第30章

Like Pentheus, when, distracted with his fear, He saw two suns, and double Thebes, appear;Or mad Orestes, when his mother's ghost Full in his face infernal torches toss'd, And shook her snaky locks: he shuns the sight, Flies o'er the stage, surpris'd with mortal fright;The Furies guard the door and intercept his flight.

Now, sinking underneath a load of grief, From death alone she seeks her last relief;The time and means resolv'd within her breast, She to her mournful sister thus address'd (Dissembling hope, her cloudy front she clears, And a false vigor in her eyes appears):

"Rejoice!" she said."Instructed from above, My lover I shall gain, or lose my love.

Nigh rising Atlas, next the falling sun, Long tracts of Ethiopian climates run:

There a Massylian priestess I have found, Honor'd for age, for magic arts renown'd:

Th' Hesperian temple was her trusted care;'T was she supplied the wakeful dragon's fare.

She poppy seeds in honey taught to steep, Reclaim'd his rage, and sooth'd him into sleep.

She watch'd the golden fruit; her charms unbind The chains of love, or fix them on the mind:

She stops the torrents, leaves the channel dry, Repels the stars, and backward bears the sky.

The yawning earth rebellows to her call, Pale ghosts ascend, and mountain ashes fall.

Witness, ye gods, and thou my better part, How loth I am to try this impious art!

Within the secret court, with silent care, Erect a lofty pile, expos'd in air:

Hang on the topmost part the Trojan vest, Spoils, arms, and presents, of my faithless guest.

Next, under these, the bridal bed be plac'd, Where I my ruin in his arms embrac'd:

All relics of the wretch are doom'd to fire;For so the priestess and her charms require."Thus far she said, and farther speech forbears;A mortal paleness in her face appears:

Yet the mistrustless Anna could not find The secret fun'ral in these rites design'd;Nor thought so dire a rage possess'd her mind.

Unknowing of a train conceal'd so well, She fear'd no worse than when Sichaeus fell;Therefore obeys.The fatal pile they rear, Within the secret court, expos'd in air.

The cloven holms and pines are heap'd on high, And garlands on the hollow spaces lie.

Sad cypress, vervain, yew, compose the wreath, And ev'ry baleful green denoting death.

The queen, determin'd to the fatal deed, The spoils and sword he left, in order spread, And the man's image on the nuptial bed.

And now (the sacred altars plac'd around)The priestess enters, with her hair unbound, And thrice invokes the pow'rs below the ground.

Night, Erebus, and Chaos she proclaims, And threefold Hecate, with her hundred names, And three Dianas: next, she sprinkles round With feign'd Avernian drops the hallow'd ground;Culls hoary simples, found by Phoebe's light, With brazen sickles reap'd at noon of night;Then mixes baleful juices in the bowl, And cuts the forehead of a newborn foal, Robbing the mother's love.The destin'd queen Observes, assisting at the rites obscene;A leaven'd cake in her devoted hands She holds, and next the highest altar stands:

One tender foot was shod, her other bare;Girt was her gather'd gown, and loose her hair.

Thus dress'd, she summon'd, with her dying breath, The heav'ns and planets conscious of her death, And ev'ry pow'r, if any rules above, Who minds, or who revenges, injur'd love.

"'T was dead of night, when weary bodies close Their eyes in balmy sleep and soft repose:

The winds no longer whisper thro' the woods, Nor murm'ring tides disturb the gentle floods.

The stars in silent order mov'd around;

And Peace, with downy wings, was brooding on the ground The flocks and herds, and party-color'd fowl, Which haunt the woods, or swim the weedy pool, Stretch'd on the quiet earth, securely lay, Forgetting the past labors of the day.

All else of nature's common gift partake:

Unhappy Dido was alone awake.

Nor sleep nor ease the furious queen can find;Sleep fled her eyes, as quiet fled her mind.

Despair, and rage, and love divide her heart;Despair and rage had some, but love the greater part.

Then thus she said within her secret mind:

"What shall I do? what succor can I find?

Become a suppliant to Hyarba's pride, And take my turn, to court and be denied?

Shall I with this ungrateful Trojan go, Forsake an empire, and attend a foe?

Himself I refug'd, and his train reliev'd-'T is true- but am I sure to be receiv'd?

Can gratitude in Trojan souls have place!

Laomedon still lives in all his race!

Then, shall I seek alone the churlish crew, Or with my fleet their flying sails pursue?

What force have I but those whom scarce before I drew reluctant from their native shore?

Will they again embark at my desire, Once more sustain the seas, and quit their second Tyre?

Rather with steel thy guilty breast invade, And take the fortune thou thyself hast made.

Your pity, sister, first seduc'd my mind, Or seconded too well what I design'd.

These dear-bought pleasures had I never known, Had I continued free, and still my own;Avoiding love, I had not found despair, But shar'd with salvage beasts the common air.

Like them, a lonely life I might have led, Not mourn'd the living, nor disturb'd the dead."These thoughts she brooded in her anxious breast.

On board, the Trojan found more easy rest.

Resolv'd to sail, in sleep he pass'd the night;And order'd all things for his early flight.

To whom once more the winged god appears;His former youthful mien and shape he wears, And with this new alarm invades his ears:

"Sleep'st thou, O goddess-born! and canst thou drown Thy needful cares, so near a hostile town, Beset with foes; nor hear'st the western gales Invite thy passage, and inspire thy sails?

She harbors in her heart a furious hate, And thou shalt find the dire effects too late;Fix'd on revenge, and obstinate to die.

Haste swiftly hence, while thou hast pow'r to fly.

The sea with ships will soon be cover'd o'er, And blazing firebrands kindle all the shore.

Prevent her rage, while night obscures the skies, And sail before the purple morn arise.

Who knows what hazards thy delay may bring?