You stand possess'd of all your soul desir'd:
Poor Dido with consuming love is fir'd.
Your Trojan with my Tyrian let us join;
So Dido shall be yours, Aeneas mine:
One common kingdom, one united line.
Eliza shall a Dardan lord obey, And lofty Carthage for a dow'r convey."Then Venus, who her hidden fraud descried, Which would the scepter of the world misguide To Libyan shores, thus artfully replied:
"Who, but a fool, would wars with Juno choose, And such alliance and such gifts refuse, If Fortune with our joint desires comply?
The doubt is all from Jove and destiny;
Lest he forbid, with absolute command, To mix the people in one common land-Or will the Trojan and the Tyrian line In lasting leagues and sure succession join?
But you, the partner of his bed and throne, May move his mind; my wishes are your own.""Mine," said imperial Juno, "be the care;Time urges, now, to perfect this affair:
Attend my counsel, and the secret share.
When next the Sun his rising light displays, And gilds the world below with purple rays, The queen, Aeneas, and the Tyrian court Shall to the shady woods, for sylvan game, resort.
There, while the huntsmen pitch their toils around, And cheerful horns from side to side resound, A pitchy cloud shall cover all the plain With hail, and thunder, and tempestuous rain;The fearful train shall take their speedy flight, Dispers'd, and all involv'd in gloomy night;One cave a grateful shelter shall afford To the fair princess and the Trojan lord.
I will myself the bridal bed prepare, If you, to bless the nuptials, will be there:
So shall their loves be crown'd with due delights, And Hymen shall be present at the rites."The Queen of Love consents, and closely smiles At her vain project, and discover'd wiles.
The rosy morn was risen from the main, And horns and hounds awake the princely train:
They issue early thro' the city gate, Where the more wakeful huntsmen ready wait, With nets, and toils, and darts, beside the force Of Spartan dogs, and swift Massylian horse.
The Tyrian peers and officers of state For the slow queen in antechambers wait;Her lofty courser, in the court below, Who his majestic rider seems to know, Proud of his purple trappings, paws the ground, And champs the golden bit, and spreads the foam around.
The queen at length appears; on either hand The brawny guards in martial order stand.
A flow'r'd simar with golden fringe she wore, And at her back a golden quiver bore;Her flowing hair a golden caul restrains, A golden clasp the Tyrian robe sustains.
Then young Ascanius, with a sprightly grace, Leads on the Trojan youth to view the chase.
But far above the rest in beauty shines The great Aeneas, the troop he joins;Like fair Apollo, when he leaves the frost Of wint'ry Xanthus, and the Lycian coast, When to his native Delos he resorts, Ordains the dances, and renews the sports;Where painted Scythians, mix'd with Cretan bands, Before the joyful altars join their hands:
Himself, on Cynthus walking, sees below The merry madness of the sacred show.
Green wreaths of bays his length of hair inclose;A golden fillet binds his awful brows;
His quiver sounds: not less the prince is seen In manly presence, or in lofty mien.
Now had they reach'd the hills, and storm'd the seat Of salvage beasts, in dens, their last retreat.
The cry pursues the mountain goats: they bound From rock to rock, and keep the craggy ground;Quite otherwise the stags, a trembling train, In herds unsingled, scour the dusty plain, And a long chase in open view maintain.
The glad Ascanius, as his courser guides, Spurs thro' the vale, and these and those outrides.
His horse's flanks and sides are forc'd to feel The clanking lash, and goring of the steel.
Impatiently he views the feeble prey, Wishing some nobler beast to cross his way, And rather would the tusky boar attend, Or see the tawny lion downward bend.
Meantime, the gath'ring clouds obscure the skies:
From pole to pole the forky lightning flies;The rattling thunders roll; and Juno pours A wintry deluge down, and sounding show'rs.
The company, dispers'd, to converts ride, And seek the homely cots, or mountain's hollow side.
The rapid rains, descending from the hills, To rolling torrents raise the creeping rills.
The queen and prince, as love or fortune guides, One common cavern in her bosom hides.
Then first the trembling earth the signal gave, And flashing fires enlighten all the cave;Hell from below, and Juno from above, And howling nymphs, were conscious of their love.
From this ill-omen'd hour in time arose Debate and death, and all succeeding woes.
The queen, whom sense of honor could not move, No longer made a secret of her love, But call'd it marriage, by that specious name To veil the crime and sanctify the shame.
The loud report thro' Libyan cities goes.
Fame, the great ill, from small beginnings grows:
Swift from the first; and ev'ry moment brings New vigor to her flights, new pinions to her wings.
Soon grows the pigmy to gigantic size;
Her feet on earth, her forehead in the skies.
Inrag'd against the gods, revengeful Earth Produc'd her last of the Titanian birth.
Swift is her walk, more swift her winged haste:
A monstrous phantom, horrible and vast.
As many plumes as raise her lofty flight, So many piercing eyes inlarge her sight;Millions of opening mouths to Fame belong, And ev'ry mouth is furnish'd with a tongue, And round with list'ning ears the flying plague is hung.
She fills the peaceful universe with cries;No slumbers ever close her wakeful eyes;
By day, from lofty tow'rs her head she shews, And spreads thro' trembling crowds disastrous news;With court informers haunts, and royal spies;Things done relates, not done she feigns, and mingles truth withlies.
Talk is her business, and her chief delight To tell of prodigies and cause affright.
She fills the people's ears with Dido's name, Who, lost to honor and the sense of shame, Admits into her throne and nuptial bed A wand'ring guest, who from his country fled:
