be empress of the world (262–351). Mercury is sent to secure from Dido, Queen of Libya, a welcome for Æneas. Æneas and Achates, while reconnoitring, meet Venus in the forest disguised as a nymph. She tells them Dido's story. Æneas in reply bewails his own troubles, but is interrupted with promises of success. Let him but persist, all will be well (352–478). Venus changes before their eyes from nymph to goddess, and vanishes before Æneas can utter his reproaches. Hidden in a magic mist, the pair approach Carthage, which they find still building. They reach the citadel unobserved, and are encouraged on seeing pictures of scenes from the Trojan war (479–576). Dido appears and takes her state. To her enter, as suppliants, Trojan leaders, whom Æneas had imagined dead. Ilioneus, their spokesman, tells the story of the storm and asks help. "If only Æneas were here!" (577–661). Dido speaks him fair and echoes his words, "If Æneas were here!" The mist scatters. Æneas appears; thanks Dido, and greets Ilioneus (662–723). Dido welcomes Æneas to Carthage and prepares a festival in his honour. Æneas sends Achates to summon his son and bring gifts for Dido (724–774). Cupid, persuaded by Venus to personate Ascanius and inspire Dido with love for Æneas, comes with the gifts to Dido's palace, while Ascanius is carried away to Idalia. The night is passed in feasting. After the feast Iopas sings the wonders of the firmament, and Dido, bewitched by Cupid, begs Æneas to tell the whole story of his adventures (775–891).
| I . | Of arms I sing, and of the man, whom Fate First drove from Troy to the Lavinian shore. Full many an evil, through the mindful hate Of cruel Juno, from the gods he bore, Much tost on earth and ocean, yea, and more In war enduring, ere he built a home, And his loved household-deities brought o'er To Latium, whence the Latin people come, | 1 | |
| Whence rose the Alban sires, and walls of lofty Rome. | |||
| II . | O Muse, assist me and inspire my song, The various causes and the crimes relate, For what affronted majesty, what wrong To injured Godhead, what offence so great Heaven's Queen resenting, with remorseless hate, Could one renowned for piety compel To brave such troubles, and endure the weight Of toils so many and so huge. O tell | 10 | |
| How can in heavenly minds such fierce resentment dwell? | |||
| III . | There stood a city, fronting far away The mouths of Tiber and Italia's shore, A Tyrian settlement of olden day, Rich in all wealth, and trained to war's rough lore, Carthage the name, by Juno loved before All places, even Samos. Here were shown Her arms, and here her chariot; evermore E'en then this land she cherished as her own, | 19 | |
| And here, should Fate permit, had planned a world-wide throne. | |||
| IV . | But she had heard, how men of Trojan seed Those Tyrian towers should level, how again From these in time a nation should proceed, Wide-ruling, tyrannous in war, the bane (So Fate was working) of the Libyan reign. This feared she, mindful of the war beside Waged for her Argives on the Trojan plain; Nor even yet had from her memory died | 28 | |
| The causes of her wrath, the pangs of wounded pride— | |||
| V . | The choice of Paris, and her charms disdained, The hateful race, the lawless honours ta'en By ravished Ganymede—these wrongs remained. So fired with rage, the Trojans' scanty train By fierce Achilles and the Greeks unslain She barred from Latium, and in evil strait For many a year, on many a distant main They wandered, homeless outcasts, tost by Fate; | 37 | |
| So huge, so hard the task to found the Roman state. | |||
| VI . | Scarce out of sight of Sicily, they set Their sails to sea, and merrily ploughed the main, With brazen beaks, when Juno, harbouring yet Within her breast the ever-rankling pain, Mused thus: "Must I then from the work refrain, Nor keep this Trojan from the Latin throne, Baffled, forsooth, because the Fates constrain? Could Pallas burn the Grecian fleet, and drown | 46 | |
| Their crews, for one man's crime, Oileus' frenzied son? | |||
| VII . | "She, hurling Jove's winged lightning, stirred the deep And strewed the ships. Him, from his riven breast The flames outgasping, with a whirlwind's sweep She caught and fixed upon a rock's sharp crest. But I, who walk the Queen of Heaven confessed, Jove's sister-spouse, shall I forevermore With one poor tribe keep warring without rest? Who then henceforth shall Juno's power adore? | 55 | |
| Who then her fanes frequent, her deity implore?" | |||
| VIII . | Such thoughts revolving in her fiery mind, Straightway the Goddess to Æolia passed, The storm-clouds' birthplace, big with blustering wind. Here Æolus within a dungeon vast The sounding tempest and the struggling blast Bends to his sway and bridles them with chains. They, in the rock reverberant held fast, Moan at the doors. Here, throned aloft, he reigns; | 64 | |
| His sceptre calms their rage, their violence restrains: | |||
| IX . | Else earth and sea and all the firmament The winds together through the void would sweep. But, fearing this, the Sire omnipotent Hath buried them in caverns dark and deep, And o'er them piled huge mountains in a heap, And set withal a monarch, there to reign, By compact taught at his command to keep Strict watch, and tighten or relax the rein. | 73 | |
| Him now Saturnia sought, and thus in lowly strain: |
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