When the banquet’s first lull was come, and the board
removed, then they set up the huge bowls and wreathe the
wine. A din rings to the roof—the voice rolls through 5
those spacious halls; lamps
[118] hang from the gilded ceiling,
burning brightly, and flambeau-fires put out the night.
Then the queen called for a cup, heavy with jewels and
gold, and filled it with unmixed wine; the same which
had been used by Belus, and every king from Belus downward. 10
Then silence was commanded through the hall.
“Jupiter, for thou hast the name of lawgiver for guest and
host, grant that this day may be auspicious alike for the
Tyrians and the voyagers from Troy, and that its memory
may long live among our posterity. Be with us, Bacchus,
[119] 15the giver of jollity, and Juno, the queen of our blessings;
and you, the lords of Tyre, may your goodwill grace this
meeting.” She said, and poured on the table an offering
of the wine, and, the libation made, touched the cup
first with her lips, then handed it to Bitias, rallying his 20
slowness. Eagerly he quaffed the foaming goblet, and
drenched himself deep with its brimming gold. Then
came the other lords in order. Iopas, the long-haired
bard, takes his gilded lyre, and fills the hall with music;
he, whose teacher was the mighty Atlas.
[120]
His song
[121] is of
25the wanderings of the moon and the agonies of the sun,
whence sprung man’s race and the cattle, whence rain-water
and fire; of Arcturus and the showery Hyades,
and the twin Bears; why the winter suns make such
haste to dip in ocean, or what is the retarding cause that 30
bids the nights move slowly. Plaudits redouble from
the Tyrians, and the Trojans follow the lead. With
varied talk, too, she kept lengthening out the night, unhappy
Dido, drinking draughts of love long and deep,
as she asked much about Priam, about Hector much; 35
now what were the arms in which Aurora’s son had come
to battle; now what Diomede’s steeds were like; now how
great was Achilles. “Or rather, gentle guest,” cries she,
“tell us the story from the very first—all about the stratagems
of the Danaans, and the sad fate of your country,
and your own wanderings—for this is now the seventh
summer that is wafting you a wanderer still over every
land and wave.”