman to a
bondman. But him Orestes, aflame with passionate desire for his stolen
bride, and driven by the furies of crime, catches unguarded and murders
at his ancestral altars. At Neoptolemus' death a share of his realm fell
to Helenus' hands, who named the plains Chaonian, and called all the
land Chaonia after Chaon of Troy, and built withal a Pergama and this
Ilian citadel on the hills. But to thee how did winds, how fates give
passage? or whose divinity landed thee all unwitting on our coasts? what
of the boy Ascanius? lives he yet, and draws breath, thy darling, whom
Troy's . . . Yet hath the child affection for his lost mother? is he
roused to the valour of old and the spirit of manhood by his father
Aeneas, by his uncle Hector? "

'Such words she poured forth weeping, and prolonged the vain wail; when
the hero Helenus son of Priam approaches from the town with a great
company, knows us for his kin, and leads us joyfully to his gates,
shedding a many tears at every word. I advance and recognise a little
Troy, and a copy of the great Pergama, and a dry brook with the name of
Xanthus, and clasp a Scaean gateway. Therewithal my Teucrians make
holiday in the friendly town. The king entertained them in his spacious
colonnades; in the central hall they poured goblets of wine in libation,
and held the cups while the feast was served on gold.

'And now a day and another day hath sped; the breezes woo our sails, and
the canvas blows out to the swelling south. With these words I accost
the prophet, and thus make request:

'"Son of Troy, interpreter of the gods, whose sense is open to Phoebus'
influences, his tripods and laurels, to stars and tongues of birds and
auguries of prosperous flight, tell me now,--for the voice of revelation
was all favourable to my course, and all divine influence counselled me
to [364-396]seek Italy and explore remote lands; only Celaeno the Harpy
prophesies of strange portents, a horror to tell, and cries out of wrath
and bale and foul hunger,--what perils are the first to shun? or in what
guidance may I overcome these sore labours? "

'Hereat Helenus, first suing for divine favour with fit sacrifice of
steers, and unbinding from his head the chaplets of consecration, leads
me in his hand to thy courts, O Phoebus, thrilled with the fulness of
the deity, and then utters these prophetic words from his augural lips:

'"Goddess-born: since there is clear assurance that under high omens
thou dost voyage through the deep; so the king of the gods allots
destiny and unfolds change; this is the circle of ordinance; a few
things out of many I will unfold to thee in speech, that so thou mayest
more safely traverse the seas of thy sojourn, and find rest in the
Ausonian haven; for Helenus is forbidden by the destinies to know, and
by Juno daughter of Saturn to utter more: first of all, the Italy thou
deemest now nigh, and close at hand, unwitting! the harbours thou
wouldst enter, far are they sundered by a long and trackless track
through length of lands. First must the Trinacrian wave clog thine oar,
and thy ships traverse the salt Ausonian plain, by the infernal pools
and Aeaean Circe's isle, ere thou mayest build thy city in safety on a
peaceful land. I will tell thee the token, and do thou keep it close in
thine heart. When in thy perplexity, beside the wave of a sequestered
river, a great sow shall be discovered lying under the oaks on the
brink, with her newborn litter of thirty, couched white on the ground,
her white brood about her teats; that shall be the place of the city,
that the appointed rest from thy toils. Neither shrink thou at the gnawn
tables that await thee; the fates will find a way, and Apollo aid thy
call. These lands moreover, on this nearest border of the Italian shore
[397-432]that our own sea's tide washes, flee thou: evil Greeks dwell
in all their towns. Here the Locrians of Narycos have set their city,
and here Lyctian Idomeneus beset the Sallentine plains with soldiery;
here is the town of the Meliboean captain, Philoctetes' little Petelia
fenced by her wall. Nay, when thy fleets have crossed overseas and lie
at anchor, when now thou rearest altars and payest vows on the beach,
veil thine hair with a purple garment for covering, that no hostile face
at thy divine worship may meet thee amid the holy fires and make void
the omens. This fashion of sacrifice keep thou, thyself and thy
comrades, and let thy children abide in this pure observance. But when
at thy departure the wind hath borne thee to the Sicilian coast, and the
barred straits of Pelorus open out, steer for the left-hand country and
the long circuit of the seas on the left hand; shun the shore and water
on thy right. These lands, they say, of old broke asunder, torn and
upheaved by vast force, when either country was one and undivided; the
ocean burst in between, cutting off with its waves the Hesperian from
the Sicilian coast, and with narrow tide washes tilth and town along the
severance of shore. On the right Scylla keeps guard, on the left
unassuaged Charybdis, who thrice swallows the vast flood sheer down her
swirling gulf, and ever again hurls it upward, lashing the sky with
water. But Scylla lies prisoned in her cavern's blind recesses,
thrusting forth her mouth and drawing ships upon the rocks. In front her
face is human, and her breast fair as a maiden's to the waist down;
behind she is a sea-dragon of monstrous frame, with dolphins' tails
joined on her wolf-girt belly. Better to track the goal of Trinacrian
Pachynus, lingering and wheeling round through long spaces, than once
catch sight of misshapen Scylla deep in her dreary cavern, and of the
rocks that ring to her sea-coloured hounds. Moreover, if
[433-466]Helenus hath aught of foresight or his prophecy of assurance,
if Apollo fills his spirit with the truth, this one thing, goddess-born,
one thing for all will I foretell thee, and again and again repeat my
counsel: to great Juno's deity be thy first prayer and worship; to Juno
utter thy willing vows, and overcome thy mighty mistress with gifts and
supplications; so at last thou shalt leave Trinacria behind, and be sped
in triumph to the Italian borders. When borne hither thou drawest nigh
the Cymaean city, the haunted lakes and rustling woods of Avernus, thou
shalt behold the raving prophetess who deep in the rock chants of fate,
and marks down her words on leaves. What verses she writes down on them,
the maiden sorts into order and shuts behind her in the cave; they stay
in their places unstirred and quit not their rank. But when at the turn
of the hinge the light wind from the doorway stirs them, and disarranges
the delicate foliage, never after does she trouble to capture them as
they flutter about the hollow rock, nor restore their places or join the
verses; men depart without counsel, and hate the Sibyl's dwelling. Here
let no waste in delay be of such account to thee (though thy company
chide, and the passage call thy sails strongly to the deep, and thou
mayest fill out their folds to thy desire) that thou do not approach the
prophetess, and plead with prayers that she herself utter her oracles
and deign to loose the accents from her lips. The nations of Italy and
the wars to come, and the fashion whereby every toil may be avoided or
endured, she shall unfold to thee, and grant her worshipper prosperous
passage. Thus far is our voice allowed to counsel thee: go thy way, and
exalt Troy to heaven by thy deeds. "

'This the seer uttered with friendly lips; then orders gifts to be
carried to my ships, of heavy gold and sawn ivory, and loads the hulls
with massy silver and cauldrons [467-502]of Dodona, a mail coat
triple-woven with hooks of gold, and a helmet splendid with spike and
tressed plumes, the armour of Neoptolemus. My father too hath his gifts.
Horses besides he brings, and grooms . . . fills up the tale of our
oarsmen, and equips my crews with arms.

'Meanwhile Anchises bade the fleet set their sails, that the fair wind
might meet no delay. Him Phoebus' interpreter accosts with high
courtesy: "Anchises, honoured with the splendour of Venus' espousal, the
gods' charge, twice rescued from the fallen towers of Troy, lo! the land
of Ausonia is before thee: sail thou and seize it. And yet needs must
thou float past it on the sea; far away lies the quarter of Ausonia that
is revealed of Apollo. Go," he continues, "happy in thy son's affection:
why do I run on further, and delay the rising winds in talk? " Andromache
too, sad at this last parting, brings figured raiment with woof of gold,
and a Phrygian scarf for Ascanius, and wearies not in courtesy, loading
him with gifts from the loom. "Take these too," so says she, "my child,
to be memorials to thee of my hands, and testify long hence the love of
Andromache wife of Hector. Take these last gifts of thy kinsfolk, O sole
surviving likeness to me of my own Astyanax! Such was he, in eyes and
hands and features; and now his equal age were growing into manhood like
thine. "

'To them as I departed I spoke with starting tears: "Live happily, as
they do whose fortunes are perfected! We are summoned ever from fate to
fate. For you there is rest in store, and no ocean floor to furrow, no
ever-retreating Ausonian fields to pursue. You see a pictured Xanthus,
and a Troy your own hands have built; with better omens, I pray, and to
be less open to the Greeks. If ever I enter Tiber and Tiber's bordering
fields, and see a city granted to my nation, then of these kindred towns
[503-537]and allied peoples in Epirus and Hesperia, which have the same
Dardanus for founder, and whose story is one, of both will our hearts
make a single Troy. Let that charge await our posterity. "

'We put out to sea, keeping the Ceraunian mountains close at hand,
whence is the shortest passage and seaway to Italy. The sun sets
meanwhile, and the dusky hills grow dim. We choose a place, and fling
ourselves on the lap of earth at the water's edge, and, allotting the
oars, spread ourselves on the dry beach for refreshment: the dew of
slumber falls on our weary limbs. Not yet had Night driven of the Hours
climbed her mid arch; Palinurus rises lightly from his couch, explores
all the winds, and listens to catch a breeze; he marks the
constellations gliding together through the silent sky, Arcturus, the
rainy Hyades and the twin Oxen, and scans Orion in his armour of gold.
When he sees the clear sky quite unbroken, he gives from the stern his
shrill signal; we disencamp and explore the way, and spread the wings of
our sails. And now reddening Dawn had chased away the stars, when we
descry afar dim hills and the low line of Italy. Achates first raises
the cry of _Italy_; and with joyous shouts my comrades salute Italy.
Then lord Anchises enwreathed a great bowl and filled it up with wine;
and called on the gods, standing high astern . . . "Gods sovereign over
sea and land and weather! bring wind to ease our way, and breathe
favourably. " The breezes freshen at his prayer, and now the harbour
opens out nearer at hand, and a temple appears on the Fort of Minerva.
My comrades furl the sails and swing the prows to shore. The harbour is
scooped into an arch by the Eastern flood; reefs run out and foam with
the salt spray; itself it lies concealed; turreted walls of rock let
down their arms on either hand, and the temple retreats from the beach.
Here, an inaugural sight, four horses of snowy [538-570]whiteness are
grazing abroad on the grassy plain. And lord Anchises: "War dost thou
carry, land of our sojourn; horses are armed in war, and menace of war
is in this herd. But yet these same beasts are wont in time to enter
harness, and carry yoke and bit in concord; there is hope of peace too,"
says he. Then we pray to the holy deity, Pallas of the clangorous arms,
the first to welcome our cheers. And before the altars we veil our heads
in Phrygian garments, and duly, after the counsel Helenus had urged
deepest on us, pay the bidden burnt-sacrifice to Juno of Argos.

'Without delay, once our vows are fully paid, we round to the arms of
our sailyards and leave the dwellings and menacing fields of the Grecian
people. Next is descried the bay of Tarentum, town, if rumour is true,
of Hercules. Over against it the goddess of Lacinium rears her head,
with the towers of Caulon, and Scylaceum wrecker of ships. Then
Trinacrian Aetna is descried in the distance rising from the waves, and
we hear from afar a great roaring of the sea on beaten rocks, and broken
noises by the shore: the channels boil up, and the surge churns with
sand. And lord Anchises: "Of a surety this is that Charybdis; of these
cliffs, these awful rocks did Helenus prophesy. Out, O comrades, and
rise together to the oars. " Even as bidden they do; and first Palinurus
swung the gurgling prow leftward through the water; to the left all our
squadron bent with oar and wind. We are lifted skyward on the crescent
wave, and again sunk deep into the nether world as the water is sucked
away. Thrice amid their rocky caverns the cliffs uttered a cry; thrice
we see the foam flung out, and the stars through a dripping veil.
Meanwhile the wind falls with sundown; and weary and ignorant of the way
we glide on to the Cyclopes' coast.

'There lies a harbour large and unstirred by the winds'
[571-604]entrance; but nigh it Aetna thunders awfully in wrack, and
ever and again hurls a black cloud into the sky, smoking with boiling
pitch and embers white hot, and heaves balls of flame flickering up to
the stars: ever and again vomits out on high crags from the torn
entrails of the mountain, tosses up masses of molten rock with a groan,
and boils forth from the bottom. Rumour is that this mass weighs down
the body of Enceladus, half-consumed by the thunderbolt, and mighty
Aetna laid over him suspires the flame that bursts from her furnaces;
and so often as he changes his weary side, all Trinacria shudders and
moans, veiling the sky in smoke. That night we spend in cover of the
forest among portentous horrors, and see not from what source the noise
comes. For neither did the stars show their fires, nor was the vault of
constellated sky clear; but vapours blotted heaven, and the moon was
held in a storm-cloud through dead of night.

'And now the morrow was rising in the early east, and the dewy darkness
rolled away from the sky by Dawn, when sudden out of the forest advances
a human shape strange and unknown, worn with uttermost hunger and
pitiably attired, and stretches entreating hands towards the shore. We
look back. Filthy and wretched, with shaggy beard and a coat pinned
together with thorns, he was yet a Greek, and had been sent of old to
Troy in his father's arms. And he, when he saw afar the Dardanian habits
and armour of Troy, hung back a little in terror at the sight, and
stayed his steps; then ran headlong to the shore with weeping and
prayers: "By the heavens I beseech you, by the heavenly powers and this
luminous sky that gives us breath, take me up, O Trojans, carry me away
to any land soever, and it will be enough. I know I am one out of the
Grecian fleets, I confess I warred against the household gods of Ilium;
for that, if our wrong and guilt is so great, throw [605-639]me
piecemeal on the flood or plunge me in the waste sea. If I do perish,
gladly will I perish at human hands. " He ended; and clung clasping our
knees and grovelling at them. We encourage him to tell who he is and of
what blood born, and reveal how Fortune pursues him since then. Lord
Anchises after little delay gives him his hand, and strengthens his
courage by visible pledge. At last, laying aside his terror, he speaks
thus:

'"I am from an Ithacan home, Achemenides by name, set out for Troy in
luckless Ulysses' company; poor was my father Adamastus, and would God
fortune had stayed thus! Here my comrades abandoned me in the Cyclops'
vast cave, mindless of me while they hurry away from the barbarous
gates. It is a house of gore and blood-stained feasts, dim and huge
within. Himself he is great of stature and knocks at the lofty sky
(gods, take away a curse like this from earth! ) to none gracious in
aspect or courteous of speech. He feeds on the flesh and dark blood of
wretched men. I myself saw, when he caught the bodies of two of us with
his great hand, and lying back in the middle of the cave crushed them on
the rock, and the courts splashed and swam with gore; I saw when he
champed the flesh adrip with dark clots of blood, and the warm limbs
quivered under his teeth. Yet not unavenged. Ulysses brooked not this,
nor even in such straits did the Ithacan forget himself. For so soon as
he, gorged with his feast and buried in wine, lay with bent neck
sprawling huge over the cave, in his sleep vomiting gore and gobbets
mixed with wine and blood, we, praying to the great gods and with parts
allotted, pour at once all round him, and pierce with a sharp weapon the
huge eye that lay sunk single under his savage brow, in fashion of an
Argolic shield or the lamp of the moon; and at last we exultingly avenge
the ghosts of our comrades. But fly, O wretched men, fly [640-674]and
pluck the cable from the beach. . . . For even in the shape and stature
of Polyphemus, when he shuts his fleeced flocks and drains their udders
in the cave's covert, an hundred other horrible Cyclopes dwell all about
this shore and stray on the mountain heights. Thrice now does the horned
moon fill out her light, while I linger in life among desolate lairs and
haunts of wild beasts in the woodland, and from a rock survey the giant
Cyclopes and shudder at their cries and echoing feet. The boughs yield a
miserable sustenance, berries and stony sloes, and plants torn up by the
root feed me. Sweeping all the view, I at last espied this fleet
standing in to shore. On it, whatsoever it were, I cast myself; it is
enough to have escaped the accursed tribe. Do you rather, by any death
you will, destroy this life of mine. "

'Scarcely had he spoken thus, when on the mountain top we see
shepherding his flocks a vast moving mass, Polyphemus himself seeking
the shores he knew, a horror ominous, shapeless, huge, bereft of sight.
A pine lopped by his hand guides and steadies his footsteps. His fleeced
sheep attend him, this his single delight and solace in ill. . . . After
he hath touched the deep flood and come to the sea, he washes in it the
blood that oozes from his eye-socket, grinding his teeth with groans;
and now he strides through the sea up to his middle, nor yet does the
wave wet his towering sides. We hurry far away in precipitate flight,
with the suppliant who had so well merited rescue; and silently cut the
cable, and bending forward sweep the sea with emulous oars. He heard,
and turned his steps towards the echoing sound. But when he may in no
wise lay hands on us, nor can fathom the Ionian waves in pursuit, he
raises a vast cry, at which the sea and all his waves shuddered, and the
deep land of Italy was startled, and Aetna's vaulted caverns moaned. But
the tribe of the [675-709]Cyclopes, roused from the high wooded hills,
run to the harbour and fill the shore. We descry the Aetnean brotherhood
standing impotent with scowling eye, their stately heads up to heaven, a
dreadful consistory; even as on a mountain summit stand oaks high in air
or coned cypresses, a high forest of Jove or covert of Diana. Sharp fear
urges us to shake out the sheets in reckless haste, and spread our sails
to the favouring wind. Yet Helenus' commands counsel that our course
keep not the way between Scylla and Charybdis, the very edge of death on
either hand. We are resolved to turn our canvas back. And lo! from the
narrow fastness of Pelorus the North wind comes down and reaches us. I
sail past Pantagias' mouth with its living stone, the Megarian bay, and
low-lying Thapsus. Such names did Achemenides, of luckless Ulysses'
company, point out as he retraced his wanderings along the returning
shores.

'Stretched in front of a bay of Sicily lies an islet over against
wavebeat Plemyrium; they of old called it Ortygia. Hither Alpheus the
river of Elis, so rumour runs, hath cloven a secret passage beneath the
sea, and now through thy well-head, Arethusa, mingles with the Sicilian
waves. We adore as bidden the great deities of the ground; and thence I
cross the fertile soil of Helorus in the marsh. Next we graze the high
reefs and jutting rocks of Pachynus; and far off appears Camarina,
forbidden for ever by oracles to move, and the Geloan plains, and vast
Gela named after its river. Then Acragas on the steep, once the breeder
of noble horses, displays its massive walls in the distance; and with
granted breeze I leave thee behind, palm-girt Selinus, and thread the
difficult shoals and blind reefs of Lilybaeum. Thereon Drepanum receives
me in its haven and joyless border. Here, so many tempestuous seas
outgone, alas! my father, the solace of every care and chance, Anchises
is [710-718]lost to me. Here thou, dear lord, abandonest me in
weariness, alas! rescued in vain from peril and doom. Not Helenus the
prophet, though he counselled of many a terror, not boding Celaeno
foretold me of this grief. This was the last agony, this the goal of the
long ways; thence it was I had departed when God landed me on your
coasts. '

Thus lord Aeneas with all attent retold alone the divine doom and the
history of his goings. At last he was hushed, and here in silence made
an end.




BOOK FOURTH

THE LOVE OF DIDO, AND HER END


But the Queen, long ere now pierced with sore distress, feeds the wound
with her life-blood, and catches the fire unseen. Again and again his
own valiance and his line's renown flood back upon her spirit; look and
accent cling fast in her bosom, and the pain allows not rest or calm to
her limbs. The morrow's dawn bore the torch of Phoebus across the earth,
and had rolled away the dewy darkness from the sky, when, scarce
herself, she thus opens her confidence to her sister:

'Anna, my sister, such dreams of terror thrill me through! What guest
unknown is this who hath entered our dwelling? How high his mien! how
brave in heart as in arms! I believe it well, with no vain assurance,
his blood is divine. Fear proves the vulgar spirit. Alas, by what
destinies is he driven! what wars outgone he chronicled! Were my mind
not planted, fixed and immoveable, to ally myself to none in wedlock
since my love of old was false to me in the treachery of death; were I
not sick to the heart of bridal torch and chamber, to this temptation
alone I might haply yield. Anna, I will confess it; since Sychaeus mine
husband met his piteous doom, and our household was shattered by a
brother's murder, he only hath [22-55]touched mine heart and stirred
the balance of my soul. I know the prints of the ancient flame.
But
rather, I pray, may earth first yawn deep for me, or the Lord omnipotent
hurl me with his thunderbolt into gloom, the pallid gloom and profound
night of Erebus, ere I soil thee, mine honour, or unloose thy laws. He
took my love away who made me one with him long ago; he shall keep it
with him, and guard it in the tomb. ' She spoke, and welling tears filled
the bosom of her gown.

Anna replies: 'O dearer than the daylight to thy sister, wilt thou
waste, sad and alone, all thy length of youth, and know not the
sweetness of motherhood, nor love's bounty? Deemest thou the ashes care
for that, or the ghost within the tomb? Be it so: in days gone by no
wooers bent thy sorrow, not in Libya, not ere then in Tyre; Iarbas was
slighted, and other princes nurtured by the triumphal land of Africa;
wilt thou contend so with a love to thy liking? nor does it cross thy
mind whose are these fields about thy dwelling? On this side are the
Gaetulian towns, a race unconquerable in war; the reinless Numidian
riders and the grim Syrtis hem thee in; on this lies a thirsty tract of
desert, swept by the raiders of Barca. Why speak of the war gathering
from Tyre, and thy brother's menaces? . . . With gods' auspices to my
thinking, and with Juno's favour, hath the Ilian fleet held on hither
before the gale. What a city wilt thou discern here, O sister! what a
realm will rise on such a union! the arms of Troy ranged with ours, what
glory will exalt the Punic state! Do thou only, asking divine favour
with peace-offerings, be bounteous in welcome and draw out reasons for
delay, while the storm rages at sea and Orion is wet, and his ships are
shattered and the sky unvoyageable. ' With these words she made the fire
of love flame up in her spirit, put hope in her wavering soul, and let
honour slip away.

[56-90]First they visit the shrines, and desire grace from altar to
altar; they sacrifice sheep fitly chosen to Ceres the Lawgiver, to
Phoebus and lord Lyaeus, to Juno before all, guardian of the marriage
bond. Dido herself, excellent in beauty, holds the cup in her hand, and
pours libation between the horns of a milk-white cow, or moves in state
to the rich altars before the gods' presences, day by day renewing her
gifts, and gazing athirst into the breasts of cattle laid open to take
counsel from the throbbing entrails. Ah, witless souls of soothsayers!
how may vows or shrines help her madness? all the while the subtle flame
consumes her inly, and deep in her breast the wound is silent and alive.
Stung to misery, Dido wanders in frenzy all down the city, even as an
arrow-stricken deer, whom, far and heedless amid the Cretan woodland, a
shepherd archer hath pierced and left the flying steel in her unaware;
she ranges in flight the Dictaean forest lawns; fast in her side clings
the deadly reed. Now she leads Aeneas with her through the town, and
displays her Sidonian treasure and ordered city; she essays to speak,
and breaks off half-way in utterance. Now, as day wanes, she seeks the
repeated banquet, and again madly pleads to hear the agonies of Ilium,
and again hangs on the teller's lips. Thereafter, when all are gone
their ways, and the dim moon in turn quenches her light, and the setting
stars counsel to sleep, alone in the empty house she mourns, and flings
herself on the couch he left: distant she hears and sees him in the
distance; or enthralled by the look he has of his father, she holds
Ascanius on her lap, if so she may steal the love she may not utter. No
more do the unfinished towers rise, no more do the people exercise in
arms, nor work for safety in war on harbour or bastion; the works hang
broken off, vast looming walls and engines towering into the sky.

So soon as she perceives her thus fast in the toils, and [91-124]madly
careless of her name, Jove's beloved wife, daughter of Saturn, accosts
Venus thus:

'Noble indeed is the fame and splendid the spoils you win, thou and that
boy of thine, and mighty the renown of deity, if two gods have
vanquished one woman by treachery. Nor am I so blind to thy terror of
our town, thine old suspicion of the high house of Carthage. But what
shall be the end? or why all this contest now? Nay, rather let us work
an enduring peace and a bridal compact. Thou hast what all thy soul
desired; Dido is on fire with love, and hath caught the madness through
and through. Then rule we this people jointly in equal lordship; allow
her to be a Phrygian husband's slave, and to lay her Tyrians for dowry
in thine hand. '

To her--for she knew the dissembled purpose of her words, to turn the
Teucrian kingdom away to the coasts of Libya--Venus thus began in
answer: 'Who so mad as to reject these terms, or choose rather to try
the fortune of war with thee? if only when done, as thou sayest, fortune
follow. But I move in uncertainty of Jove's ordinance, whether he will
that Tyrians and wanderers from Troy be one city, or approve the
mingling of peoples and the treaty of union. Thou art his wife, and thy
prayers may essay his soul. Go on; I will follow. '

Then Queen Juno thus rejoined: 'That task shall be mine. Now, by what
means the present need may be fulfilled, attend and I will explain in
brief. Aeneas and Dido (alas and woe for her! ) are to go hunting
together in the woodland when to-morrow's rising sun goes forth and his
rays unveil the world. On them, while the beaters run up and down, and
the lawns are girt with toils, will I pour down a blackening rain-cloud
mingled with hail, and startle all the sky in thunder. Their company
will scatter for shelter in the dim darkness; Dido and the Trojan
captain [125-159]shall take refuge in the same cavern. I will be there,
and if thy goodwill is assured me, I will unite them in wedlock, and
make her wholly his; here shall Hymen be present. ' The Cytherean gave
ready assent to her request, and laughed at the wily invention.

Meanwhile Dawn rises forth of ocean. A chosen company issue from the
gates while the morning star is high; they pour forth with meshed nets,
toils, broad-headed hunting spears, Massylian horsemen and sinewy
sleuth-hounds. At her doorway the chief of Carthage await their queen,
who yet lingers in her chamber, and her horse stands splendid in gold
and purple with clattering feet and jaws champing on the foamy bit. At
last she comes forth amid a great thronging train, girt in a Sidonian
mantle, broidered with needlework; her quiver is of gold, her tresses
knotted into gold, a golden buckle clasps up her crimson gown.
Therewithal the Phrygian train advances with joyous Iulus. Himself first
and foremost of all, Aeneas joins her company and unites his party to
hers: even as Apollo, when he leaves wintry Lycia and the streams of
Xanthus to visit his mother's Delos, and renews the dance, while Cretans
and Dryopes and painted Agathyrsians mingle clamorous about his altars:
himself he treads the Cynthian ridges, and plaits his flowing hair with
soft heavy sprays and entwines it with gold; the arrows rattle on his
shoulder: as lightly as he went Aeneas; such glow and beauty is on his
princely face. When they are come to the mountain heights and pathless
coverts, lo, wild goats driven from the cliff-tops run down the ridge;
in another quarter stags speed over the open plain and gather their
flying column in a cloud of dust as they leave the hills. But the boy
Ascanius is in the valleys, exultant on his fiery horse, and gallops
past one and another, praying that among the unwarlike herds a foaming
boar may issue or a tawny lion descend the hill.

[160-194]Meanwhile the sky begins to thicken and roar aloud. A
rain-cloud comes down mingled with hail; the Tyrian train and the men of
Troy, and the Dardanian boy of Venus' son scatter in fear, and seek
shelter far over the fields. Streams pour from the hills. Dido and the
Trojan captain take refuge in the same cavern. Primeval Earth and Juno
the bridesmaid give the sign; fires flash out high in air, witnessing
the union, and Nymphs cry aloud on the mountain-top. That day opened the
gate of death and the springs of ill. For now Dido recks not of eye or
tongue, nor sets her heart on love in secret: she calls it marriage, and
with this name veils her fall.

Straightway Rumour runs through the great cities of Libya,--Rumour, than
whom none other is more swift to mischief; she thrives on restlessness
and gains strength by going: at first small and timorous; soon she lifts
herself on high and paces the ground with head hidden among the clouds.
Her, one saith, Mother Earth, when stung by wrath against the gods, bore
last sister to Coeus and Enceladus, fleet-footed and swift of wing,
ominous, awful, vast; for every feather on her body is a waking eye
beneath, wonderful to tell, and a tongue, and as many loud lips and
straining ears. By night she flits between sky and land, shrilling
through the dusk, and droops not her lids in sweet slumber; in daylight
she sits on guard upon tall towers or the ridge of the house-roof, and
makes great cities afraid; obstinate in perverseness and forgery no less
than messenger of truth. She then exultingly filled the countries with
manifold talk, and blazoned alike what was done and undone: one Aeneas
is come, born of Trojan blood; on him beautiful Dido thinks no shame to
fling herself; now they hold their winter, long-drawn through mutual
caresses, regardless of their realms and enthralled by passionate
dishonour. This the pestilent goddess [195-227]spreads abroad in the
mouths of men, and bends her course right on to King Iarbas, and with
her words fires his spirit and swells his wrath.

He, the seed of Ammon by a ravished Garamantian Nymph, had built to Jove
in his wide realms an hundred great temples, an hundred altars, and
consecrated the wakeful fire that keeps watch by night before the gods
perpetually, where the soil is fat with blood of beasts and the courts
blossom with pied garlands. And he, distracted and on fire at the bitter
tidings, before his altars, amid the divine presences, often, it is
said, bowed in prayer to Jove with uplifted hands:

'Jupiter omnipotent, to whom from the broidered cushions of their
banqueting halls the Maurusian people now pour Lenaean offering, lookest
thou on this? or do we shudder vainly when our father hurls the
thunderbolt, and do blind fires in the clouds and idle rumblings appal
our soul? The woman who, wandering in our coasts, planted a small town
on purchased ground, to whom we gave fields by the shore and laws of
settlement, she hath spurned our alliance and taken Aeneas for lord of
her realm. And now that Paris, with his effeminate crew, his chin and
oozy hair swathed in the turban of Maeonia, takes and keeps her; since
to thy temples we bear oblation, and hallow an empty name. '

In such words he pleaded, clasping the altars; the Lord omnipotent
heard, and cast his eye on the royal city and the lovers forgetful of
their fairer fame. Then he addresses this charge to Mercury:

'Up and away, O son! call the breezes and slide down them on thy wings:
accost the Dardanian captain who now loiters in Tyrian Carthage and
casts not a look on destined cities; carry down my words through the
fleet air. Not such an one did his mother most beautiful vouch him to
[228-264]us, nor for this twice rescue him from Grecian arms; but he
was to rule an Italy teeming with empire and loud with war, to transmit
the line of Teucer's royal blood, and lay all the world beneath his law.
If such glories kindle him in nowise, and he take no trouble for his own
honour, does a father grudge his Ascanius the towers of Rome? with what
device or in what hope loiters he among a hostile race, and casts not a
glance on his Ausonian children and the fields of Lavinium? Let him set
sail: this is the sum: thereof be thou our messenger. '

He ended: his son made ready to obey his high command. And first he
laces to his feet the shoes of gold that bear him high winging over seas
or land as fleet as the gale; then takes the rod wherewith he calls wan
souls forth of Orcus, or sends them again to the sad depth of hell,
gives sleep and takes it away and unseals dead eyes; in whose strength
he courses the winds and swims across the tossing clouds. And now in
flight he descries the peak and steep sides of toiling Atlas, whose
crest sustains the sky; Atlas, whose pine-clad head is girt alway with
black clouds and beaten by wind and rain; snow is shed over his
shoulders for covering; rivers tumble over his aged chin; and his rough
beard is stiff with ice. Here the Cyllenian, poised evenly on his wings,
made a first stay; hence he shot himself sheer to the water. Like a bird
that flies low, skirting the sea about the craggy shores of its fishery,
even thus the brood of Cyllene left his mother's father, and flew,
cutting the winds between sky and land, along the sandy Libyan shore. So
soon as his winged feet reached the settlement, he espies Aeneas
founding towers and ordering new dwellings; his sword twinkled with
yellow jasper, and a cloak hung from his shoulders ablaze with Tyrian
sea-purple, a gift that Dido had made costly and shot the warp with thin
gold. Straightway [265-299]he breaks in: 'Layest thou now the
foundations of tall Carthage, and buildest up a fair city in dalliance?
ah, forgetful of thine own kingdom and state! From bright Olympus I
descend to thee at express command of heaven's sovereign, whose deity
sways sky and earth; expressly he bids me carry this charge through the
fleet air: with what device or in what hope dost thou loiter idly on
Libyan lands? if such glories kindle thee in nowise, yet cast an eye on
growing Ascanius, on Iulus thine hope and heir, to whom the kingdom of
Italy and the Roman land are due. ' As these words left his lips the
Cyllenian, yet speaking, quitted mortal sight and vanished into thin air
away out of his eyes.

But Aeneas in truth gazed in dumb amazement, his hair thrilled up, and
the accents faltered on his tongue. He burns to flee away and leave the
pleasant land, aghast at the high warning and divine ordinance. Alas,
what shall he do? how venture to smooth the tale to the frenzied queen?
what prologue shall he find? and this way and that he rapidly throws his
mind, and turns it on all hands in swift change of thought. In his
perplexity this seemed the better counsel; he calls Mnestheus and
Sergestus, and brave Serestus, and bids them silently equip the fleet,
gather their crews on shore, and order their armament, keeping the cause
of the commotion hid; himself meanwhile, since Dido the gracious knows
not nor looks for severance to so strong a love, will essay to approach
her when she may be told most gently, and the way for it be fair. All at
once gladly do as bidden, and obey his command.

But the Queen--who may delude a lover? --foreknew his devices, and at
once caught the presaging stir. Safety's self was fear; to her likewise
had evil Rumour borne the maddening news that they equip the fleet and
prepare [300-334]for passage. Helpless at heart, she reels aflame with
rage throughout the city, even as the startled Thyiad in her frenzied
triennial orgies, when the holy vessels move forth and the cry of
Bacchus re-echoes, and Cithaeron calls her with nightlong din. Thus at
last she opens out upon Aeneas:

'And thou didst hope, traitor, to mask the crime, and slip away in
silence from my land? Our love holds thee not, nor the hand thou once
gavest, nor the bitter death that is left for Dido's portion? Nay, under
the wintry star thou labourest on thy fleet, and hastenest to launch
into the deep amid northern gales; ah, cruel! Why, were thy quest not of
alien fields and unknown dwellings, did thine ancient Troy remain,
should Troy be sought in voyages over tossing seas? Fliest thou from me?
me who by these tears and thine own hand beseech thee, since naught
else, alas! have I kept mine own--by our union and the marriage rites
preparing; if I have done thee any grace, or aught of mine hath once
been sweet in thy sight,--pity our sinking house, and if there yet be
room for prayers, put off this purpose of thine. For thy sake Libyan
tribes and Nomad kings are hostile; my Tyrians are estranged; for thy
sake, thine, is mine honour perished, and the former fame, my one title
to the skies. How leavest thou me to die, O my guest? since to this the
name of husband is dwindled down. For what do I wait? till Pygmalion
overthrow his sister's city, or Gaetulian Iarbas lead me to captivity?
At least if before thy flight a child of thine had been clasped in my
arms,--if a tiny Aeneas were playing in my hall, whose face might yet
image thine,--I would not think myself ensnared and deserted utterly. '

She ended; he by counsel of Jove held his gaze unstirred, and kept his
distress hard down in his heart. At last he briefly answers:

'Never, O Queen, will I deny that thy goodness hath [335-368]gone high
as thy words can swell the reckoning; nor will my memory of Elissa be
ungracious while I remember myself, and breath sways this body. Little
will I say in this. I never hoped to slip away in stealthy flight; fancy
not that; nor did I ever hold out the marriage torch or enter thus into
alliance. Did fate allow me to guide my life by mine own government, and
calm my sorrows as I would, my first duty were to the Trojan city and
the dear remnant of my kindred; the high house of Priam should abide,
and my hand had set up Troy towers anew for a conquered people. But now
for broad Italy hath Apollo of Grynos bidden me steer, for Italy the
oracles of Lycia. Here is my desire; this is my native country. If thy
Phoenician eyes are stayed on Carthage towers and thy Libyan city, what
wrong is it, I pray, that we Trojans find our rest on Ausonian land? We
too may seek a foreign realm unforbidden. In my sleep, often as the dank
shades of night veil the earth, often as the stars lift their fires, the
troubled phantom of my father Anchises comes in warning and dread; my
boy Ascanius, how I wrong one so dear in cheating him of an Hesperian
kingdom and destined fields. Now even the gods' interpreter, sent
straight from Jove--I call both to witness--hath borne down his commands
through the fleet air. Myself in broad daylight I saw the deity passing
within the walls, and these ears drank his utterance. Cease to madden me
and thyself alike with plaints. Not of my will do I follow Italy. . . . '

Long ere he ended she gazes on him askance, turning her eyes from side
to side and perusing him with silent glances; then thus wrathfully
speaks:

'No goddess was thy mother, nor Dardanus founder of thy line, traitor!
but rough Caucasus bore thee on his iron crags, and Hyrcanian tigresses
gave thee suck. For why do I conceal it? For what further outrage do I
wait? [369-400]Hath our weeping cost him a sigh, or a lowered glance?
Hath he broken into tears, or had pity on his lover? Where, where shall
I begin? Now neither doth Queen Juno nor our Saturnian lord regard us
with righteous eyes. Nowhere is trust safe. Cast ashore and destitute I
welcomed him, and madly gave him place and portion in my kingdom; I
found him his lost fleet and drew his crews from death. Alas, the fire
of madness speeds me on. Now prophetic Apollo, now oracles of Lycia, now
the very gods' interpreter sent straight from Jove through the air
carries these rude commands! Truly that is work for the gods, that a
care to vex their peace! I detain thee not, nor gainsay thy words: go,
follow thine Italy down the wind; seek thy realm overseas. Yet midway my
hope is, if righteous gods can do aught at all, thou wilt drain the cup
of vengeance on the rocks, and re-echo calls on Dido's name. In murky
fires I will follow far away, and when chill death hath severed body
from soul, my ghost will haunt thee in every region. Wretch, thou shalt
repay! I will hear; and the rumour of it shall reach me deep in the
under world. '

Even on these words she breaks off her speech unfinished, and, sick at
heart, escapes out of the air and sweeps round and away out of sight,
leaving him in fear and much hesitance, and with much on his mind to
say. Her women catch her in their arms, and carry her swooning to her
marble chamber and lay her on her bed.

But good Aeneas, though he would fain soothe and comfort her grief, and
talk away her distress, with many a sigh, and melted in soul by his
great love, yet fulfils the divine commands and returns to his fleet.
Then indeed the Teucrians set to work, and haul down their tall ships
all along the shore. The hulls are oiled and afloat; they carry from the
woodland green boughs for oars and massy logs unhewn, in hot haste to
go. . . . One might descry them shifting [401-433]their quarters and
pouring out of all the town: even as ants, mindful of winter, plunder a
great heap of wheat and store it in their house; a black column advances
on the plain as they carry home their spoil on a narrow track through
the grass. Some shove and strain with their shoulders at big grains,
some marshal the ranks and chastise delay; all the path is aswarm with
work. What then were thy thoughts, O Dido, as thou sawest it? What sighs
didst thou utter, viewing from the fortress roof the broad beach aswarm,
and seeing before thine eyes the whole sea stirred with their noisy din?
Injurious Love, to what dost thou not compel mortal hearts! Again, she
must needs break into tears, again essay entreaty, and bow her spirit
down to love, not to leave aught untried and go to death in vain.

'Anna, thou seest the bustle that fills the shore. They have gathered
round from every quarter; already their canvas woos the breezes, and the
merry sailors have garlanded the sterns. This great pain, my sister, I
shall have strength to bear, as I have had strength to foresee. Yet this
one thing, Anna, for love and pity's sake--for of thee alone was the
traitor fain, to thee even his secret thoughts were confided, alone thou
knewest his moods and tender fits--go, my sister, and humbly accost the
haughty stranger: I did not take the Grecian oath in Aulis to root out
the race of Troy; I sent no fleet against her fortresses; neither have I
disentombed his father Anchises' ashes and ghost, that he should refuse
my words entrance to his stubborn ears. Whither does he run? let him
grant this grace--alas, the last! --to his lover, and await fair winds
and an easy passage. No more do I pray for the old delusive marriage,
nor that he give up fair Latium and abandon a kingdom. A breathing-space
I ask, to give my madness rest and room, till my very [434-469]fortune
teach my grief submission. This last favour I implore: sister, be
pitiful; grant this to me, and I will restore it in full measure when I
die. '

So she pleaded, and so her sister carries and recarries the piteous tale
of weeping. But by no weeping is he stirred, inflexible to all the words
he hears. Fate withstands, and lays divine bars on unmoved mortal ears.
Even as when the eddying blasts of northern Alpine winds are emulous to
uproot the secular strength of a mighty oak, it wails on, and the trunk
quivers and the high foliage strews the ground; the tree clings fast on
the rocks, and high as her top soars into heaven, so deep strike her
roots to hell; even thus is the hero buffeted with changeful perpetual
accents, and distress thrills his mighty breast, while his purpose stays
unstirred, and tears fall in vain.

Then indeed, hapless and dismayed by doom, Dido prays for death, and is
weary of gazing on the arch of heaven. The more to make her fulfil her
purpose and quit the light, she saw, when she laid her gifts on the
altars alight with incense, awful to tell, the holy streams blacken, and
the wine turn as it poured into ghastly blood. Of this sight she spoke
to none--no, not to her sister. Likewise there was within the house a
marble temple of her ancient lord, kept of her in marvellous honour, and
fastened with snowy fleeces and festal boughs. Forth of it she seemed to
hear her husband's voice crying and calling when night was dim upon
earth, and alone on the house-tops the screech-owl often made moan with
funeral note and long-drawn sobbing cry. Therewithal many a warning of
wizards of old terrifies her with appalling presage. In her sleep fierce
Aeneas drives her wildly, and ever she seems being left by herself
alone, ever going uncompanioned on a weary way, and seeking her Tyrians
in a solitary land: even as frantic Pentheus sees the [470-503]arrayed
Furies and a double sun, and Thebes shows herself twofold to his eyes:
or Agamemnonian Orestes, renowned in tragedy, when his mother pursues
him armed with torches and dark serpents, and the Fatal Sisters crouch
avenging in the doorway.

So when, overcome by her pangs, she caught the madness and resolved to
die, she works out secretly the time and fashion, and accosts her
sorrowing sister with mien hiding her design and hope calm on her brow.

'I have found a way, mine own--wish me joy, sisterlike--to restore him
to me or release me of my love for him. Hard by the ocean limit and the
set of sun is the extreme Aethiopian land, where ancient Atlas turns on
his shoulders the starred burning axletree of heaven. Out of it hath
been shown to me a priestess of Massylian race, warder of the temple of
the Hesperides, even she who gave the dragon his food, and kept the holy
boughs on the tree, sprinkling clammy honey and slumberous poppy-seed.
She professes with her spells to relax the purposes of whom she will,
but on others to bring passion and pain; to stay the river-waters and
turn the stars backward: she calls up ghosts by night; thou shalt see
earth moaning under foot and mountain-ashes descending from the hills. I
take heaven, sweet, to witness, and thee, mine own darling sister, I do
not willingly arm myself with the arts of magic. Do thou secretly raise
a pyre in the inner court, and let them lay on it the arms that the
accursed one left hanging in our chamber, and all the dress he wore, and
the bridal bed where I fell. It is good to wipe out all the wretch's
traces, and the priestess orders thus. ' So speaks she, and is silent,
while pallor overruns her face. Yet Anna deems not her sister veils
death behind these strange rites, and grasps not her wild purpose, nor
fears aught deeper than at Sychaeus' death. So she makes ready as
bidden. . . .

[504-538]But the Queen, the pyre being built up of piled faggots and
sawn ilex in the inmost of her dwelling, hangs the room with chaplets
and garlands it with funeral boughs: on the pillow she lays the dress he
wore, the sword he left, and an image of him, knowing what was to come.