The Aeneid | Page 7

known
For wealth, and brother to the Punic throne,
Possess'd fair
Dido's bed; and either heart
At once was wounded with an equal dart.

Her father gave her, yet a spotless maid;
Pygmalion then the
Tyrian scepter sway'd:
One who condemn'd divine and human laws.

Then strife ensued, and cursed gold the cause.
The monarch,
blinded with desire of wealth,
With steel invades his brother's life by
stealth;
Before the sacred altar made him bleed,
And long from her
conceal'd the cruel deed.
Some tale, some new pretense, he daily
coin'd,
To soothe his sister, and delude her mind.
At length, in dead
of night, the ghost appears
Of her unhappy lord: the specter stares,

And, with erected eyes, his bloody bosom bares.
The cruel altars and
his fate he tells,
And the dire secret of his house reveals,
Then
warns the widow, with her household gods,
To seek a refuge in
remote abodes.
Last, to support her in so long a way,
He shows her
where his hidden treasure lay.
Admonish'd thus, and seiz'd with
mortal fright,
The queen provides companions of her flight:
They
meet, and all combine to leave the state,
Who hate the tyrant, or who
fear his hate.
They seize a fleet, which ready rigg'd they find;
Nor is
Pygmalion's treasure left behind.
The vessels, heavy laden, put to sea

With prosp'rous winds; a woman leads the way.
I know not, if by
stress of weather driv'n,

Or was their fatal course dispos'd by Heav'n;

At last they landed, where from far your eyes
May view the turrets
of new Carthage rise;
There bought a space of ground, which (Byrsa
call'd,
From the bull's hide) they first inclos'd, and wall'd.
But
whence are you? what country claims your birth?
What seek you,
strangers, on our Libyan earth?"
To whom, with sorrow streaming from his eyes,
And deeply sighing,

thus her son replies:
"Could you with patience hear, or I relate,
O
nymph, the tedious annals of our fate!
Thro' such a train of woes if I
should run,
The day would sooner than the tale be done!
From
ancient Troy, by force expell'd, we cameIf
you by chance have heard
the Trojan name.
On various seas by various tempests toss'd,
At
length we landed on your Libyan coast.
The good Aeneas am I call'd-
a name,
While Fortune favor'd, not unknown to fame.
My
household gods, companions of my woes,
With pious care I rescued
from our foes.
To fruitful Italy my course was bent;
And from the
King of Heav'n is my descent.
With twice ten sail I cross'd the
Phrygian sea;
Fate and my mother goddess led my way.
Scarce
sev'n, the thin remainders of my fleet,
From storms preserv'd, within
your harbor meet.
Myself distress'd, an exile, and unknown,

Debarr'd from Europe, and from Asia thrown,
In Libyan desarts
wander thus alone."
His tender parent could no longer bear;
But, interposing, sought to
soothe his care.
"Whoe'er you are- not unbelov'd by Heav'n,
Since
on our friendly shore your ships are driv'nHave
courage: to the gods
permit the rest,
And to the queen expose your just request.
Now
take this earnest of success, for more:
Your scatter'd fleet is join'd
upon the shore;
The winds are chang'd, your friends from danger free;

Or I renounce my skill in augury.
Twelve swans behold in
beauteous order move,
And stoop with closing pinions from above;

Whom late the bird of Jove had driv'n along,
And thro' the clouds
pursued the scatt'ring throng:
Now, all united in a goodly team,

They skim the ground, and seek the quiet stream.
As they, with joy
returning, clap their wings,
And ride the circuit of the skies in rings;

Not otherwise your ships, and ev'ry friend,

Already hold the port,
or with swift sails descend.
No more advice is needful; but pursue

The path before you, and the town in view."
Thus having said, she turn'd, and made appear
Her neck refulgent,

and dishevel'd hair,
Which, flowing from her shoulders, reach'd the
ground.
And widely spread ambrosial scents around:
In length of
train descends her sweeping gown;
And, by her graceful walk, the
Queen of Love is known.
The prince pursued the parting deity
With
words like these: "Ah! whither do you fly?
Unkind and cruel! to
deceive your son
In borrow'd shapes, and his embrace to shun;

Never to bless my sight, but thus unknown;
And still to speak in
accents not your own."
Against the goddess these complaints he made,

But took the path, and her commands obey'd.
They march, obscure;
for Venus kindly shrouds
With mists their persons, and involves in
clouds,
That, thus unseen, their passage none might stay,
Or force
to tell the causes of their way.
This part perform'd, the goddess flies
sublime
To visit Paphos and her native clime;
Where garlands, ever
green and ever fair,
With vows are offer'd, and with solemn pray'r:

A hundred altars in her temple smoke;
A thousand bleeding hearts her
pow'r invoke.
They climb the next ascent, and, looking down,
Now at a nearer
distance view the town.
The prince with wonder sees the stately
tow'rs,
Which late were huts and shepherds' homely bow'rs,
The
gates and streets; and hears, from ev'ry part,
The noise and busy
concourse of the mart.
The toiling Tyrians on each other call
To ply
their labor: some extend the wall;
Some build the citadel; the brawny
throng
Or dig, or push unwieldly stones along.
Some