Thus Venus spoke, and Venus’ son replied:—“No sight
or hearing have we had of any sister of thine, O thou—what
name shall I give thee? maiden; for thy face is not 25
of earth, nor the tone of thy voice human: some goddess[83]
surely thou art. Phœbus’[84] sister belike, or one of the
blood of the nymphs? be gracious, whoe’er thou art, and
relieve our hardship, and tell us under what sky now,
on what realms of earth we are thrown. Utter strangers 30
to the men and the place, we are wandering, as thou seest,
by the driving of the wind and of the mighty waters.
Do this, and many a victim shall fall to thee at the altar
by this hand of mine.”
Then Venus:—“Nay, I can lay claim to no such honours. 35
Tyrian maidens, like me, are wont to carry the
quiver, and tie the purple buskin high up the calf. This
that you now see is the Punic realm, the nation Tyrian
and the town Agenor’s[85]; but on the frontiers are the
Libyans, a race ill to handle in war. The queen is Dido,
who left her home in Tyre to escape from her brother.
Lengthy is her tale of wrong, lengthy the windings of its
course; but I will pass rapidly from point to point. Her 5
husband was Sychæus, wealthiest of Phœnician landowners,
and loved by his poor wife with fervid passion;
on him her father had bestowed her in her maiden bloom,
linking them together by the omens of a first bridal. But
the crown of Tyre was on the head of her brother, Pygmalion, 10
in crime monstrous beyond the rest of men.
They were two, and fury came between them. Impious
that he was, at the very altar of the palace, the love of
gold blinding his eyes, he surprises Sychæus with his
stealthy steel, and lays him low, without a thought for 15
his sister’s passion; he kept the deed long concealed,
and with many a base coinage sustained the mockery
of false hope[86] in her pining love-lorn heart. But lo! in
her sleep there came to her no less than the semblance of
her unburied spouse, lifting up a face of strange unearthly 20
pallor; the ruthless altar and his breast gored with the
steel, he laid bare the one and the other, and unveiled
from first to last the dark domestic crime. Then he urges
her to speed her flight, and quit her home for ever, and in
aid of her journey unseals a hoard of treasure long hid in 25
the earth, a mass of silver and gold which none else knew.
Dido’s soul was stirred; she began to make ready her
flight, and friends to share it. There they meet, all whose
hate of the tyrant was fell or whose fear was bitter; ships,
that chanced to lie ready in the harbour, they seize, and 30
freight with gold. Away it floats over the deep, the
greedy Pygmalion’s wealth; and who heads the enterprise?
a woman[87]! So they came to the spot where you
now see yonder those lofty walls, and the rising citadel
of Carthage the new; there they bought ground, which 35
got from the transaction the name of Byrsa,[88] as much as
they could compass round with a bull’s hide. But who
are you after all? What coast are you come from, or
whither are you holding on your journey?” That question
he answers thus, with a heavy sigh, and a voice
fetched from the bottom of his heart:—
“Fair goddess! should I begin from the first and proceed
in order, and hadst thou leisure to listen to the chronicle 5
of our sufferings, eve would first close the Olympian gates
and lay the day to sleep. For us, bound from ancient
Troy, if the name of Troy has ever chanced to pass through
a Tyrian ear, wanderers over divers seas already, we have
been driven by a storm’s wild will upon your Libyan 10
coasts. I am Æneas, styled the good, who am bearing
with me in my fleet the gods of Troy rescued from the
foe; a name blazed by rumour above the stars. I am in
quest of Italy, looking there for an ancestral home, and a
pedigree drawn from high Jove himself. With twice ten 15
ships I climbed the Phrygian main, with a goddess mother
guiding me on my way, and a chart of oracles to follow.
Scarce seven remain to me now, shattered by wind and
wave. Here am I, a stranger, nay, a beggar, wandering
over your Libyan deserts, driven from Europe and Asia 20
alike.” Venus could bear the complaint no longer, so
she thus struck into the middle of his sorrows:—
“Whoever you are, it is not, I trow, under the frown of
heavenly powers that you draw the breath of life,[89] thus to
have arrived at our Tyrian town. Only go on, and make 25
your way straight hence to the queen’s palace. For I
give you news that your comrades are returned and your
fleet brought back, wafted into shelter by shifting gales,
unless my learning of augury was vain, and the parents
who taught me cheats. Look at these twelve swans 30
exultant in victorious column, which the bird of Jove,[90]
swooping from the height of ether, was just now driving
in confusion over the wide unsheltered sky; see now how
their line stretches, some alighting on the ground, others
just looking down on those alighted. As they, thus rallied, 35
ply their whirring wings[91] in sport, spreading their train
round the sky, and uttering songs of triumph, even so
your vessels and your gallant crews are either safe in the
port, or entering the haven with sails full spread. Only
go on, and where the way leads you direct your steps.”
She said, and as she turned away, flashed on their sight
her neck’s roseate hue; her ambrosial locks breathed from
her head a heavenly fragrance; her robe streamed down 5
to her very feet; and in her walk[92] was revealed the true
goddess. Soon as he knew his mother, he pursued her
flying steps with words like these:—“Why wilt thou be
cruel like the rest, mocking thy son these many times
with feigned semblances? Why is it not mine to grasp 10
thy hand in my hand, and hear and return the true language
of the heart?” Such are his upbraidings, while he
yet bends his way to the town. But Venus fenced them
round with a dim cloud as they moved, and wrapped them
as a goddess only can in a spreading mantle of mist, that 15
none might be able to see them, none to touch them, or
put hindrances in their path, or ask the reason of their coming.
She takes her way aloft to Paphos,[93] glad to revisit
the abode she loves, where she has a temple and a hundred
altars, smoking with Sabæan[94] incense, and fragrant with 20
garlands ever new.
They, meanwhile, have pushed on their way, where the
path guides them, and already they are climbing the hill
which hangs heavily over the city, and looks from above
on the towers that rise to meet it. Æneas marvels at the 25
mass of building, once a mere village of huts; marvels at
the gates, and the civic din, and the paved ways. The
Tyrians are alive and on fire—intent, some on carrying
the walls aloft and upheaving the citadel, and rolling
stones from underneath by force of hand; some on making 30
choice of a site for a dwelling, and enclosing it with a
trench. They are ordaining the law and its guardians, and
the senate’s sacred majesty. Here are some digging out
havens; there are others laying deep the foundation of a
theatre, and hewing from the rocks enormous columns, 35
the lofty ornaments of a stage that is to be. Such are the
toils that keep the commonwealth of bees[95] at work
in the sun among the flowery meads when summer is
new, what time they lead out the nation’s hope, the young
now grown, or mass together honey, clear and flowing, and
strain the cells to bursting with its nectarous sweets, or
relieve those who are coming in of their burdens, or collect
a troop and expel from their stalls the drones, that lazy, 5
thriftless herd. The work is all afire, and a scent of thyme
breathes from the fragrant honey. “O happy they, whose
city is rising already!” cries Æneas, as he looks upward
to roof and dome. In he goes, close fenced by his cloud,
miraculous to tell, threads his way through the midst, 10
and mingles with the citizens, unperceived of all.
A grove there was in the heart of the city, most plenteous
of shade—the spot where first, fresh from the buffeting of
wave and wind, the Punic race dug up the token which
queenly Juno had bidden them expect, the head of a fiery 15
steed—for even thus, said she, the nation should be renowned
in war and rich in sustenance for a life of centuries.
Here Dido, Sidon’s[96] daughter, was building a vast temple
to Juno, rich in offerings and in the goddess’s especial
presence; of brass was the threshold with its rising steps, 20
clamped with brass the door-posts, the hinge creaked on
a door of brass. In this grove it was that first a new object
appeared, as before, to soothe away fear: here it was that
Æneas first dared to hope that all was safe, and to place a
better trust in his shattered fortunes. For while his eye 25
ranges over each part under the temple’s massy roof, as
he waits there for the queen—while he is marvelling at
the city’s prosperous star, the various artist-hands vying
with each other, their tasks and the toil they cost, he
beholds, scene after scene, the battles of Ilion, and the 30
war that Fame had already blazed the whole world over—Atreus’[o]
sons, and Priam, and the enemy of both,
Achilles. He stopped short, and breaking into tears,
“What place is there left?” he cries, “Achates, what
clime on earth that is not full of our sad story? See there 35
Priam. Here, too, worth finds its due reward; here, too,
there are tears[97] for human fortune, and hearts that are
touched by mortality. Be free from fear: this renown
of ours will bring you some measure of safety.” So speaking,
he feeds his soul on the empty portraiture, with many
a sigh, and lets copious rivers run down his cheeks. For
he still saw how, as they battled round Pergamus,[98] here
the Greeks were flying, the Trojan youth in hot pursuit; 5
here the Phrygians, at their heels in his car Achilles, with
that dreadful crest. Not far from this he recognizes with
tears the snowy canvas of Rhesus’ tent, which, all surprised
in its first sleep, Tydeus’ son was devastating with wide
carnage, himself bathed in blood—see! he drives off 10
the fiery steeds to his own camp, ere they have had time
to taste the pastures of Troy or drink of Xanthus.[99] There
in another part is Troilus[100] in flight, his arms fallen from
him—unhappy boy, confronted with Achilles in unequal
combat—hurried away by his horses, and hanging half 15
out of the empty car, with his head thrown back, but the
reins still in his hand; his neck and his hair are being
trailed along the ground, and his inverted spear is drawing
lines in the dust. Meanwhile to the temple of Pallas,[101]
not their friend, were moving the Trojan dames with locks 20
dishevelled, carrying the sacred robe, in suppliant guise
of mourning, their breasts bruised with their hands—the
goddess was keeping her eyes riveted on the ground,
with her face turned away. Thrice had Achilles dragged
Hector round the walls of Ilion, and was now selling for 25
gold his body, thus robbed of breath. Then, indeed,
heavy was the groan that he gave from the bottom of
his heart, when he saw the spoils, the car, the very body
of his friend, and Priam, stretching out those helpless
hands. Himself, too, he recognizes in the forefront of 30
the Achæan ranks, and the squadrons of the East, and the
arms of the swarthy Memnon.[102] There, leading the columns
of her Amazons, with their moony shields, is Penthesilea[103]
in her martial frenzy, blazing out, the centre of thousands,
as she loops up her protruded breast with a girdle of gold, 35
the warrior queen, and nerves herself to the shock of combat,
a maiden against men.
While these things are meeting the wondering eyes of
Æneas the Dardan—while he is standing bewildered,
and continues riveted in one set gaze—the queen has
moved towards the temple, Dido, of loveliest presence,
with a vast train of youths thronging round her. Like
as on Eurotas’ banks, or along the ridges of Cynthus, 5
Diana[104] is footing the dance, while, attending her, a thousand
mountain nymphs are massing themselves on either
side; she, her quiver on her shoulder, as she steps, towers
over the whole goddess sisterhood, while Latona’s[105] bosom
thrills silently with delight; such was Dido—such she 10
bore herself triumphant through the midst, to speed the
work which had empire for its prospect. Then, at the doors
of the goddess, under the midmost vaulting of the temple,
with a fence of arms round her, supported high on a throne,
she took her seat. There she was giving laws and judgments 15
to her citizens, and equalizing the burden of their
tasks by fair partition, or draughting it by lot, when suddenly
Æneas sees coming among the great crowd Antheus
and Sergestus, and brave Cloanthus, and other of the
Teucrians, whom the black storm had scattered over the 20
deep, and carried far away to other coasts. Astounded
was he, overwhelmed, too, was Achates, all for joy and
fear: eagerly were they burning to join hands with theirs,
but the unexplained mystery confounds their minds.
They carry on the concealment, and look out from the 25
hollow cloud that wraps them, to learn what fortune their
mates have had, on what shore they are leaving their fleet,
what is their errand here—for they were on their way,
a deputation from all the crews, suing for grace, and were
making for the temple with loud cries. 30
After they had gained an entrance, and had obtained
leave to speak in the presence, Ilioneus, the eldest, thus
began, calm of soul:—
“Gracious queen, to whom Jupiter has given to found a
new city, and to restrain by force of law the pride of savage 35
nations, we, hapless Trojans, driven by the winds over
every sea, make our prayer to you—keep off from our
ships the horrors of fire, have pity on a pious race, and
vouchsafe a nearer view to our affairs. We are not come
to carry the havoc of the sword into the homes of Libya—to
snatch booty and hurry it to the shore; such violence
is not in our nature; such insolence were not for
the vanquished. There is a place—the Greeks call it 5
Hesperia—a land old in story, strong in arms and in
the fruitfulness of its soil; the Œnotrians were its settlers;
now report says that later generations have called the
nation Italian, from the name of their leader. Thither
were we voyaging, when, rising with a sudden swell, Orion,[106] 10
lord of the storm, carried us into hidden shoals, and far
away by the stress of reckless gales over the water, the
surge mastering us, and over pathless rocks scattered us
here and there: a small remnant, we drifted hither on to
your shores. What race of men have we here? What 15
country is so barbarous as to sanction a native usage like
this? Even the hospitality of the sand is forbidden us—they
draw the sword, and will not let us set foot on the
land’s edge. If you defy the race of men, and the weapons
that mortals wield, yet look to have to do with gods, who 20
watch over the right and the wrong. Æneas was our king,
than whom never man breathed more just, more eminent
in piety, or in war and martial prowess. If the Fates are
keeping our hero alive—if he is feeding on this upper
air, and not yet lying down in death’s cruel shade—all 25
our fears are over, nor need you be sorry to have made
the first advance in the contest of kindly courtesy. The
realm of Sicily, too, has cities for us, and store of arms,
and a hero-king of Trojan blood, Acestes.[o] Give us leave
but to lay up on shore our storm-beaten fleet, to fashion 30
timber in your forests, and strip boughs for our oars, that,
if we are allowed to sail for Italy, our comrades and king
restored to us, we may make our joyful way to Italy and
to Latium; or, if our safety is swallowed up, and thou,
best father of the Teucrians, art the prey of the Libyan 35
deep, and a nation’s hope lives no longer in Iulus, then, at
least, we may make for Sicania’s straits, and the houses
standing to welcome us, whence we came hither, and may
find a king in Acestes.” Such was the speech of Ilioneus;
an accordant clamour burst at once from all the sons of
Dardanus.
Then briefly Dido, with downcast look, makes reply:—“Teucrians!
unburden your hearts of fear, lay your anxieties 5
aside. It is the stress of danger and the infancy of
my kingdom that make me put this policy in motion and
protect my frontiers with a guard all about. The men
of Æneas and the city of Troy—who can be ignorant of
them?—the deeds and the doers, and all the blaze of that 10
mighty war? Not so blunt are the wits we Punic folk
carry with us, not so wholly does the sun turn his back
on our Tyrian town when he harnesses his steeds.
Whether you make your choice of Hesperia the great, and
the old realm of Saturn, or of the borders of Eryx and their 15
king Acestes, I will send you on your way with an escort
to protect you, and will supply you with stores. Or would
you like to settle along with me in my kingdom here?
Look at the city I am building, it is yours, lay up your
ships, Trojan and Tyrian shall be dealt with by me without 20
distinction. Would to heaven your king were here too,
driven by the gale that drove you hither—Æneas himself!
For myself, I will send trusty messengers along the coast,
with orders to traverse the furthest parts of Libya, in case
he should be shipwrecked and wandering anywhere in 25
forest or town.”
Excited by her words, brave Achates and father Æneas,
too, were burning long ere this to break out of their cloud.
Achates first accosts Æneas:—“Goddess-born, what purpose
now is foremost in your mind? All you see is safe, 30
our fleet and our mates are restored to us. One is missing,
whom our own eyes saw in the midst of the surge swallowed
up, all the rest is even as your mother told us.”
Scarce had he spoken when the cloud that enveloped
them suddenly parts asunder and clears into the open sky. 35
Out stood Æneas, and shone[107] again in the bright sunshine,
his face and his bust the image of a god, for his great
mother had shed graceful tresses over her son’s brow,
and the glowing flush of youth, and had breathed the
breath of beauty and gladness into his eyes, loveliness such
as the artist’s touch imparts to ivory, or when silver or
Parian marble is enchased[108] with yellow gold. Then he
addresses the queen, and speaks suddenly to the astonishment 5
of all:—“Here am I whom you are seeking, before
you,—Æneas, the Trojan, snatched from the jaws of the
Libyan wave. O heart that alone of all has found pity for
Troy’s cruel agonies—that makes us, poor remnants of
Danaan fury, utterly spent by all the chances of land and 10
sea, destitute of all, partners of its city, of its very palace!
To pay such a debt of gratitude, Dido, is more than we can
do—more than can be done by all the survivors of the
Dardan nation, now scattered the wide world over. May
the gods—if there are powers that regard the pious, if 15
justice and conscious rectitude count for aught anywhere
on earth—may they give you the reward you merit!
What age had the happiness to bring you forth? what
godlike parents gave such nobleness to the world? While
the rivers run into the sea, while the shadows sweep along 20
the mountain-sides, while the stars draw life from the
sky, your glory and your name and your praise shall still
endure, whatever the land whose call I must obey.” So
saying, he stretches out his right hand to his friend Ilioneus,
his left to Serestus, and so on to others, gallant Gyas 25
and gallant Cloanthus.
Astounded was Dido, Sidon’s daughter, first at the hero’s
presence, then at his enormous sufferings, and she bespoke
him thus:—“What chance is it, goddess-born, that is
hunting you through such a wilderness of perils? what 30
violence throws you on our savage coasts? Are you, indeed,
the famed Æneas, whom to Anchises the Dardan,
Venus, queen of light and love, bore by the stream of
Simois? Aye, I remember Teucer coming to Sidon, driven
from the borders of his fatherland, hoping to gain a new 35
kingdom by the aid of Belus. Belus, my sire, was then
laying waste the rich fields of Cyprus, and ruling the isle
with a conqueror’s sway. Ever since that time I knew
the fate of the Trojan city, and your name, and the
Pelasgian princes. Foe as he was, he would always extol
the Teucrians with signal praise, and profess that
he himself came of the ancient Teucrian stock. Come
then, brave men, and make our dwellings your home. 5
I, too, have had a fortune like yours, which, after the
buffeting of countless sufferings, has been pleased that
I should find rest in this land at last. Myself no stranger
to sorrow, I am learning[109] to succour the unhappy.”
With these words, at the same moment she ushers 10
Æneas into her queenly palace, and orders a solemn
sacrifice at the temples of the gods. Meantime, as if
this were nought, she sends to his comrades at the shore
twenty bulls, a hundred huge swine with backs all bristling,
a hundred fat lambs with their mothers, and the 15
wine-god’s jovial bounty.
But the palace within is laid out with all the splendour of
regal luxury, and in the centre of the mansion they are
making ready for the banquet; the coverlets are embroidered
and of princely purple—on the tables is massy 20
silver, and chased on gold the gallant exploits of Tyrian
ancestors, a long, long chain of story, derived through
hero after hero ever since the old nation was young.
Æneas, for his fatherly love would not leave his heart at
rest, sends on Achates with speed to the ships to tell Ascanius 25
the news and conduct him to the city. On Ascanius
all a fond parent’s anxieties are centred. Presents,
moreover, rescued from the ruins of Ilion, he bids him
bring—a pall stiff with figures of gold, and a veil with
a border of yellow acanthus,[110] adornments of Argive 30
Helen,[111] which she carried away from Mycenæ, when she
went to Troy and to her unblessed bridal, her mother
Leda’s marvellous gift; the sceptre, too, which Ilione
had once borne, the eldest of Priam’s daughters, and the
string of pearls for the neck, and the double coronal of 35
jewels and gold. With this to despatch, Achates was
bending his way to the ships.
But the lady of Cythera is casting new wiles, new devices
in her breast, that Cupid,[112] form and feature changed, may
arrive in the room of the charmer Ascanius, and by the
presents he brings influence the queen to madness, and turn
the very marrow of her bones to fire. She fears the two-faced
generation, the double-tongued sons of Tyre; Juno’s 5
hatred scorches her like a flame, and as night draws on the
care comes back to her. So then with these words she
addresses her winged Love:—“My son, who art alone my
strength and my mighty power, my son, who laughest to
scorn our great father’s Typhœan[113] thunderbolts, to thee 10
I fly for aid, and make suppliant prayer of thy majesty.
How thy brother Æneas is tossed on the ocean the whole
world over by Juno’s implacable rancour I need not tell
thee—nay, thou hast often mingled thy grief with mine.
He is now the guest of Dido, the Phœnician woman, and 15
the spell of a courteous tongue is laid on him, and I fear
what may be the end of taking shelter under Juno’s
wing; she will never be idle at a time on which so much
hangs. Thus then I am planning to be first in the field,
surprising the queen by stratagem, and encompassing 20
her with fire, that no power may be able to work a change
in her, but that a mighty passion for Æneas may keep
her mine. For the way in which thou mayest bring this
about, listen to what I have been thinking. The young
heir of royalty, at his loved father’s summons, is making 25
ready to go to this Sidonian city—my soul’s darling
that he is—the bearer of presents that have survived
the sea and the flames of Troy. Him I will lull in deep
sleep and hide him in my hallowed dwelling high on
Cythera or Idalia, that by no chance he may know or mar 30
our plot. Do thou then for a single night, no more, artfully
counterfeit his form, and put on the boy’s usual looks,
thyself a boy, that when Dido, at the height of her joy,
shall take thee into her lap while the princely board is
laden and the vine-god’s liquor flowing, when she shall 35
be caressing thee and printing her fondest kisses on thy
cheek, thou mayest breathe concealed fire into her veins,
and steal upon her with poison.”[114]
At once Love complies with his fond mother’s words,
puts off his wings, and walks rejoicing in the gait of Iulus.
As for Ascanius, Venus sprinkles his form all over with the
dew of gentle slumber,[115] and carries him, as a goddess may,
lapped in her bosom, into Idalia’s lofty groves, where a 5
soft couch of amaracus enfolds him with its flowers, and
the fragrant breath of its sweet shade. Meanwhile Cupid
was on his way, all obedience, bearing the royal presents to
the Tyrians, and glad to follow Achates. When he arrives,
he finds the queen already settled on the gorgeous tapestry 10
of a golden couch, and occupying the central place. Already
father Æneas, already the chivalry of Troy are flocking
in, and stretching themselves here and there on coverlets
of purple. There are servants offering them water
for their hands, and deftly producing the bread from the 15
baskets, and presenting towels with shorn nap. Within
are fifty maidens, whose charge is in course to pile up provisions
in lasting store, and light up with fire the gods of the
hearth. A hundred others there are, and male attendants
of equal number and equal age, to load the table with 20
dishes, and set on the cups. The Tyrians, too, have
assembled in crowds through the festive hall, and scatter
themselves as invited over the embroidered couches.
There is marvelling at Æneas’ presents, marvelling at
Iulus, at those glowing features, where the god shines 25
through, and those words which he feigns so well, and at
the robe and the veil with the yellow acanthus border.
Chief of all, the unhappy victim of coming ruin cannot
satisfy herself with gazing,[116] and kindles as she looks,
the Phœnician woman, charmed with the boy and the 30
presents alike. He, after he has hung long in Æneas’
arms and round his neck, gratifying the intense fondness
of the sire he feigned to be his, finds his way to the queen.
She is riveted by him—riveted, eye and heart, and ever
and anon fondles him in her lap[117]—poor Dido, unconscious 35
how great a god is sitting heavy on that wretched bosom.
But he, with his mind still bent on his Acidalian mother,
is beginning to efface the name of Sychæus letter by letter,
and endeavouring to surprise by a living passion affections
long torpid, and a heart long unused to love.