The Fourth Book of Virgils Aeneid and the Ninth Book of Voltaires Henriad | Page 5

the
flame within her breast
In silence prey'd, and burn'd in every vein.

Fix'd in her heart, his voice, his form remain;
5 Still would her
thought the Hero's fame retrace,
Her fancy feed upon his heav'nly race:
Care to her wearied frame
gives no repose,
Her anxious night no balmy slumber knows;
And
scarce the morn, in purple beams array'd,
10 Chas'd from the humid
pole the ling'ring shade,
Her sister, fond companion of her thought,
Thus in the anguish of her
soul she sought.
Dear Anna, tell me, why this broken rest?
What
mean these boding thoughts? who is this guest,
15 This lovely
stranger that adorns our court?
How great his mein! and what a godlike port!
It must be true, no idle
voice of Fame,
From heav'n, I'm sure, such forms, such virtue came.

} Degenerate spirits are by fear betray'd,
20 } His soul, alas, what
fortunes have essay'd;
} What feats of war!--and in what words convey'd!
Were it not fix'd,
determin'd in my mind,
That me no more the nuptial tye shall bind,

Since Death deceiv'd the first fond flame I knew:
25 Were Hymen's
rites less odious to my view,
To this one fault perhaps I might give way;
For must I own it? Anna
since the day
Sicheus fell, (that day a brother's guilt,
A brother's
blood upon our altars spilt);
30 He, none but he, my feelings could
awake,
Or with one doubt my wav'ring bosom shake.
Yes! these are
symptoms of my former flame;
But sooner thro' her very inmost
frame,
May gaping Earth my sinking feet betray;
35 Jove's
light'ning blast me from this vital ray

To Hell's pale shade, and Night's eternal reign,
Ere, sacred Honor, I
thy rite profane.
Oh, no! to whom my virgin faith I gave,
"Twas his,
and his remains within the grave".
40 She ceas'd--but down her bosom gush'd her tears.
"O dearer than the genial ray that cheers",
Her sister cry'd, shall
lonely grief consume,
Lost to the joys of love your beauties bloom,

Lost to the joys, maternal feelings share?
45 Do shades for this, do
buried ashes care?
That new in grief no lover should succeed,
Tyrians in vain, in vain
Iarba plead;
That every chief of Afric's wide domain,
In triumphs
proud, should learn to sue in vain;
50 'Twas well; but why a mutual
flame withstand?
Can you forget who owns this hostile land?
Unconquer'd Getulans
your walls surround,
The Syri untam'd, the wild Numidian bound.

Thro' the wide desert fierce Barceans roam:
55 Why need I mention
from our former home,
The deadly war, a brother's threats prepare?
For me, I think, that
Juno's fost'ring care,
Some god auspicious, rais'd the winds that bore

Those Phrygian vessels to our Lybian shore.
60 Their godlike chief
should happy Dido wed,
How would her walls ascend, her empire spread?
Join'd by the arms
of Troy, with such allies,
Think to what height will Punic glory rise.

Win but the gods, their sacred off'rings pay;
65 Detain your guest;
invent some fond delay.
See low'ring tempests o'er the ocean ply,
The shatter'd vessels, the
inclement sky».
Each word that dropt inflam'd her burning mind,
And all her wav'ring
soul to love inclin'd;
70 New gleams of hope in Dido's bosom play,

And Honor's bright idea fades away.
Fain would the sisters now, by gift and pray'r,
With heav'n seduc'd,
the conscious error share.
At ev'ry shrine, the fav'ring gods to gain,

75 In order due are proper victims slain;
To Ceres, Bacchus, and the God of Light,
And Juno most, who tends
the nuptial rite.
Herself the goblet lovely Dido bears,
Her graceful
arm the sacred vessel rears;
80 And where the horns above the
forehead join,
Upon the snow-white heifer pours the wine:
Before the god with
awful grace she bows,
Moves round the altar rich with daily vows,

Hangs o'er the victim, in its bosom pries,
85 And through the
breathing entrail darts her eyes.
Vain cares, alas! and rites too fondly paid!
The tortur'd soul, can
vows, can altars aid?
Weak boast of priests, and ineffectual pray'rs!

In her own heart, unknown, her fate she bears.
90 The pleasing flame
upon her vitals feeds,
The silent wound within her bosom bleeds.
She raves, she burns, and with uncertain mind,
Roams o'er the town;
roams like the wounded hind,
Whom in the woods, unconscious of
his deed,
95 The hunter pierc'd, and left the trembling reed;
O'er woods, o'er quaries, from the pain she springs,
While in her flank
the deadly arrow clings.
} So with Æneas love-sick Dido strays,

100 } Points to her town, her Tyrian wealth displays,
} While ev'ry look her longing soul betrays;
And fain her lips would
tell the fond desire,
But scarce begun--the trembling words expire:

--When later hours convivial pleasure bring,
Then back to Troy, her
thoughts impatient spring,
105 The well known story still enchants
her ears,

She hangs enamour'd on each word she hears:
But when the moon
with paler splendor glows,
When stars descending counsel sweet
repose,
In the deserted hall, alone she mourns;
110 Each word, each
look, upon her soul returns,
She sees him absent, hears him o'er again,
Presses the happy couch
where he had lain;
Or with the father's rising