ill^^ 
 
 ^NEAS. 
 
 II R £ M A. 
 
 G^ 
 
 SAINT LOUIS 
 1884. 
 
 n 
 
 Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1884, by 
 
 CHAS. GILDEHAUS, yS 
 in the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 
 All rights reserved. 
 
 A. UNGAU A 00., Pilntcre, 116 & 118 Chestnut St., St. Loujb. 
 
fEI^SO^S I^Ef^ESE^JED. 
 
 y^^NEAS, A Trojan Hero. 
 MISENUS, ] 
 
 EURYALUS (• Followers of >Cneas. 
 GYAS, ] 
 
 CORINTHUS, A Trojan. 
 LYSANDER, a Carthaginean Statesman. 
 HERMES, Messenger of the Gods. 
 The Ghost of Anchises. 
 
 DIDO, Queen of Carthage. 
 ANNA, Sister to Dido. 
 BARCE, Nurse to Dido. 
 
 Officers, Soldiers, Messengers, Sailors, Trojans, Carthagineans, 
 etc., etc. 
 
 SCENE: CARTHAGE. 
 

 iENEAS. 
 
 ACT 1. 
 
 SCENE I.— Coast near Carthage. 
 
 Enter Corinthus and another Trojan — loet. 
 
 1 Tro. What, ho, Sarpedon ! 
 (jor. J-'et the villains go. 
 
 1 Tro. "We've lost our way. 
 . Qqj-^ But have acquired that 
 
 Which made it worth the losing. Simple gull : 
 He told me he was royal messenger 
 Commissioned by the state to bear this gold 
 To King larbas. I have heard, Aletes, 
 Experience makes a dull man often wise; 
 And by the sum of this it were not strange 
 If he grew wise as Greek Ulysses was, 
 For he experienced something, did he not? 
 
 1 Tro. Come, let us kindle fire; I am cold 
 With Neptune's salty wash. From this day on 
 I will not budge an inch but I do walk it ; 
 Nor will I tempt the anger of a god. 
 Who sometime yet will send us all to Styx 
 If we offend him further. 
 
 Enter two more Trojans. 
 
 g Xro. Fear not that, 
 
 We have appeased the watery deity 
 With offerings of a bull and floods of wine. 
 
 4 Tro. And so we did; our hearts are big with 
 thanks 
 For Neptune's kind escape* 
 
 Qq^^ You mock the Greeks, 
 
 Who burn the bones and tallow to the gods, 
 
 And eat the rest themselves. iSinging heard without. 
 
2 ^NEAS. [act 
 
 3 Tro. Had they but eaten 
 
 You would not hear this song. Now Bacchus rides them 
 With lash and spur. 
 
 1 Tro. Come, let us rein them in ; 
 
 For if they plunge not into some mischance, 
 Their stars have credit for't. 
 
 4 Tro. This is not well. 
 All indications lead me to suppose 
 
 A flux of habitation hereabout ; 
 
 Some well developed state of peaceful men 
 
 Who ill receive such riot. 
 
 Cor. Here we are. 
 
 Enter more Trojans — drunk. 
 
 5 Tro. Let Neptune swamp me into Pluto's den, 
 But this wine came from Chios. Years ago, 
 When I was sent with Priam's embassj' 
 
 To win the island kings. — Look, Nantes, look! 
 Here sits a bunch of Trojan water-rats. 
 Heigh ! Are you dead or drowned ? 
 
 Cor. But wet without, 
 
 Whilst you are drowned within. 
 
 5 Tro. No quarrel now : 
 
 I would not harm my enemy to-day. 
 Much less my brother. Bacchus' friendly fire 
 Inspires me to surround the world in arms, 
 Including hell and heaven. 
 
 1 Tro, Where's Aeneas? 
 
 5 Tro. By Hector's mighty arm 'tis one to me. 
 
 Cor. And where Sarpedon, and the rest of you? 
 
 5 Tro. Plague take the lynx-eyed rogue! While we 
 were eating 
 His knavish eye lit on a sylvan dame 
 Which he pursued like wind ; and by the bustle 
 The hunter had his game. 
 
 Enter a Carthagmean officer and soldiers. 
 
 Off. What make you here? 
 
 Cor, No kin of yours, I hope. 
 
 Off. Forbear your arms ; for there are more of us 
 Than you would wish to fight with. Bind them, soldiers. 
 
 \^Soldiers bind the Trojans. 
 Lodge them securely in the prison-house 
 Where we have stowed the others ; I'll to court. 
 
SCENE II.] iENEAS. 
 
 There to communicate tLe rank behavior 
 Of these sea-roaming pirates. 
 
 1 Tro. Pirates, sir! 
 
 We are Trojan soldiers, fellows of Aeneas ; 
 If you molest us he shall know of it. 
 
 Off. Silence! I doubt not by your argument 
 We, and not you, should be to prison sent. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. — Another part of the coast. 
 Enter Aeneas and Gyas. 
 
 Aen. Who told you so? 
 
 Gyas. Why, our Sicilian friend, 
 
 Acestes, at whose court there was a man 
 Who had seen the end o' the earth. From him I heard 
 That eastward from the gate of Hercules 
 The long-lived Ethiops dwell ; and next to these, 
 A tribe of people, neither white or black, — 
 Numideans, that's the name, their king larbas; — 
 And east of these the colony of Tyre 
 Which erst I spoke of, and where now we are. 
 
 Aen. But for all that you may be wrong, good Gyas ; 
 Since the tumultuous bandits of the sea 
 Robbed us of all direction, and the clouds 
 Did wipe the face of Phoebus from our eyes 
 For three successive days. 
 
 Gyas, I'll not be sworn on't, 
 
 As hope misleads the judgment of the best. 
 
 Aen. If I remember right, a queen rules here ; 
 One Dido, whom the king Acestes praised 
 Beyond the ken of speech ; unparalleled 
 In mind and person, did he draw her out, 
 A Helen and Ulysses, two in one. 
 If he spake true, and your presentiment 
 Runs not more nimbly than the gait of truth, 
 We shall not lack caparison to reach 
 Our e'er receding goal. 
 
 Enter Euryalus. 
 
 Gyas Euryalus ! 
 
 Eur. 'Tis well I find you here. 
 
 Aen. Good news, or bad? 
 
 Eur. Both. 
 
4 ^NEAS. [act 
 
 Aen. Know you where we are ? 
 
 Eur. Near Carthage, sir. 
 
 Gyas. Thus may a strange conviction come to pass 
 E'en when our working-day conclusions pall. 
 
 Aen. And furthermore, — proceed. 
 
 Eur. That one word, Carthage, 
 
 Exhausts the measure of my joyful tidings, 
 And the remainder message savors ill. 
 
 Aen. Out with't, Euryalus. You speak to one 
 That winks not at the random strokes of fate : 
 And as for you, misfortune's Mercmry, 
 Art hut an instrument, no part of it. 
 
 Eur. Then know, Aeneas, some of our companions 
 Have by a troop of Carthaginean soldiers 
 Been bound and lodged in prison ; there to rest 
 Until the queen pass sentence. 
 
 Aen, Their offense? 
 
 Eur. I know not, sir ; but by the stir o' the people 
 They stand accused of such indignities 
 As may offend their lives. 
 
 Aen. I'll stay the queen. 
 
 Some little while hereafter seek me there. 
 These Trojan spirits have been reared in war; 
 I cannot blame them much: the season's circle 
 Hath swung a tenfold passage o'er the earth 
 Since they were one with peace. Farewell till then. 
 
 Eur. But that your wisdom suffers no addition, 
 I'd urge my company. [^Exit Aeneas. 
 
 Gyas. Euryalus ! 
 
 Eur. What say you. Gyas ? 
 
 Gyas. Look you, follow him; 
 
 In the same distance will I after you : 
 For though his mother's guardage hover o'er him, 
 He may have service of a friendly arm. 
 
 Ear. Your kindness prompts me. 
 
 Gyas. I'll be with you soon. 
 
 l^Exit Euryalus. 
 Henceforth I' 11 shift alone ; for to continue 
 In obstinate allegiance, renders me 
 His lackey, nothing more. The torch of fame 
 Burns so refulgent on Aeneas' brow, 
 That his surroundings are incased with black ; 
 And I, his chosen friend, by contrast show 
 The direst difference. — I must break with him. 
 
SCENE III.] -SNEAS. 
 
 Albeit I. cannot cross him: for 'tis said 
 
 He stalks beyond the confines and the stops 
 
 That nature marks for ordinary men. 
 
 And I myself had proof on 'twhen in Troy: 
 
 For once upon Scamander's fruitful plain, 
 
 He dared confront the devil Diomed, 
 
 Shrieking for slaughter ; head to heels in blood 
 
 The Greekish monster burst our brazen ranks, 
 
 And swept the field like whirlwind. With a shout 
 
 Aeneas calls on Diomed to stand ; 
 
 And that forsooth had been his final challenge, 
 
 But for the interference of a god. 
 
 Thrice did the giant warrior make essay 
 
 To crush Aeneas with o'erwhelniingbulk, 
 
 And thrice Apollo smote Tydides' shield, — 
 
 The brunt whereof did shake the walls of Troy, — 
 
 Till balked in his intent, grim Diomed 
 
 Slunk from the field disgusted, with a curse 
 
 Against the biased god. — Things standing thus, 
 
 A seeming service towards Aeneas' cause 
 
 Will most advantage me in my behalf, 
 
 Until occasion claps. Till then, sit still : 
 
 A blessing often bears a show of ill. \^Exit. 
 
 SCENE III.— Dido's Palace. 
 
 Dido, Anna, Lysander, dignitaries, officers, guards and 
 attendants. Dido seated on a throne. In the rear, sol- 
 diers guarding the captured Trojans. 
 
 Dido. What needs our presence here, Lysander, 
 speak ; 
 And speak it roundly, for the cares of state 
 Weigh more oppressive on the composition 
 Of woman's volatile and restless nature, 
 Than on the staid and tempered qualities 
 Of man's unruffled spirit. 
 
 Lys. Gracious queen, 
 
 Your wisdom and that undefined power 
 By means whereof you sway the will of all 
 To do you homage, hath so far prevailed, 
 That we no longer need molest your ear 
 With pitiful relation, or the tale 
 Of sad defeat. By your auspicious guidance 
 
6 ^NEAS [act 
 
 A kingdom sprouts upon this desert sand, 
 
 Whose branching foliage offers peace and plenty 
 
 To all who seek it here. And were it not 
 
 That such full flushed abundance rouses envy 
 
 In our unprosperous neighbors, you might challenge 
 
 The ruler of Olympus to the lists, 
 
 And tell him proudly, this domain of Carthage 
 
 Co-rivalled his. 
 
 Dido. Thanks for your praise, Lysander. 
 
 Is there no further business to conclude ? 
 
 Lys. None touching Carthage, though I have for you 
 Some private grief in store. 
 
 Enter Aeneas and Gyas, unseen by tJiose x>resent. 
 
 Dido. Unfold it here : 
 
 Dido is Carthage' queen ; hence Dido's danger 
 Endangers Carthage, too. 
 
 Lys. Without the pa ace 
 
 There stays a horseman from Numidia, 
 Who bids me tell our queen that great larbas 
 Requests her hand in marriage ; she refusing, 
 Hi will eclipse us with a cloud of horse, 
 And override the realm with fire and sword. 
 
 Dido. While this comes somewhat sudden, I have 
 heard it 
 Through unofficial channels. Bid the fellow 
 Grant me some little time for contemplation ; 
 Meanwhile in special council we'll consider 
 Our best expedience. If our senate there 
 Conclude my exile for my country's good, 
 Most willingly will I accept the sentence, 
 And bow to their decree for Carthage' sake. 
 Come sister, let us in. 
 
 [Aeneas about to speak, retires ivhen Lysander begins.'] 
 
 Lys. But one word more : 
 
 Our soldiers have this morning apprehended 
 Some dozen base marauders, whom the sea 
 Belched over night on shore ; since which befell 
 They have committed every heinous deed 
 Within the scroll of crime. We led them hither, 
 Because they claim allegiance to Aeneas, 
 The Trojan prince; the only man of note 
 That 'scaped the sack of Troy. 
 
SCENE III ] jENEAS. 
 
 Dido. Came he along ? 
 
 Officer. Aye, madam ; so they say. 
 
 Anna. ^'hy start you so? 
 
 Dido. How! Why, why should I start? Go, fetch 
 him hither. \_Exit attendant. 
 
 We'll teach this scion of barbarian stock 
 We are not german to his country's customs. 
 What does he here in Carthnge ? Have the bounds 
 Of human habitation so contracted 
 That all the unmeasured regions of the earth 
 Afford no other spot but our dominion 
 For him and his allies ? Night's wandering stars 
 Bent on their timeless journey never noted 
 So gross a contradiction as appears 
 'Tween Tioy and Carthage: We have still persevered 
 To grace our brow with Ceres' coronet, 
 To rival Vulcan in our artifices, 
 And to assail the vast array of Neptune 
 With thousand brazen beaks; we seek no conquest. 
 But strive to bind all nations near and far 
 With peaceful interchange of arts and commerce; 
 And therefore do our watery convoys seek 
 The farthest nooks and corners of the sea 
 With uniold treasure in their hollow wombs; 
 Recharged with products of a distant country, 
 Swift Aeolus expands their canvas wings. 
 Bending their course to Carthage once again. 
 Our harbingers of plenty . — And for Troy : 
 E'er since the sun looked down upon her walls 
 She was a nest of robbers, whose adventures 
 Bore death and desolation in their tracks : 
 No profitable occupation theirs. 
 For pillage, rapine, murder and the like 
 Made up their whole existence. Such a one 
 Was Pi'iam's youngest son, deluded Paris, 
 For he had choice 'tween wisdom, law and lust, 
 And chose the latter when he stole away 
 Jove's golden daughter, Menelaus' wife. 
 For which offending Troy no longer lives 
 Save in the songs of martial minstrels}'. 
 
 Lys. You speak most true; and yet, dear queen, 
 remember, 
 That many rumors riding on the wind 
 From Troy to Carthage led us to conclude, 
 
8 JENEAS. [act I. 
 
 That Hector and Aeneas both requested, 
 Helen should be restored. 
 
 Dido. Well, let that rest. 
 
 I am right well resolved, that Troy and we 
 Are charged with such unkindred elements 
 As can not be co-mingled. This for all: 
 By charter of my high authority 
 I ask you to inform this unstaid Trojan, 
 That Dido's realm invokes no such addition, 
 As might be rendered by a lawless rabble 
 Of exiled vagabonds; nor can we welcome 
 A prince of Priam's house. 
 
 Aen. Look, where he stands ! 
 
 [_Guard makes motien to rush upon Aeneas. 
 
 Dido. Hold! or you die. 
 
 Aen. Let not my danger fright 
 
 you: 
 A bulwark of divinity invests me 
 Which mortals can not pierce. — T am Aeneas, 
 Whose fame reverberates the cerule welkin, 
 And echoes twixt the stars. 
 
 Dido. Then — are you he ? 
 
 Aen. By Jupiter, I swear it! And for you. 
 Transcendent witchery is busy here 
 So like you are m^^ mother. Do but banish 
 Proud indignation from those ruby lips, 
 And melt your anger in those orbs of pity, 
 And I will bend my iron knees before you, 
 Thinking my mother had come down from heaven 
 To bless her hapless son. 
 
 Dido. No, no; not so. 
 
 Amazement binds our tongues within our throats, 
 And clogs the flow of speech. 
 
 Lys. By your good leave, 
 
 Were it not meet, since we are all assembled, 
 Our noble visitor disclose himself 
 For why he landed here ? 
 
 Dido. We pray you do. 
 
 Aen. Ask Neptune: we approached not willingly. 
 Though I am good at horse, his foaming chargers 
 Have shook me from their backs. 
 
 Dido. No more but these? 
 
 Aen. Aye, madam ; many more : if you will send 
 fcjome little distance up the brim o' the sea, 
 
SCENE III.] ^NEAS. 
 
 You'll find my beached companions strewn between 
 The timbers of their barks. 
 
 Dido. This should not be. — 
 
 Yoke me a dozen cars with sturdy mules, 
 And whip them to the coast with ample stock 
 Of food andrayment. [Exeunt several attendants. 
 
 A en. Gyas, go along, 
 
 For you best know the way ; and tell Misenus 
 To issue order that all depredation ■ 
 Is done as done gainst me — look to't yourself: 
 If there be any flagrancy committed 
 It will go hard with some. And one thing more ; 
 Euryalus shall come to me in haste — 
 I likewise wish some conference with Misenus 
 Before he goes to rest Should there be question 
 Of my protracted absence, tell them, Gyas, 
 That I am doing well.^ 
 
 Gyas. My lord, I will. 
 
 [Exit Gyas. 
 
 Aen. Pardon my rash usurped authority; 
 I am accustomed to command and rule, 
 Have broke with patience and have almost grown 
 A stranger to obedience. 
 
 Dido. You and service 
 
 Were a most ill-matched couple. 
 
 Lys. Great Aeneas, 
 
 You have forgot what first we did enquire. 
 
 Aen. No, reverend sir; not so. — By your good 
 grace. 
 Will I with brief 'infringed speech discover 
 All those occurrences which tend to show 
 Why I am here at Carthage. 
 
 Enter Euryalus — converses ivith Aeneas. 
 
 Dido . Hark you , Anna ! 
 
 Set all my household round about at work 
 To feast our stranger. Do not halt at numbers : 
 My gold and credit is at your disposal 
 To stretch the bounds of hospitality 
 Beyond extremes. We must outblaze the sun; 
 One of the immortals walks beneath our roof — 
 We'll rival his Olympus. 
 
 [Exit Anna, notices Euryalus. 
 
10 ^NEAS. [act I. 
 
 Aen. [Aside to Eur.'] Get thee gone, 
 
 And bear a wary e3^e perchance to gather 
 Some mischief lurking in tliis show of love. 
 
 \_Exit Euryalus, following Anna. 
 Fair Queen, you know Anchises was my father, 
 Descended through a line of many kings 
 From cloud-compelling Jove. He now is dead. 
 On Ida's summit, where the rustling winds 
 Linger in dalliance on the cedar's tops, 
 There is a vale sequestered in the shade 
 Of sky-ascending trees. The curious day 
 With prying glances can not enter there ; 
 No mortal foot hath pressed the hallowed ground 
 Laid thick with velvet moss; nor may the gods, 
 Save only one, intrude. E'en here it was 
 My goddess mother, Venus, gave me birth. — 
 M3^ boyish days seem now a filmy dream. 
 As unoffending as the laughing brook 
 That runs unwittingly into the sea. 
 Upon the grassy slopes of many hills 
 I browsed my sheep, and mocked the lazy hours 
 Upon a shepherd's pipe; the shrillest music 
 I then had ever heard — except when Pan, 
 In holiday exuberance all unwrapt. 
 Trooped through the woods with his commandery 
 Of sprites and goblins and such ill-shaped truck 
 As haunts a traveller in a summer night. 
 And as the years went round, my mother came 
 And gave me eyes to see Diana's train 
 In brook and glen. 
 
 With many a sylvan charmer did I stroll 
 In sweet enchantment through the lonesome shades; 
 And on the shore, when Neptune was asleep, 
 I used to rest within a Nereid's arms, 
 Beneath the spangled canopy of night. 
 And watch the sea-nymphs wind their curious 
 
 measures, 
 Stepping the yellow sands. With sylph and siren 
 My years as in Elyseum passed away, 
 Till sweetest repetition 'gan to cloy 
 My changing appetite. I yearned to grapple 
 With tougher sinews than the yielding flesh 
 Of love and dalliance; top to toe in arms, 
 I longed to lock an iron enemy 
 
SCENE IIlJ ^NEAS. 11 
 
 With joints of steel agalii'^t a forged l^reast. — 
 
 I went to Troy, where my unpnined amhition 
 
 Lacked no employment. In the neighboring wars 
 
 I gathered many laurels by addition 
 
 To Priam's coffers: all the region 'round 
 
 Delivered tribute to the crammed vaults 
 
 Of Ilium's treasure housi>. — There lay the germ 
 
 Of our succeeding sorrow: flushed with gold, 
 
 In surfeit of abundance, we neglected 
 
 All peaceful occupation, choosing rather 
 
 To lead a life of lust and luxury 
 
 By dint of spear and sword. Curst be the day, 
 
 When Alexander steeped in arrogance 
 
 Pondered how he might supersede all others 
 
 In reckless expedition. All alone 
 
 He shipped to Sparta with the fell intent 
 
 To steal the Jove-born wife of Menelaus, 
 
 And coming back again to cr}- exultant : 
 
 Behold, the fairest blossom of the earth 
 
 Blooms on my bosom — and indeed he did. 
 
 But at his heels came Agamemnon's host 
 
 In quest of retribution : Peleus' son, 
 
 The swift Achilles; Ajax Telamon ; 
 
 Idomeneus, Deucalion's son of Crete; 
 
 The towering Diomed, who dared assail 
 
 The fiery Mars in battle ; Nestor came. 
 
 The silver tongued persuader of the Greeks, 
 
 From sandy Pylos — and from Ithaca 
 
 Our hooding spirit like a lowering cloud 
 
 Hove 'cross the water; sage Ulysses, queen, 
 
 In wisdom like to Jove. From morn to even 
 
 The roomy euirails of a thousand ships 
 
 Discharged their bristling contents on our shore. 
 
 For ten long years the din and clash of arms 
 
 Rang from the field, and many warlike heroes 
 
 Went home to Orcus. What my portance there 
 
 Might I without extravagance or shame 
 
 Unboastingly promulgate, were it not 
 
 That idle iterance of a noble act 
 
 Stales it's performance. Yet our cause was wrong: 
 
 We fought with Mars and Venus, while our foe 
 
 Wielded his weapon with Athene's aid 
 
 For Juno's sacred rites. — Now comes the end: 
 
 While Dian's weary eyelid drooped in slumber, 
 
12 ^NEAS. [act II. 
 
 And every Trojan couch was hung in black, 
 
 A trickster's cunning overcrowed our portals, 
 
 And Ilium sank in dust. As I awoke, 
 
 The brunt of battle shook the quaking earth 
 
 With frightful clamor ; thundering at ray gate 
 
 Stood glittering Mars, all buckled up in brass, 
 
 Shouting a threat of vengeance to the sky. . 
 
 We crushed the Greekish vanguard with our bulks 
 
 And cut our way through sword and singeing fire 
 
 To Priam's house — when lo! before my eyes 
 
 An apparition Hermes-like appears. 
 
 " Anchises' son " — thus Mercury began. 
 
 For he it was — " why rage agains the gods 
 
 " In unprevailing anger? Jove commands, 
 
 " That from the smoldering residue of Troy 
 
 " You gather what remains and take to ship, 
 
 " Holding thy course due west towards Italy; 
 
 " For there, with every blemish purged away, 
 
 " Our sacred Ilium Phoenix-like shall rise 
 
 " On Tiber's bank as Rome; where bleeding Greece 
 
 " Shall crouch for mercy at thy children's feet." 
 
 With this the spirit seemed to soar away 
 
 On unsubstantial air. — In eager haste 
 
 I summoned all my friends and followers ; 
 
 Mj' household gods and what so else was dear, 
 
 I carried on my shoulders from the wreck 
 
 Of burning Troy. — Our hawsers cut awa}', 
 
 The tumbling billows and the inconstant wind 
 
 Summed up our hope. — Now might I speak, oh queen, 
 
 Of passing strange adventures, hairbreadth 'scapes 
 
 By water and by land; of Neptune's wrath, 
 
 Of Circe's wiles, and of Calipso's charms; 
 
 Of our retention in the Cyclops' cave, 
 
 Where oue-ej'ed Polyphemus gorged himself 
 
 With ray companion's flesh; of Scylla's rage. 
 
 Who pounced upon us, dragging from our decks 
 
 A sixfold sacrifice ; and of Charybdis, 
 
 The seething whirlpool spouting up from hell. 
 
 And I raight speak of shipwreck and delay, 
 
 Of thirst and of starvation, and the pangs 
 
 Of rupture with onesself — but not so now. 
 
 Let it suffice, fair queen, that yesternight 
 
 The blasts of Boreas dashed our creaking bottoms 
 
 On Carthaginean soil. 
 
.SCENE I.] ^.NEAS. 13 
 
 Dido. For tkis, oui* thanks. 
 
 You shall remain our welcome guest in Carthage 
 Until the zephyrs of a new-born spring 
 Breathe from the south, and kiss your navy's wings 
 With lips of eglantine. 
 
 Lys. A nd for larbas ? 
 
 Ae7i. A Trojan answer ma}' suffice for him. 
 
 J[Exeunt . 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I. — A Street in Carthage — Night. 
 Enter two Carthaginian Sailors. 
 
 1 Sail. Come on, come on, the Pleiades are out, 
 And we should be aboard. 
 
 2 Sail. Why haste you so ; 
 The night is dark, and many of our flock 
 
 Are straggling far behind. 
 
 1 Sail. The worse for them. 
 See, how the winged horsemen of the air 
 Chase one another o'er the houses' tops. 
 
 The swelling wind blows stiffly from the south. 
 And our commander will not brook delay 
 When wind and weather show a friendly mood. 
 
 2 Sail. Give me your hand, for my declining years 
 Press me to be remembered So, so, so. 
 
 A willing spirit in a feeble body 
 
 Augments the hardship of an old man's fate. 
 
 Enter Misenus and Gyas. 
 
 1 Sail. Some one approaches : step aside awhile — 
 Stand there ! 
 
 Mis. Who may you be ? 
 
 1 Sail. Of Carthage, sir. 
 
 Gyas. And we of Troy. 
 
 1 Sad. Most welcome are you, then ; 
 
 For by the proclamation of our queen 
 Each Trojan is our brother. — Fare you well, 
 We must to ship. 
 
14 ^NEAS. [act II. 
 
 Mis. What, in the dead of night ? 
 
 1 Sail. Why not? oh, I perceive. Your sailorship 
 Is somewhat crude in Troy ; for I have heard 
 You can not swim there but in Pnoebus' eye ; 
 And then, no further from the muddy shore 
 Than seaman's eye can see. But in Plioenicia 
 Our deep magicians and astrologers 
 Did ferret out the secret of the stars 
 With mystic computation and device 
 As intricate as strange. What seems to you 
 A glittering host of shifting accidents 
 Appears unto our pilots as a state 
 Of organized condition, yielding them 
 Direction, time and place. — Do you observe 
 Yon little sparkle in the northern sky 
 Where Dian's jewels are more thinly set 
 Than either here or there ? 
 
 Mis. Aye, what of that? 
 
 1 Sail. Of all the untold myriad scintillations 
 This one alone unshaken holds his place 
 From age to age ; while all the other fires 
 Draw their diurnal circles round about 
 This centered pole, varying with rise and set 
 The season's difference. So confidingly 
 Our mariners behold these constellations, 
 That we seafaring men conduct our vessels 
 Directly from the shore, where danger lurks 
 In shoals and shallows and in hidden rocks. 
 Across the wide dominion of the wave 
 We sail in due direction, guided only 
 By heaven's arithmetic. — So fare you well. 
 
 Mis. Stay ; whither are j^ou bound ? 
 
 1 Sail. For Spain, good sir. 
 
 I must not tarry longer. — Come away. \^Exeunt sailors. 
 
 Oyas. A prattling knave. 
 
 Mis. Whose every worrl was born 
 
 Of firm conviction. Let ne tell you, Gyas, 
 Though we are wise, there may be something yet 
 Uncatalogued in our experience 
 Which these Phoenicians are apprised of. 
 
 Gyas. A dream that lacks a shadow of probation. 
 
 Mis. But merits much reflection. 
 
 Gyas. Let us in, 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
SCENE II.] ^NEAS. 15 
 
 SCENE II. — A Chamber in Dido's Palace. 
 Dido. Enter Barce. 
 
 Barce. What, child ; already stirring. Good my 
 days, 
 When my exhausted blood was fresh as yours 
 These were the very hours I loved to lie 
 In drowsy Morpheus' arms. Alas, alas, 
 That soothing sleep should be an enemy 
 To waning years ! now do I ever hear 
 The midnight greetings of the chanticleer 
 From barn to barn. What is the matter, lady? 
 Pray let me know oft. 
 
 Dido. Nothing, nothing, Barce. 
 
 Barce. I'll lay my life some scheme of black larbas 
 Defeats your quiet. Fear him, fear him, lady. 
 He looks upon us with an eye of envy, 
 For that you did acquire this spacious kingdom 
 For what he held a jest. 
 
 j)icio, Where's Anna, Barce? 
 
 Barce. I'll call her. lExii. 
 
 Dido. Do so. Yesterday, larbas, 
 
 You were the only darkness in the heaven ; 
 But now, methinks, there brews a mightier storm. 
 Oh folly, folly ; 'tis the moment's flurry 
 That starts this image in my vacant bosom. 
 And nothing more. And yet, since first I saw him. 
 The semblance of this god-descended man 
 Consumes the pith and marrow of my being 
 Beyond endurance. 
 
 Enter Arma. 
 
 Anna. You are up betimes — 
 
 Good morrow sister— and 'tis well you are: 
 Our Trojan guests outstrip the earliest lark. 
 And walk about our hospitable streets 
 A merry-making throng. E'en great ^neas 
 Hath shaken slumber from his storm-tossed limbs, 
 And gazes on our shipyard's busy bustle,. 
 Admiring all he sees. 
 
 Dido. What think you of him? 
 
 Anna. Not more than you, Elisa; yet enough. — 
 Do not attempt to play the juggler with me, 
 
16 iENEAS. [act II. 
 
 For your dissembling garments are too narrow 
 To drape so big a secret. 
 
 Dido. How now, how ! 
 
 Wliat secret can tliere be 'tween you and me? 
 
 Anna. Oh, is it so? I'll tell you — three small words 
 And we are one again — you love Aeneas. 
 
 Dido. Hush! breathe it low. Tne music of my passion 
 Falls unaccustomed on my timid ear. 
 How came you knowon't ? Speak; for I was prudent 
 With bare considerance of it. 
 
 Anna. Every motion 
 
 Proclaims a transformation, and the culprit 
 Jumps out at every inch. Had I neglected 
 To mark your angry artifice 'gainst Troy 
 When his approach was mentioned ; had T winked 
 When with a primal glance he made a conquest 
 Ere yet he spoke ; or, had I been asleep 
 While like a conjurer he cast a spell 
 With piteous story on your eye and ear. 
 The very night would have revealed your love; 
 For when the din and clamor of the day 
 Had faded in the soothing hours of night, 
 And every weary mortal laid him down 
 To gather respite in the vale of sleep — 
 You tossed from side to side, for in your bosom 
 There was nor peace nor rest ; and on your features 
 The clouds of anguish and the beams of joy 
 'Compelled each other like an April day; 
 While from your lips Aeneas' name broke forth 
 Now wreathed in smiles, now clad in bitter tears. 
 
 Dido. Oh, speak no more ; but be my counselor 
 In this abrupt infection; guide my steps. 
 For my discernment falters in the jostle 
 Of opposite extremes. 
 
 Anna. Be comforted. 
 
 If you do love the hero and regard him 
 A worthy consort, is it very like 
 That Dido's charms will prove a losing weapon 
 'Gainst Venus' son? 
 
 Dido. Grant me assistance, heaven ! 
 
 And you, the ministers of grace and beauty, 
 Pity my hard condition, and rain down 
 Such sweet effulgence on Elisa's frame, 
 As once you lavished on the Olympian queen 
 
SCENE II.] iENEAS. 17 
 
 When she bewildered Jove on Ida's top. 
 
 Anna. The day invites our coming, let us walk. 
 
 Dido. Why should I blush ? Am I noi queen in 
 Carthage, . 
 And may I not indulge in that election 
 Which every simple subject claims his own? 
 No; banish secrecy! my quick devotion 
 Shall soar upon the wings of ^olus 
 E'en past the crooks and corners of the world 
 Where chaos breeds. 
 
 Anna. Aeneas' reputation 
 
 Need suffer no abridgement in the jointure 
 With such a one as you. 
 
 Dido. My courage grows. 
 
 Anna. In all the number of the visiting kings 
 That sojourned at our court, there was not one 
 But had rejoiced to barter half his kingdom 
 For what Aeneas wins with asking f or't. 
 
 Dido. Soft, soft; some one approaches. 
 
 Anna. Come. 
 
 Dido. 'Tishe! 
 
 I have not heard that footfall twenty hours, 
 And know the gait already. Leave me, Anna : 
 Delays are dangerous when the time is ripe. lExit Anna. 
 
 Enter Aeneas. 
 
 Aen. What, all alone? 
 
 Dido. Not so ; or else Aeneas 
 
 Contemplates only for his friends' advancement 
 And so forgets himself. 
 
 Aen. Could I do better 
 
 Than tax my memory with the sea of kindness 
 I stand your debtor for ? 
 
 Dido. 'Tis freely given, 
 
 And you deserve no less. Pray, let that pass. — 
 You slept not well last night ; I have been told 
 You wandered from our gardens to the shore 
 Before the sun had risen. 
 
 Aen. Yery true : 
 
 A soldier never tarries in his bed 
 Till Phoebus pricks him out. Believe me, Dido, 
 No sweeter rest was mine in Priam's halls 
 Than in the chamber where you bade me sleep. 
 Scarce had I pressed the pillows of my couch 
 
18 ^NEAS. [act II. 
 
 When Philomel began with plaintive voice 
 To sing her love-lorn music, and my spirit 
 Sank into calm repose. And my poor thanks 
 Is all that I can render for this bounty, 
 Augmented and enriched when I behold 
 The beautiful dispenser. 
 
 Dido. Tut, Aeneas, 
 
 How can you call me fair when you divided 
 The friendship and society of Helen 
 For ten long years ? Come, sit you down by me. 
 And speak of Paris' treasure. Truly now. 
 Or I will chide you : naught extenuate, 
 Nor aught dispraise. Was she as tall as I ? 
 
 Aen. Aye, somewhat taller ; for she could not 
 walk 
 Beneath my raised arm. 
 
 Dido. Indeed, nor I. 
 
 Aen. You stand on tip-toe now; but 'tis no matter: 
 Her grace was loftier, while your constellation 
 Reveals a sweet pei'fection more completed 
 Than Helen's lithesome beauty. In the balance 
 You'd prove as true as she. 
 
 Dido. Her hair was yellow ? 
 
 Aen. Like yours, a flush of Phoebus. 
 
 Dido. And her voice ? 
 
 Aen. Pleading and soft; the whispering summer air 
 Breathed not as low : To hear was to obej'^ her. 
 
 Dido. Her eyes were blue or gray ? 
 
 Aen. I can not tell : 
 
 In her reflective orbits lived a sparkle, 
 A witchery of mischief like to that 
 Now flashes in your own. 
 
 Dido. If you can read 
 
 My spirit's meditation in my eyes. 
 Do so, for they are honest. You shall gaze 
 Into the windows of my secret soul, 
 And tell me what you see. 
 
 Aen. I hail from Troy 
 
 Where your Phoenician characters are strange: 
 But in your liquid eloquence, O queen, 
 I read a story which the gracious gods 
 Write in the universal tongue of man. — 
 Why shake you so? Weep not, divine Elisa, 
 For while you rest upon Aeneas' bosom 
 
SCENE II.] jENEAS. 19 
 
 All mortal danger steals in fear away. 
 Conae, raise your drooping petals to your sun, 
 Sweet-scented flower, he will kiss these tears, 
 Bright twin-set diamonds, from a crystal throne 
 Whose proper king is laughter. 
 
 Dido. Ye gods, what have I done ! Oh, pitiful. 
 That woman's weaker nature can not master 
 The motion of their hearts ! Do not despise me . 
 This buret of passion will away again 
 If you will have it so. 
 
 Aen. Prevent it, heaven ! 
 
 I love you, Dido. 
 
 Dido. Speak it once again, 
 
 I do not understand you. 
 
 Aen. Sweet Elisa, 
 
 Aeneas loves you. 
 
 Dido. Then the rest goes even. 
 
 Aen. And from the first I did anticipate — 
 E'en while you frowned upon Anchises' son — 
 That all the subtle mysteries of Eros 
 Passed current 'twixt our hearts. That very hour 
 I lacked and loved you, too: — nay, more than that, 
 I knew as much as of you. 
 
 Dido. Psh ! 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Your commission ? 
 
 Mess. Of grave import : larbaa' embassy, 
 Impatient for an answer, takes to horse. 
 And will not be persuaded to remain; 
 For they persist you drew this hero hither. 
 That from his guardage you might safely render 
 An unpropitious answer. 
 
 Dido. Bid them stay 
 
 But till to-morrow morning. I may choose — 
 Well, I may choose — 
 
 Aen, No ! tell these marriage-mongers 
 
 To press their horses' bellies to the ground 
 And post them like the wind — 
 
 Dido. I do beseech you. 
 
 Aen. For if I find them when Apollo's wheel 
 Tips on the pinnacle of this day's travel, 
 I'll bring them on the way. 
 
20 ^NEAS. [act II. 
 
 Dido. Who governs here ? 
 
 'Tis I who rule in Carthage. 
 
 Aen. But not now. 
 
 Send Gyas hither. [Exit messenger. 
 
 By the fate of Troy, 
 Now that I think of it, my jealous honor 
 Begins to tingle with a sense of shame. 
 
 Dido. Oh, you have dashed the vengeance of Tarbas 
 Upon my weeping city ! he will come 
 With myriad trooping warriors at his heels. 
 
 Aen. Let him approach; for as he multiplies 
 Our victory increases. Fear you nothing. 
 Though he appear like the unnumbered stars. 
 We'll pluck the riders from their nimble steeds 
 And brush them from us like a swarm of flies 
 That pester us in summer. 
 
 Enter Gfas. 
 
 Welcome, Gyas: 
 I have a piece of trusty business for j ou, 
 As full of fear as honor. 
 
 Gyas. Good my lord. 
 
 My inclination yearns for that employment 
 Where skill might baffle danger. You did send me, 
 While yet the Greek Achilles nursed his wrath, 
 Into the heart of Agamemnon's council, 
 And I returned with that you sent me for. 
 
 Aen. I well remember it ; and since I know 
 How you would choose between immortal death 
 And lengthy days drawn out in ignominy. 
 Make you such preparations as befit 
 And seek this same Numidian you have heard of — 
 larbas is his name — 
 
 Dido. And this for me ? 
 
 Gyas. No, madam; for myself. 
 
 Aen . Expound to him 
 
 That our beloved queen can never choose 
 To be the consort of a dusky ranger ; 
 Nor can she stram her fine imagination 
 To that exalted pitch as would persuade her, 
 That in the rugged caves of barbarism 
 The scorching elements of sand and fire 
 Had bred a man of such complete dimension 
 Whose unexpressive merit would requite her 
 
SCENE II.] ^NEAS. 21 
 
 To hang these jewels on the swarthy limbs 
 Of his vile-perfumed trunk. 
 
 Oyas. I'll do it, sir. 
 
 And while I journey thither find a time 
 To shape an argument so void of flaw, 
 That he himself shall thank me for my service, 
 And hold me as a friend that raised a shield 
 Between himself and death. 
 
 Dido. This will not fadge : 
 
 gentle sirs, believe me, you misjudge 
 The reckless humor of this desert child, 
 Whose honor wounded in his messengers 
 Brooks no persuasion. 
 
 Aen. If he bristle up, 
 
 As well he may (and if it be his choice, 
 Why, he is welcome to't), tell him but this : 
 Within the sacred circle of these walls 
 There dwells a piece of Troy. 
 
 Gyas. My gentle physic 
 
 Must cure larbas ; for he hath no slomach 
 For your prescription. Fare you well at once, 
 
 [Exit Gyas. 
 
 Dido. Since you are wise and mighty, I will banish 
 These boding dangers, and from this will be 
 Your minister of pleasure : All my fortune — 
 As boundless as the gold of Mercury — 
 Shall call you master ; and whatever else 
 Of Dido's charms the world calls beautiful. 
 Take it, for it is yours. 
 
 Aen. Ye mighty gods, 
 
 Is this your pleasure or your punishment ! 
 If from the confines of all-judging Jove 
 You lead this burning goddess to my arms 
 To tempt me from my pre-ordained path, 
 
 1 bow to your temptation — be it so. 
 Close, closer yet ; now, flinty basilisk, 
 Strike us to stone, to be forever thus ! 
 
 I have drunk fire from your quivering lips. 
 Olympus, thou art poor ! By dreadful Styx, 
 Not all the vasty stretch of your dominion 
 Contains another morsel like to this ! 
 
 Dido. Let me but breathe a little. O ^neas. 
 My sides are overcharged with energy 
 Panting for breath. — Come, let us in the air. 
 
22 iENEAS. [act III. 
 
 I have two steeds of Atalantean stock, 
 More swifter than the wind, one white, one black, 
 Whose virgin flanks have never known a spur : 
 Tliese we'll caparison, and like a flash 
 Lighten along the margin of the main, 
 Skim over field and stubble, work our way • 
 Tiirough stubborn brake and tangled wilderness 
 To vent the bounding elements of motion 
 That riot here within . 
 
 Ae7i. Sweet Amazon, 
 
 The spicy vapor of your ecstasy 
 Shrouds all the past and future from my eyes. 
 Joys like to this^are worth eternity ; 
 Eternity, the fair prophetic vision. 
 That shows us all and yields us but to-daj'. 
 Our yesters drift upon the waves of Lethe 
 Irrevocably from our beckoning sight, 
 And our to-morrows in this fickle phase 
 May never come to pass. 
 
 Dido. I'll teach you how 
 
 From every altar there shall rise to heaven 
 A cloud of incense and of sacrifice, 
 An invocation to the gods of mirth; 
 For jocund Bacchus and the blindfold boy 
 Shall reign supreme at Dido's festival. 
 
 Aen. Jove and his frigid counsel now must rest, 
 For all my mother rules within this breast. 
 
 \_Exeunt, 
 
 SCENE III. — A Street in Carthage. 
 
 Enter Gyas. 
 
 Gyas. Aeneas, you will never see me more : 
 For while you revel in the rich delights 
 Of Dido's passion (queen of luxury. 
 Who would not wish to be thy paramour) 
 Will I spin out my own advantages. 
 Now, let me see : larbas dotes on Dido, 
 And I on fame; if he do furnish me, 
 I will procure for him, — but how, how, how? 
 Aeneas' appetite will choke and surfeit 
 Before three moons are wasted, and his conscience 
 Begin to prick him with a just remorse: 
 
SCENE 1.] iENEAS. 23 
 
 For howsoever he is Venus' son, 
 
 His primal cause will ever urge him on 
 
 Towards Tiber's banks. — Aeneas being gone, 
 
 It were an easy trick to take the town 
 
 With hundred horse; then will I bring him Dido. 
 
 And he must make me king of Carthage for't. 
 
 The rabble may rebel ; yet have I noted 
 
 That whosoever crams this herd with bread 
 
 May sway their rule. The wavering multitude 
 
 Lacks order and degree, and shifts about 
 
 Like some huge cloud, which every straggling breeze 
 
 Bends to and fro at pleasure. — I'll prevail 
 
 Upon larbas to desist at present, 
 
 And after prove that he attained his end 
 
 Alone by my contrivance: — That's the way. 
 
 Success is not inherited alone 
 
 By strength and power; Peleus' giant son 
 
 Could slay a Hector, yet himself was slain 
 
 Without achieving what that mightier man, 
 
 Ulysses, did achieve, who sacked our town. 
 
 Went home to Ithaca and wears a crown. 
 
 {Exit. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I. — A Street in Carthage. 
 
 Misenus. 
 
 Mis. The self same plague that rotted Ilium's walls 
 Now breeds in Carthage. Damned luxury. 
 Why wilt thou blast the one remaining sprout 
 That gave us hope of harvest ! Pitiful, 
 That Hector and his martial galaxy 
 Are draped in darkness, and his heirs in honor 
 Let all advantage slip and profit nothing- 
 No, not a jot. Else would Aeneas here 
 Unyoke the precious legacy of Priam 
 In wine and women ? — I will seek him out, 
 
24 ^NEA.S. [act III. 
 
 (Albeit he abjures my companj') 
 
 And wrangle with liim, though he shake me for't. 
 
 Enter Lysander. 
 
 Lys. Good even, grave Misemus. Make thee haste, 
 Our never ending banquet swells at flood, 
 And all the amorous youth of Troy and Carthage 
 Swim in a sea of revels. Dido's palace 
 Resounds with bacchanalian merriment. 
 While in the dusky halo of the moon 
 The god of love receives his votaries 
 In sweet seclusion. — You are troubled, sir; 
 Or else annoyed at our festivities. 
 
 Mis. Aye, more : they stick me to the very heart. 
 
 Lys, Can it be possible that I have found 
 Within the girdle of our frenzied city 
 One reasoning man? 
 
 Mis. You'll find in me a man 
 
 Not over wondrous wise, yet one who sees 
 What hapless consummation must arise 
 From these wild staggers. 
 
 Lys. Speak you from the heart? 
 
 Mis. Aye, as I am a Trojan. 
 
 Lys.. Take my hand, 
 
 And let us whet our rusty intellects 
 Against a siege of senses. 
 
 Mis. Thrive in this. 
 
 And you have earned my everlasting thanks. 
 The queen's to blame, Lysander: look you now 
 She hangs upon his neck at night and noon. 
 And bars me, who am next to him in rank, 
 So much as any minute's consultation 
 With our commander. She is quick and shrewd. 
 Haply she knows my mind. And for Aeneas, 
 The potent exhalation of her passion 
 Quite masters him. 
 
 Lys. A piteous change, Misenus. 
 
 Would you had seen her ere Aeneas came : 
 How wise, how just, how merciful she was 
 In all contentious matter. Her decrees 
 Were blended so with affability, 
 As made the vanquished victor. 
 
 Mis. First of all. 
 
SCENE I.] ^.NEAS. 25 
 
 We must essay to shake Aeneas up 
 And make him take to sea. 
 
 Lys. Meanwhile will I 
 
 Speak to the queen, and draw comparison 
 Between the past and present . 
 
 Mis. Tell her, too, 
 
 Aeneas' madness knows no constancy. 
 But like a sickly humor of the palate 
 Is quickly sated. 
 
 Lys. I'll confer with her; 
 
 Do you but find an opportunity 
 To stay Aeneas, and bring home to him 
 How lapsed in dull delirium he forgoes 
 The proud anticipation of his race. 
 
 Mis. If m}^ ability but half eke out 
 The sura ni my intention, all is well. 
 
 Lys. Here comes the veriest butterfly of Troy. 
 
 Enter Euryalus. 
 
 Mis. What, ho, Euryalus! why haste you so? 
 
 Ear. Good even, gentle sirs, a thousand pardons 
 For thus omitting you. — But come along, 
 The shrill alarums of the braying trump 
 Command obedience to the queen's behest. 
 
 Mis. There was a time when I did point you out 
 A brave example to the rising man ; 
 For in my mind's conclusion you were dowered 
 With ampler wisdom than your narrow years 
 Could give us warranty. 
 
 Eur. Tut, tiit, Misenus, 
 
 Do not deject me with your melancholy; 
 We'll find a time for that in after days, 
 When stooping underneath the yoke of Mars 
 We sweat to reach imaginary blessing. 
 For ten long years we labored in the field 
 In iron harness, and without regard 
 Of season, day or night; in heat and cold, 
 Through weather foul and fair we battled fiercely 
 Against the Greekish host : and do you now 
 Begrudge a soldier's fortune so much booty 
 As may be captured from a laughing girl ? 
 
 Mis. Has all your fine ambition shrunk to this '( 
 
 Eur. Your music is too solemn for our song: 
 
26 j^NEAs. [act in. 
 
 Aeneas strikes the tune, and I, his ancient, 
 
 Join boldly in the chorus. — Yesternight 
 
 Out-blazoned every possibility 
 
 Of wild extravagance. No minstrel's art, 
 
 No, not Apollo and the sistered nine 
 
 Could frame a phantasy of such delight. 
 
 And thus it was: Aeneas and the queen 
 
 Fell into altercation with the praise 
 
 Of woman's excellence ; for he persisted 
 
 The dames of Troy outrivalled those af Carthage 
 
 In physical perfection. She denied it. 
 
 And wishing to support her argument 
 
 With props of proof, dispatched her invitation 
 
 To all the comely women of the court 
 
 (None other had accepted for their lives) 
 
 To entertain Aeneas and his fellows 
 
 In such apparel as the queen of love 
 
 Wears in Olympus . Which temptation came 
 
 Like drink to Tantalus ; for let me tell you 
 
 The woi-ld may rot, but favor still will find 
 
 Occasion to uncover. — This I speak of 
 
 Was yesterday: and in the middlenight. 
 
 Within the guarded chaml^er of the palace, 
 
 Gathered the paragons of Dido's realm 
 
 Arrayed in pearl and gold. You should have seen 
 
 them : 
 A wilderness of breathing statuary, 
 That danced and dallied to the drowsy rhythm 
 Of melting music. Then we banqueted. 
 And Cupid's candle fanned with Bacchus' wing 
 'Gan to illume a world of charity 
 In every dusky eye. O'erlooking all 
 Queen Dido and Aeneas pressed a throne 
 Like Mars and Cytherea ; she reclining 
 Her jewelled body on his bulwark breast, 
 Where her untrammelled beauty seemed to ask him : 
 "Is not my constellation rich as Troy ? " 
 Flushed with her amorous glances, and inspired 
 With Candean wine, Aeneas rises high 
 And drains his brimming mazer time and oft 
 To Dido's health, and with stentorian voice 
 Recounts the famous battles he had won 
 'Gainst Greekish kings. Thus many a valiant prince 
 Was sent a second time to Pluto's home 
 
SCENE I,] ^NEAS. 27 
 
 By eloquent Aeneas. Which to hear 
 Would every young ambition lift his head 
 From tender pillow, and applaud his deeds 
 With clamorous approbation. — But, I see, 
 My story likes you not, so fare you well. — 
 Hereafter, when our working days draw on, 
 Euryalus will clap his goodly trunk 
 In tougher garments than these weeds of play. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Mis. Aeneas' counterfeit. 
 
 Lys. To-morrow morning 
 
 Seek you the general. I must leave you now 
 To meditate how easiest I may act 
 My hard commission. [Exit. 
 
 Eater Corinthus and other Trojans. 
 
 Cor. Stoop, stoop, you rogue ! 
 
 There's one approaching. 
 
 2 Tro. I should say there was : 
 
 One, two, three, four, five, six; you're drunk to-night, 
 And see but one in six. 
 
 Mis. Stand there ! 
 
 Cor. Misenus. 
 
 A i)lague upon your stupid villainy. 
 
 Mis. What do you here? 
 
 Cor. Oh, nothing much, good sir : 
 
 We eat, and diink, and sleep, and came this way 
 To see our worthy betters do the same. 
 
 Mis. Hence, to your beds, you minions of the night, 
 And doze your liquor off ! Are you the men 
 From whom our expedition hoped to gain 
 A bountiful addition? are you those 
 Whom our commander in his roomy ships 
 Preserved from Pyrrhus' sword — for which compassion 
 You render him such disobedience ? 
 Or, do you haply think a soldier's honor, 
 A Trojan soldier's honor, will augment 
 With breach of discipline ? Oh, shame upon yon ! 
 Run to 3'our tents and rest your wayward limbs 
 In needful sleep, that with the earliest lark 
 You rise in fit condition to engage 
 
28 ^NEAS. [act III. 
 
 With horse and lance. [Exeunt Trojans. 
 
 Our enterprise is sick 
 From tip to toe. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE II, — In the Palace Garden. 
 
 Enter Euryalus and Anna. 
 
 Eur. Yes, yes, I understand: but dearest Ann 
 I know Aeneas better. 
 
 Ann. Truly, now, 
 
 I've seen him too. 
 
 Eur. Yon rustic summerhouse 
 
 Invites repose. See how the gnarled vines 
 Are dressed with creeping flowers : here we'll sit 
 Unstartled by the boisterous merriment 
 That reels about us. 
 
 Ann. Did you ever see 
 
 A man so hungry for a woman's love 
 As he is for Elisa's ? 
 
 Eur. There's the point: 
 
 Where passion burns with such unsated fury 
 'Twill die for lack of fuel. 
 
 Ann. Do you think 
 
 Aeneas will forsake her ? 
 
 Eur. For the world 
 
 I would not say so; yet I know him well, 
 A mighty spirit rules within his soul 
 Yearning for Italy, which some one day 
 Will rouse him from a sleepy lethargy 
 To desperate action ; and this temporal lapse 
 May jump him into guilty opposites. 
 Let us prepare for either. — I have wrung 
 A sweet confession from you, have I not? 
 You swore j-ou loved me dearly. 
 
 Ann. So I do, 
 
 And will forever. 
 
 Eur. Make me promise, child. 
 
 That howsoever doubtful my career — 
 As I am bound in fortune to Aeneas — 
 You'll bide by me in spite of circumstance, 
 
 Ann. Take me, Euryalus, and I will try 
 To prove a soldier's consort. 
 
SCENE III.] /ENEAS. 29 
 
 Eur. You were born 
 
 To be a hero's wife. — But look you, love, 
 The queen of night peeps over yonder hill 
 Flooding the foliage with her silver fire. 
 In such a time, Leander doffed his armor 
 And plunged him in the heaving Hellespont 
 To seize the joy of Hero's dimpled arms, 
 Who waved her gleaming torch from Sestos' hill. 
 
 Ann. And so it was, when Cynthia slipped from 
 heaven 
 In quest of love, and all affrighted ran 
 Full many a league until she found her lover, 
 Her boy Endymion, couched in rosy sleep. 
 There stooped she low, and on his downy lip 
 Unlaced the passion of her latent fire. 
 
 Eur. In such an hour, Achilles girt his loins 
 With gold and purple, and by Venus' hand 
 Walked into Helen's chamber; who received 
 This king of kings with such regardless welcome, 
 As made his entertainment rich reward 
 For all his years of battle. 
 
 Ann. So it was, 
 
 When Tyro bathing in the limpid waves 
 Of pebble-banked Enipeus roused the love 
 Of deep Poseidon, who enticed the maiden 
 With stilly murmurs to his big embrace. 
 
 Eur. In such a night did even Jove forget, 
 And sail from heaven into Leda's lap 
 In semblance of a swan . 
 
 Ann. We too forget: 
 
 The matin wakes upon the hallowed night, 
 And pales her twinkUng tapers one by one. 
 
 Eur. Let us within, and may you ever be 
 Resolved to follow us across the sea. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III.— A Room in the Palace. 
 Enter Aeneas. 
 
 Aen. Apollo's oracle foretold me once, 
 That Greece united would be more than match 
 For singled Troy. And so it was. 
 
30 iENEAS. [act hi. 
 
 Enter Misenus. 
 
 Mis. Good morrow! 
 
 Aen. Her strength was union : which of all her kings 
 Alone had wiped us out ? They came as one, 
 And Agamemnon's arm struck down our walls 
 With twenty kingly swords. 
 
 Mis. I beg your pardon 
 
 For this abrupt intrusion — 
 
 Ae7i. Is it like 
 
 The brittle spirit of the touchy Greek 
 Will bend in peace for any length of time 
 To Agamemnon's will ? I doubt it much. 
 Peleides rebelled ere he raised his sword, 
 And Ajax, fiery son of Telamon, 
 As late I am informed, dashed omt his brains 
 Because Ulysses wears Achilles' arms. 
 
 Mis. Misenus would a word or two with you. 
 
 Ae7i. If this might be prevented — 
 
 Mis. So it might, 
 
 If you delay not. 
 
 Aen. Didst thou speak to me? 
 
 Mis. A3'^e, worthy general; your persuasive tongue 
 Can quell dissension ere it grows to seed. 
 
 Aen. Indeed! you think me wiser than 1 am. — 
 How many fine exertions chafe to death 
 In idle opposition. Let me see, — 
 I had it even now. If we could turn 
 The single stream of every great man's mind 
 Into one common channel, and make proof 
 That private welfare flows from general good. 
 Then might we fashion wonders, rear a frame 
 That would expand with every hero's birth: 
 A state like man himself, whose every member 
 Doth recognize his own in others' right ; — 
 Where one is nothing, and where one is all 
 Supported by the rest. This arm cut off, 
 It rots like carrion flesh. — 
 
 Enter Messenger. 
 
 Mess. Good morrow, sir ; 
 
 Queen Dido stays your coming. 
 
 Ae7i, So she does ; 
 
 I am to blame for my forgetfulness. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
SCENE IV.] ^NEAS. Si 
 
 Mis. SiiTah, what sport? 
 
 Mess. They hunt a boar, my lord. 
 
 Your leave, I must attend them. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Mis. Hold, Aeneas! 
 
 Look back and blush! Upon the field of war 
 You stretched in full equipment 'mongst the dead 
 To spy for vantage in the Greek defense. 
 Your pillow was a blood and rain washed soil, 
 Your drapery the bleak rheumatic night 
 Thick with unwholesome vapor; and your arms 
 Embraced the reeking carcass of a foe 
 Like bride and groom ; whereto the carrion crows 
 Like filthy shadows hovered o'er the field 
 To feast on princes. Yet yOur dauntless eye 
 Did not so much as wink; your forged limbs 
 Were proof against the baleful elements 
 That propagate diseases ; Neptune's choler, 
 Athene's artifice, and Juno's wrath 
 Dashed unprevailing on your charmed front : 
 And now, these fresh dimensions droop and wilt 
 Before a gipsy's breath! — All-guiding Jove, 
 If in the wise provision of your will 
 You purpose further than to make this man 
 A butt and target for the wrangling spleen 
 Of gods and men, — send down from heaven's hill 
 Your sandaled Mercury, or speak to him, 
 Whose ears are sealed 'gainst mortal argument, 
 With peals of shaking thunder. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 SCENE IV.— A Forest. A Storm. 
 
 Aeneas. 
 
 Aen, Stay you within, Elisa; for I see 
 The tumbling dolphins of the upper main 
 Coiling their huge backs to a lowering bulk. — 
 How dull and heavy is the silent air. 
 Save when a sullen gust of fitful wind 
 Sweeps through the hollow caverns of the earth 
 And straight is hushed again. The yellow leaves 
 Circle affrighted from their lofty perch ; 
 The timorous burghers of this ancient wood 
 
32 ^NEAS. [act IV. 
 
 Creep into shelter ; and the fowls of heaven 
 With noisy accent tack their feathery sails 
 Predicting storm. Such weird expectancy 
 Might startle conscience in a guilty soul . — 
 But what is this to me ? Distempered nature 
 Instils the ignorant with oppressive fear, 
 While wiser men behold the angry tempest 
 With wonder and amazement, nothing more. — 
 Howl on, ye lusty whirlwinds ! What, for shame ! 
 Pluck out the primal forest by the roots 
 And plant it on the moon ! Ye pelting clouds. 
 Pile watery mountains on the dusty earth 
 Olympus high, and make our drowned streets 
 A maze for Neptune's tribe! Shout once again, 
 Ye deafening thunders ! bellow, till you wake 
 Earth-shaking Seismos, whose prodigious wrath 
 Can spill the slimy monsters of the deep 
 Upon our fruitful fields, and make our homes, 
 Our temples, and our brazen armaments 
 Topple into the billows of the sea. — 
 Strike, strike, ye bolts of lightning! split our earth 
 Into ten thousand pieces ! Join your arms. 
 Disrupting elements ! drench, burn and pound 
 Our glorious world into the steaming wrack 
 That chaos looked upon, 
 
 Hermes Appears. 
 
 Hermes. Dissembling man, 
 
 Why do you seek to calm your troubled soul 
 With boisterous exclamation ? I am sent 
 By him who shapes the destiny of men 
 To bring these summons — listen and obey: 
 To-morrow, ere Apollo lift his eye 
 Above the level of the shining sea. 
 You must to ship and sail for Italy. 
 This dalliance with the love-sick queen of Carthage 
 Merits most high rebuke; which to atone. 
 The remnant of your days shall lack the blessing 
 Of woman's love. Jove's wisdom doth decree . 
 To cure the greater evil with the less. — 
 There lies your way. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Aen. For Italy ! 'Tis well. 
 
 I am resolved ; my theme is Italy ! 
 
SCENE I.] ^NEAS. 33 
 
 Enter Dido. 
 
 Dido. Aeneas, wait a minute; I'll along. 
 
 Aen. Why plunge another weapon in this corpse, 
 Relentless gods! Ye might have spared me this. — 
 Sweet rose of Carthage, what will 'come of thee! 
 
 Dido. See, I am dry and merry : not a drop 
 Of heaven's sorrow reached me. Let us in 
 And change your garments. Here's my cloak, Aeneas; 
 'Tis soft and warm; — nay, let me do my ofilce. 
 These colors are becoming — what's the matter? 
 
 Aen. A flash of lightning struck me even now. 
 
 Dido. You fright me, where ? 
 
 Aen. Pity me not, Elisa; 
 
 Your anxious eyes augment the wasting fires 
 That fate has kindled here . 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE I. — A Room in Lysander's House. 
 
 Lysander. 
 
 Lys, Another season of such husbandry 
 Will bankrupt Carthage. What a prodigal 
 Our one time thrifty Dido grows to be. 
 
 Enter Aeneas. 
 
 A rare but welcome visit ; pray you sit. 
 
 Aen. Lysander, when I yet was green in Carthage, 
 You gave me promise to assist me hence 
 When it so pleased me. 
 
 Lys. Very like I did ; 
 
 And what I promise I am wont to keep. — 
 But you are jesting: what would Dido say 
 To your departure. — Pardon me, Aeneas, 
 But undisputed rumors give it out 
 You had resolved to stay ; and all appearance 
 Led us to think so too. 
 
 Aen. Yourself included ? 
 
 Lys. You gave no cause for thinking otherwise. 
 
34 JENEAS. [act IV. 
 
 Aen, Then let me speak it roundly : Look, Lysander, 
 I am right well aware my reputation 
 Grows dull and tarnished in the fair opinion 
 Of many wise and proper lookers-on, 
 Among the which, Lysander, you are one : — 
 But my repentance shall regild my honor, 
 And raise me to that jealous seat again 
 Where once I sat. — The brief of all is this : 
 I go to-night. If you'll assist me, well; 
 If not, I'll ship without. 
 
 Lys. The time is short. 
 
 Aen. So much the better: I am well resolved ; 
 And twixt convincement and the hour of action 
 Aeneas knows no difference. 
 
 Lys. Let me see — 
 
 How many ships ? 
 
 Aen, I can not tell, Lysander : 
 
 Perchance a goodly number of my friends 
 May choose to stay behind; and then, again, 
 There may be some adventurous stuff in Carthage 
 Will range along, 
 
 Lys. Is Dido one in this ? 
 
 Aen. Not yet. 
 
 Lys. 'Tis]well; for if it please her not, 
 
 She'll get prevention. — Still, I fear her not: 
 She bears a circumspect and prudent mind, 
 Whose judgment needs must tell her it were best 
 For Troy, for Carthage, for herself and you. 
 To strangle any friendship that might seem 
 To tend into affection. Though she loved 3'ou 
 Beyond example, you could never wed her: 
 For she as queen, as ruler of her country, 
 Forgoes the sweetness of dependency, 
 Which teaches women to obey their husbands, 
 To shape their softer natures to his humors, 
 And cling to him in favor and in fear 
 No matter where. Queen Dido's lofty state 
 Makes her a paradox ; and as for you, 
 One so intent to dwell in Italy 
 Can not be king in Carthage. 
 
 Aen. Let us then 
 
 Make hasty preparation: — It were well 
 To bring the vessels of our expedition 
 Some distance from the town, and thus avoid 
 
SCENE I.] .ENEAS. 35 
 
 A curious multitude whose wagging tongue 
 Might else commit us. All things being yare, 
 Misenus shall collect our scattered kinsmen 
 Close by the ships : when twilight winks in heaven 
 I'll speak to them, and charge each craven heart 
 With bounding valor. Fare you well till then. 
 
 Lys. But one thing more, Aeneas : shall I broach 
 Your parting to the queen ? 
 
 Aen. I pray you do — 
 
 But not directly : see you sound her first 
 To know how she will take it. If she weaken, 
 Tell her you speak of possibilities, 
 And interlard your wary exposition 
 With ample ifs ; but, should you find her firm, 
 Then lay foundation with a skillful tongue 
 Upon whose basis I may later on 
 Build many reasons and my last adieu. 
 
 Lys. Aye, truly— 
 
 Aen. Well, what is it? 
 
 Lys. Good my lord, 
 
 Remember she is fair and eloquent ; 
 Her atmosphere has never been invaded 
 By prosperous opposition, and her tears 
 Might even melt Aeneas. Therefore, sir, 
 I hold it best you circumvent this danger. 
 As more or less it is, and take your journey 
 Sans taking leave of Dido. 
 
 Aen. What? shall I 
 
 Slink like a thankless beggar from the house 
 Wherein an angel ministered my wants ? 
 No, not for Carthage ! 
 
 Lys. Very well, good sir; — 
 
 I'll see you then to-night. 
 
 Aen. To-night. 
 
 Lys. Farewell. 
 
 [^Exit. 
 
 Aen. Now must Aeneas shed his silken trappings 
 To creep into a coat of rugged mail ; 
 Must now forsake Elisa's fragrant bosom 
 To rock awake on surgy Neptune's breast. — 
 The trump of war o'ershrills the pipe of peace, 
 The serried march outsteps our nimble dances, 
 The shout of battle drowns our songs of mirth. 
 And every dulcet harmony doth split 
 
36 ^NEAS. [act IV. 
 
 To jangling discord. — See, the waning day- 
 No w furls a misty mantle o'er his brow, 
 And hies him to the mazy labyrinth 
 Where Thetis dwells — So many dread events 
 Crowd on the brink of time, these next two hours 
 Are crammed with twenty years. 
 
 Enter Misenus and Euryalus, 
 
 How now, Misenus ! 
 I'm glad to see you well. 
 
 Mis. Good evening, general. 
 
 Ae7i. You too, Euryalus! well met, indeed: 
 Let us walk in together, gentle friends ; 
 I have a thousand matters in my mind 
 We must converse together. 
 
 Eur. By your leave, 
 
 A trifling quick appointment stays my coming, — 
 I will return anon. 
 
 Ae7i. Nay, come with us : 
 
 For when you catch the drift of our intention, 
 M3' life on't, you will thank me for prevention. 
 
 [ Exeunt . 
 
 SCENP'. II. — A Chamber in Dido's Palace. 
 
 A7ina, 
 
 Anna. Barce is old and feeble, or ere this 
 She had returned. Perhaps she can not find him, ' 
 
 Or hath consigned her task to nimbler feet. — 
 Oh, prating men ! in war, caprice and honor, 
 You cavil on the twinkling of an eye ; 
 While in affairs of love you lapse and linger 
 Regardless of your faith: To-day, if 't please you; 
 If not, perchance to-morrow. — Here she comes. 
 
 Enter Barce. 
 
 Where is be, Barce? 
 
 Barce. He's a truant lover ; 
 
 But I have sent a dozen messengers 
 To bring him here: — was it so proper, lady? 
 
 Anna. Yes, yes, dear Barce : I am sick to see him. 
 
SCENE II.] ^NEAS. 37 
 
 Barce. I thought as much. 
 
 Anna. You saw nor heard of him? 
 
 Barce. Nothing for certain, — yet as I came back 
 I stood within a window of the tower, 
 From where methinks I saw Emyalus 
 Pass by our gates with unabating speed : 
 Some three or four were with him, whom he held 
 In quick attention ; now to this, now that. 
 He turned his speech, and with emphatic gesture 
 Augmented all he said. My traitor eyes 
 See not as they were wont, but for all that, 
 I think 'twas he. 
 
 Anna. Went they or up or down? 
 
 Barce. Towards Juno's temple, lady; whence they turned 
 Directly to the harbor. — More strange news 
 I can report : our house is all beset 
 With armed men, who like dumb statues stand 
 At every door, and shake their visored heads 
 To all inquiry. Near the outer court 
 I met Ly Sander, pale and out of sorts ; 
 I questioned him, but he went surly by 
 Without so much as looking who I was. 
 Something is stirring. 
 
 Anna. Here Elisa comes. 
 
 Good Barce, hold your tongue and get thee gone: 
 Perhaps you now can find Euryalus, 
 
 Barce. I'll try again. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Enter Dido. 
 
 Dido. What, no attendance here? 
 
 Anna. Aye, dear Elisa. 
 
 Dido. Keep me company. — 
 
 I am not well to-night; believe me, sister, 
 I have a fearful heart, 
 
 Ayma. What should you fear? 
 
 Dido. Hark you; what noise was that? 
 
 Anna. I heard none. 
 
 Dido. Listen ! 
 
 My merry chambers are forsaken quite. 
 As lonely as a churchyard. Not a soul 
 Did I encounter, though I paced about 
 From hall to hall until I waxed uneasy 
 At my own footfall. 
 
38 .ENEAS. [act IV. 
 
 Anna. I will walk with you : 
 
 And as we go, dispel your troubled temper 
 With consequent diversion. 
 
 Dido. Nothing grievous ; 
 
 I could not bear it now. 
 
 A7ina. Nay, fortunate: 
 
 But I had hoped an abler tongue than mine 
 Would come to plead for me. 
 
 Dido. And who's the man ? 
 
 Anna. Yoa know as well as I. 
 
 Dido. Buryalus? 
 
 Would you had chosen elsewhere than of Troy. — 
 But since I have an inkling of the pain 
 That rankles in a parted lover's bosom, 
 I dare not make denial. — Love him well ; 
 You have a sister's blessing. 
 
 Anna. Thanks, thanks, thanks! 
 
 My wildest wish dared not expect so much ; 
 So quick, so freely given. 
 
 Dido. There again! 
 
 A rumbling noise like distant mutiny 
 Swells on the air ; and even now I hear 
 The click of muffled arms about my doors. 
 Conspiracy, by Juno! — Summon guards! 
 Where are my women ? 
 
 Anna. Here Lysander comes. 
 
 Enter Lysander. 
 
 Dido. What means this heavy silence? Whose 
 command 
 Unpeoples Dido's palace; makes her court 
 A breathless tomb, where fiends from Erebus 
 Gambol in spectral shape? I charge you, speak ! 
 
 Lys. Most mighty sovereign, if my wintery years 
 Entitle me to speak as most I think, 
 I can but say, this hushed solemnity 
 Becomes the royal house of Carthage better 
 Than unrestrained carousal. 
 
 Dido. Is it so ? 
 
 What other moral did your wisdom win 
 From my delinquency? 
 
 Lys. A simple one : 
 
 That when the fruitful rains descend from heaven 
 
SCENE 11.] AENEAS S9 
 
 Our wheaten bounty prospers ; but without 
 The nurture of propitious elements 
 Our sheaves stand empty. 
 
 Dido. And your simile ? 
 
 Lys. Our kingdom's coffers, madam. From the 
 which 
 All flow of wont revenue is cut off 
 By this unsettled Trojan and his train. 
 
 Dido, You speak too bold, Lysander, 
 
 Lys. Just ; no more. 
 
 For when he stepped on Carthaginean soil 
 Our misery began : You first he touched, 
 And now his eastern habits hang upon 
 The simplest of our city. His example 
 Outsplendored industry with indolence : 
 The web of commerce, nice and intricate, 
 Sheds his unraveled fibres; half built ships 
 Cry shame upon our shipwrights from the dock 
 In crippled mockery; the peaceful peasant 
 Forsakes the pasture for the tournament; 
 The sturdy mason and the carpenter 
 The skillful artisan and mean mechanic, 
 All quit their tools and proper occupation 
 To join this band of foreign revelers. 
 Yea, e'en the greed}' merchant shuts his shop 
 To feed with great Aeneas. — Would to heaven — 
 
 Dido. Know you of whom you speak ? 
 
 Lys. ^y^i madam, 
 
 well : 
 I speak of one who ran away from Troy 
 While yet the battle raged within her walls ; 
 Of one who came a suppliant to our house 
 And now assumes commandment like a king; 
 Of one who prodigals our rightful treasures. 
 Our country's honor, and our sacred queen; 
 Of one who wrought more mischief in our confines 
 Than all our enemies. 
 
 Dido. No more, Lysander. 
 
 Lys. Would you had never seen him. — Jove be 
 thanked, 
 His time has almost come. 
 
 Dido. If you contrive 
 
 Against Aeneas aught, your life shall pay for't. 
 He dwells beneath the consecrated roof 
 
40 AENEAS. [act. IV. 
 
 Of hospitality; which none of you — 
 No, not myself can tumble. 
 
 Aen. lw^tho^lt'] Stand aside ! 
 
 Ye fret my passage. 
 
 Dido. 'Tis Aeneas' voice ! 
 
 Lys. Come, Anna, let us go. 
 
 lExit Lysander and A^ma . 
 
 Officer, [luithout^ Advance no further ! 
 
 Another step, and by Alkmene's son, 
 I'll give command to strike thee to the ground. 
 
 Aen. Iwithouf] Withdraw your puny weapon from 
 my breast. — 
 Now, by the gods, I'll spit thee on my sword ! 
 Away, I say ! 
 
 \^Struggle withotd. 
 
 Dido. Aeneas ! 
 
 Enter Aeneas. 
 
 Aen. Here I^am. 
 
 Dido. Alive or dead? 
 
 Aen. Alive! 
 
 Dido, I can no more. 
 
 Aen. Your panting bosom hides a quivering heart 
 That beats more boldly on my guilty body 
 Than all the threatening lances of your guard. 
 
 Dido. Believe me, love, I had no hand in this; 
 But I suspect Lysander, who e'en now 
 Stole from my presence. — He shall answer for't. 
 
 Aen. Lysander is a most ingenious fellow, 
 A scholar in discretion. 
 
 Dido . No, Aeneas ! 
 
 He rails against you with malignant tongue, 
 Accuses you of treason and deceit, 
 And packs the blame of all adversity 
 Against your single self, who seem to him 
 A boding raven on our house's top. 
 
 Aen. Think you he would delight to see me gone? 
 
 Dido. No doubt, no doubt. 
 
 Aen. Suppose I had concluded 
 
 To do e'en so, and made admission here 
 To take my leave of you ; — what would you say ? 
 
 Dido. What I would say? Now let me, let me see. — 
 Why, I would say : — farewell my gallant fellow, 
 
SCENE II.] ^NEAS. 41 
 
 Your little sojourn was a merry hour, 
 I shall be loth to lose your company ; 
 So when you chance to pass this way again 
 Forget not in your haste to call on us : 
 I shall be glad to see you. 
 
 Ae7i. Nothing more ? 
 
 No sympathy, no sorrow, and no tears ? 
 Well, haply better my unpitied love 
 Lies not so deep imbedded in your heart 
 As yours in mine. — So fare you well, Elisa; 
 Perchance we'll meet again. 
 
 Bido, Stay yet awhile. 
 
 Your pale complexion starts a horrid fear : 
 Unfold the tenor of this juggling humor, 
 I can not understand it. Stay, I say ! 
 Your jest is damnable ! 
 
 Aen. I know no jest. 
 
 Dido. If you speak true, Aeneas, kill me first. 
 And travel after. Speak, O speak to me ! 
 
 Aen. What shall I say ? Our dismal conversation 
 Requires no words. My love is yours, Elisa; 
 And what of poor Aeneas goes from Carthage 
 Is nothing but his ghost, constrained by Jove 
 To further duties in this vexed world. 
 There lies the torment of humanity : 
 
 We guide our vessels to the tranquil shores 
 
 Of friendship, and abundance, and of love, 
 
 But in the clouds a mightier pilot rules, 
 
 Who shapes our journey towards unwished for ports. 
 
 And bends our barks beyond the finite sea 
 
 Of human recognition. 
 
 Dido. No, no, no! 
 
 You must not, shall not leave me ! Cruel gods ! 
 
 I had been happier born a neatherd's daughter 
 
 Than Carthage' queen. 
 
 Aen. And I a shepherd-swain. 
 
 Forsooth, the lowly bramble scorns the blast 
 
 That cracks the proud top of the mountain pine : 
 
 So you and I might in a hut of marl 
 
 Have reached our destiny in sweet conjunction 
 
 Like Philemon and Baucis did of old. 
 
 But, as it is, a kingdom's general weal 
 
 Depends on you, while I must seek the country 
 
 Where Dardanus was born. 
 
42 iftNEA^. [act IV. 
 
 Dido. But why, Aeneas ? 
 
 What fanciful ambition calls you forth? 
 
 Have not your wars achieved sufficient honor 
 
 To grant thee respite for remaining days ? 
 
 While prudence governs valor danger flies, 
 
 But you provoke misfortune. Think of it : 
 
 Poseidon and the rugged Boreas 
 
 Conspire to vent their fury on your head ; 
 
 Would they not shout to crush 3'our bauble shell, 
 
 And swallow all within? And if you 'scape them, 
 
 What cheerless expectation follows then : 
 
 An alien soil, distempered elements, 
 
 Uncivil neighbors, discontented sul)jects, 
 
 And what diseases else are like to strangle 
 
 The soft condition of an infant state. 
 
 Therefore, Aeneas, be content to stay 
 
 In our dominion now to manhood grown. 
 
 You shall be king of Carthage ! Here we'll rule 
 
 With vantage of co-mingled sovereignty 
 
 Until we enter Orcus. 
 
 Aen. Speak no more ! 
 
 Unclasp your fiery fetters from my neck. 
 They melt my resolution. 
 
 Dido. Yesterday 
 
 You would have pressed me closer to your heart, 
 
 And will you spurn me now? — You loved me once. 
 Aen. 'Tis false, I love you still! 
 Dido. Then stay with us, 
 
 Go not to Italy. Believe me, love. 
 The tranquil waters of felicity 
 Run not along the dizzy steeps of fame. 
 Oh, when proud man grows overweening bold 
 And flaps his pinions in the face of heaven, 
 Jove clips his feathers, and he falls to earth. 
 While ^sculapius made the feeble whole 
 His praise was set to music; yet this man 
 Olympus smote with thunder when he dared 
 To bring the dead to life. And good Prometheus 
 For much benevolence was held by man 
 In estimation equal to a god : 
 But he waxed arrogant with big success 
 And pilfered fire from the hearth of Jove, 
 For which most rash presumption he lies bound 
 With adamantine chains in Caucasus. — 
 
SCENE II.] iENEAS. 43 
 
 Profit by their example, great Aeneas; 
 
 Forswear ambition, take myself instead. 
 
 'Twill be an easy task to learn to love me : 
 
 Were I or old or ugly, sick or dull, 
 
 Stale or experienced, or affected else 
 
 By blemish or disease, I would not ask it: — 
 
 But I am blithe and merry, young and fair; 
 
 My eye is quick and lustrous, and my limbs 
 
 Are straight and round; my brow is free from wrinkles, 
 
 My lips no poison, and my fervent bosom 
 
 Expands with yearning passion for my king. 
 
 Confide in me, Aeneas : my delight 
 
 Will be to please your humors. I will weep, 
 
 Or laugh, or sing, or dance, or sleep, or wrangle 
 
 When you sohcit— nay, I'll pledge myself 
 
 To solve intentions, and perform your wishes 
 
 Ere you have time to think them. 
 
 Enter Anchises' Ghost. 
 
 Aen. Look you, there ! 
 
 Dido. Whatis't? 
 
 Aen. Anchises' ghost. 
 
 Dido. You dream. 
 
 Aen. ' Not so: 
 
 My father's spirit. 
 
 Dido. You are mad, Aeneas, 
 
 And raise constructions on the empty air. 
 
 Aen. Peace, peace, or we'll offend him.— See, he starts 
 As if about to speak. 
 
 Dido. I see no ghost. 
 
 Aen. Then 'tis none to you. 
 
 Dido. We are all alone. 
 
 Aen. Silence ! 
 
 Dido. Your rigid hand is cold as death. 
 
 Aen. Hush, hush! Portentous ghost, O speak to me! 
 
 Ghost. From Pluto's drenching fire have I slipped 
 To rate your apathy. Grandchild of Jove, 
 How like the purblind rabble of the earth 
 You clutch the glittering bauble of the nonce 
 And lose eternity. That you might look 
 Into the timeless chasm of to be. 
 And note how many millions yet unborn 
 Tremble and supplicate with wringing hands 
 
44 ^NEAS. [act V. 
 
 Against this doubtful scene. The gods themselves 
 Neglect their council, and with wistful eye 
 Peep through Olympus' curtain. — Eouse thee up! 
 Against your birth the fiery e5'es of heaven 
 Proclaimed Aeneas' fame should not grow cold 
 Until the blazing alchemist himself 
 Collapsed in ashes. Need I tell thee more? 
 
 Aen. Forgive! I can not look thee in the face. 
 Carthage, farewell ! Lead on; for Italy! 
 
 \_Exit ghost, foUotved by Aeneas. 
 [Exit Dido. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCBNPj 1. — Garden near the Palace. 
 
 Enter Euryalus. 
 
 Eur. What, ho, fair prisoner ! 
 
 Anna, [within'] I come anon. 
 
 Eur. How quick a lover's accent touched her ear. 
 
 Enter Anna. 
 
 Fair maid of Lybia, your transcendent love 
 Rivals the lustre of unmingled gold. — 
 We must not tarry longer, sweet my cLuck : 
 The deepest folds of raven night are hung 
 Askant the portal of the grayish dawn. 
 And we must part with Carthage, Even now 
 Swift ^olus inflates our barren canvas 
 With soft embraces, with the same caress 
 That blows a lover's color to your cheek; 
 Our boatmen lift their dripping blades on high 
 To speed our dancing shallops, — Come away. 
 
 Anna. Oh, what a world of love I leave behind me! 
 Kind Carthage, Anna takes her last adieu. 
 Will I not wander on a foreign shore 
 And strain my eyes to reach your welcome vision, 
 Wishing my sight as nimble as my mind. 
 
SCENE II.] iENEAS. 45 
 
 Your friendly walls, your marble palaces, 
 Your glittering temples, your familiar streets, 
 And thousand unexpressive tricks of nature 
 Will cloak remembrance with a garb of tears. 
 Farewell, sweet sister; gentle friends, adieu! 
 Perhaps f orevermore. 
 
 Eur. Tears token sorrow. 
 
 And sorrow is a grise to wretchedness : 
 I must suppose your fortune pitiful, 
 If you bewail it. — Truly, is it so? 
 
 Anna, No; this, and doubly this, would I forego 
 To be companion of your weal and woe. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. — Seashore near CarthxVGe. 
 Enter Corinthus and a number of Trojayis. 
 
 1 Tro. What, go to sea? I'd rather go to hell, 
 And ship on Charon's ferry. 
 
 2 Tro. So would I. 
 
 3 Tro. And I. 
 
 4 Tro. And I. 
 
 5 Tro. And every one of us. 
 Cor. Your choice is not the water, prating knaves. 
 
 On which Aeneas sails. He wills it so ; 
 And when he nods your highness must obey. 
 
 1 Tro. Must, is it? Tell me now, what must I do 
 Unless I choose to do it ? Every act 
 
 Cries mother to our will. 
 
 2 -Tro. Chance too, methinks. 
 
 Cor. And father to our general. 
 
 Enter more Trojans. 
 
 2 Tro. What's the news ? 
 
 6 Tro. Strange, past endurance. 
 
 Cor. Somewhat musty, too. 
 
 6 Tro, We sail for Italy this very night. 
 
 ITro. As you are friends, may your adventure prosper; 
 For my part, Carthage suits me well enough, 
 So I'll remain behind. My love to all; 
 I will no longer hinder — fare you well, 
 
 2 Tro. Here comes Misenus. 
 
46 .ENEAS. [act V. 
 
 Cor. He who never smiles. 
 
 2 Tro. How well you played his counterfeit last night: 
 My life on't, he had laughed his belly full, 
 
 Had he been by to see you. 
 
 Cor. Very like ; 
 
 And haply I had wept. 
 
 1 Tro. I pray you, friends, 
 
 Grant me your leave to reason with Misenus. 
 
 3 Tro. With all my heart. 
 
 4 Tro . Give him to understand 
 For why we will not go. 
 
 5 Tro. • Do so — 'tis well. 
 
 Cor. Why turn your argument against Misenus 
 When he is nothing but Aeneas' tongue? 
 If you would shift a mountain, set your backs 
 Against Aeneas' base : do not for shame 
 Spurn at a mole-hill with your angry foot, 
 And flatter your ability to think 
 That it had moved Olympus* 
 
 Enter Misenus and more Trojans, 
 
 Mis. Bustle, bustle; — 
 
 Your holiday carousals are at end, 
 And by Apollo, ye shall work again. 
 Aboard ! aboard ! There is no time to question ; 
 For when the foremost herald of the morn 
 Frets yonder mountain with his dart of light, 
 Our summons of embarkment will resound 
 From cliff to sea. — Ye stare at one another. 
 And seem confounded like a flock of sheep 
 That lack their leader. What's the matter with you? 
 
 Cor. Nothing at all ; our state is well enough. 
 
 1 Tro . And since we are contented with our having, 
 We seek no alteration, and prefer 
 To rest in Carthage rather than defy 
 New perils of adventure. 
 
 3 Tro. ^Tou say right. 
 
 All. Aye, aye. 
 
 1 Tro. And what advantage will accrue 
 
 If thus we jeopardize? 
 
 Cor. Tut, foolish fellow ; 
 
 Why may not you become a famous man 
 Like Hector was ? 
 
SCENE II.] ^NEAS. • 4? 
 
 2 Tro. I'd rather have my stomach 
 
 Filled with good wine, than trace a triple circle 
 Behind Achilles' chariot in the dust. 
 
 1 Tro. Let not the poor contend to grapple honor, 
 For this commodity is held so high 
 The rich alone can buy't. 
 
 7 Tro. I had concluded 
 
 To ship along; but now, I think of it, 
 'Tis better here. 
 
 Mis. I charge you on your lives 
 
 To banish this aspect of mutiny : 
 For if you go not willingly along, 
 You'll go per force : we'll bind you hand and foot, 
 And stall you on our vessels like a drove 
 Of stubborn cattle, 
 
 4 Tro. I'll not budge an mch. 
 
 8 Tro. Nor I. 
 
 1 Tro. Let all of us resolve to stay : 
 If we combine unshaken in our purpose, 
 
 No power on earth can move us. 
 
 8 Tro. Count me in. 
 
 All, Aye, we'll remain in Carthage; that we will. 
 
 2 Tro. And if ambition prick Misenus still. 
 Let him depart alone. 
 
 8 Tro. Aeneas comes. 
 
 Cor. Now will your roaring lion change his music 
 And bleat more gently than a sucking Iamb. 
 
 Enter Aeneas, Euryalus, and more Trojans. 
 
 Aen. A bright good morrow to you every one. 
 I must implore forgiveness for my failing, 
 I should have greeted you an hour ago ; 
 But I perceive your patience pardons me, 
 For which all thanks. 
 
 7 Tro. He speaks beseechingly. 
 
 1 Tro. Come, let us go. 
 
 6 Tro. Nay, we will hear him out : 
 
 Our resolution sticks. 
 
 Aen. Ye men of Troy, 
 
 Misenus here, our most courageous general — 
 Though blunt in speech, in honors next to us — 
 Gives me to know that you forswear allegiance. 
 And turn your back upon your dearest friend. 
 
48 ^NEAS. [act V. 
 
 1 Tro. We wish to stay in Carthage. 
 Eur, Not alive. 
 
 Aen. Hush, malapert! — I'm very sorry for you, 
 But have no mind to change your purposes. 
 If you were beasts, I'd try persuasion with you, 
 But since you travel 'neath the masks of reason, 
 I can not choose but think you rational. — 
 Misenus, get you to the citadel : 
 There you will find a host of gallant men, 
 The very bloom and blossom of this kingdom, 
 Drooping with disappointment. — Ere I came 
 Did they implore to join our expedition, 
 And almost drowned me with the name of king. — 
 But I denied them in the fond delusion 
 That 'mong my brothers I would ever find 
 A single man but he would chide me for't. 
 If I conferred our sacred privilege 
 On any but of Troy. — But tell them now : 
 My Trojans are turned traitors; wherefore they 
 Shall mount our vessels ; their elected king 
 Awaits to hold them by a brother's hand. 
 
 [Exit Misenus, 
 
 6 Tro, What think you oft? 
 
 7 Tro. He touched me to the heart. 
 
 5 Tro. My blood grows warm whene'er I hear him speak. 
 
 6 Tro. You heard him say lie doth abjure compulsion : 
 Therefore 'tis clear he loves us. 
 
 4 Tro. See him now: 
 His eyes are melting, and he looks on us 
 With pity and reproach. 
 
 5 Tro. Would that he spoke ; 
 I know not what to think. 
 
 7 Tro. I blush in shame. 
 For once he saved my life. 
 
 5 Tro. We'll hear him speak, 
 
 And thus be satisfied for here or hence. 
 
 4 Tro. Aye ; that were best. 
 
 2 Tro. Let him unfold his mind ; 
 If he have anything to say to us 
 
 We'll listen to him. 
 All. Speak, Aeneas, speak! 
 
 Cor. Stand back, aside, make passage for Aeneas. 
 7 Tro. What needs this crowding; there is room for all. 
 
 5 Tro. Silence I he doth begin. 
 
SCENE II.] iENEAS. 49 
 
 1 Tro. We can not hear. 
 
 2 Tro. Raise him aloft on our combined shields, 
 That every word find entrance to our ear. 
 
 All. All hail, Aeneas! Hail, our sovereign chief! 
 Anchises' son, Jove-born Aeneas, hail! 
 
 Aen. Ill-guided Trojans, there's no more to say. 
 Aeneas leaves you with no jot of anger. 
 For every part of his perturbed bosom 
 Runs thick with pity. — Once I called you mine : 
 In camp and field, in tempest and adventure, 
 In penury and plenty, peace and war, 
 We still have stood together side by side ; 
 And if the smiles of dame prosperity 
 Did render one or other of us proud, 
 Misfortune ever made us one again. — 
 But not so now : the glaring summer sun 
 Defeats your vision, and you can not fix 
 Your eyes beyond the limits of a day. 
 
 5 Tro. His heart is full of kindness. 
 
 Cor. Hold you peace ! 
 
 Aen. For favors past I now request of you 
 A promise in return. 
 
 All. 'Tis done; what is it? 
 
 Aen. That none of you, who had a mind to stay, 
 Follow me now as 'twere in gratitude. — 
 I'd rather lose you all. By heaven's fire, 
 I would not share the bounty of my honor, 
 Nor tread the path of immortality 
 With any man who would unwilling go. — 
 Shame, shame on lUum's offal! Here's a heart 
 Cabled to Carthage with a hundred cords, 
 And when our heaving anchors 'gin to rise 
 'Twill burst these links of iron. Yet I'd go, 
 Though Vulcan offered me apprenticeship.— 
 Swiftly the poor allotment of our years 
 Sinks in the hungry maw of cruel time ; 
 Fresh-nataled infancy and tottering age 
 Crawl but an inch apart ; to-day to-morrow : 
 And thus the ceaseless bustle of mutation 
 Piles untold ages of forgetfulness. — 
 But while the tongue of man articulates 
 Will this narration pass from lip to lip: 
 When great Ulysses sacked the Trojan town, 
 There went a prince — Aeneas was his name — 
 
50 ^KEAS. fAcr V. 
 
 With many followers from the burning city, 
 
 To re-create his realm upon the banks 
 
 Of yellow crested Tiber. For the gods 
 
 Had signified assurance to Aeneas, 
 
 That he might build an empire bounded only, 
 
 Because the earth was finite . — And he went. 
 
 But Neptune smote them on the coast of Carthage ; 
 
 And there — now mark ye how the story ends — 
 
 These gems of fortune rebelled 'gainst Aeneas ; 
 
 And he, disgusted with their villainy. 
 
 Embarked with half of Carthage at his heels, 
 
 And not a single Trojan followed him. 
 
 All. Away, away ! make room ! for Italy ! 
 I'll die or follow. — Hail ! Aeneas, hail ! 
 What ho! to ship, to ship! to sea, to sea! 
 
 \_Exeu7it all but Aeneas. 
 
 Aen. Omnipotent, a thousand, thousand thanks ! 
 Not I, but thou bringst us to Tiber's banks. 
 
 Enter Misenus, another general and Trojans. 
 
 O good Misenus, we were born to conquer ; 
 There is not wind enough 'twixt earth and heaven 
 To wreck our expedition: every vessel 
 Shall with the stamp of Jove upon his prow 
 Swim into Tiber's mouth. I feel it here. 
 From our most weak commencement there shall grow 
 An empire reaching over half the earth ; 
 So honored and revered by other men, 
 The humblest member of our commonwealth 
 Shall own a passport ampler than a king's 
 To make condition. — Let us, gentle friends, 
 Be most exact and proper with ourselves ; 
 And stuff our virgin law so full of justice. 
 That from her sanctified and pregnant loins 
 An issue may arise so finely featured. 
 That e'en the utmost progeny of man 
 Will gaze upon it with an eye of wonder, 
 And draw conclusions from his countenance 
 Ten thousand years from now. — Go search the city. 
 And lead each wayward Trojan to our ships : 
 We must not leave a single man behind us 
 
SCENE II.] iENEAS. 51 
 
 Who might in after days cry shame on those 
 That did inherit like the sons of Jove 
 And made unjust division. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Mis. Rest you here 
 
 Till I return, staying each passer-by 
 As best you can; and let me walk the town, 
 Since I am looked upon with less suspicion 
 By Carthage' people and her officers 
 Than you and many others. 
 
 Gen. Truly now. 
 
 Here comes a Trojan. 
 
 Mis. 'Tis Euryalus. 
 
 Gen. Why hastes he so ? 
 
 Mis. I fear he bears a message 
 
 Of evil import . 
 
 Gen. He is strangely moved, 
 
 And looks about as if he fain would find 
 Some one to speak to. 
 
 Mis. See, he comes apace. 
 
 Enter Euryalus. 
 
 Ear. O good Misenus, we are all undone ! 
 
 Mis. Undone! How so? 
 
 Eur. The queen — 
 
 Mis. Well, what of her? 
 
 Eur. Is dead. 
 
 Gen. Not so. 
 
 Eur. Aye, truly. 
 
 Mis. Dido dead? 
 
 Eitr. Queen Dido, sirs, is dead. 
 
 Mis. How came she so ? 
 
 Ear. By her own hand. 
 
 Mis. Saw you Aeneas since? 
 
 Etir. He knows of nothing yet. I met Lysander 
 Employing every means to hush this matter 
 Until we were at sea; but I am certain 
 It will avail him nothing : Twenty couriers 
 Dashed through the city's gates five hours ago 
 To spread this information ; and Aeneas 
 Ere this perchance — 
 
 Mis. It were a charity 
 
 To intercept him, and prepare his ear 
 
52 iENEAS. [act V. 
 
 For this unkindly jangle, which I ween 
 Some inconsiderate groom of Mercury 
 Will startle too abruptly. 
 
 Eur. Poor Aeneas ! 
 
 Mis. You dwell i' the very home of his affection ; 
 And therefore hie thee hence, Euryalus, 
 To bear these tearful tidings to your friend : 
 He will receive it with a mingled sorrow 
 From one allianced only to his joy. 
 
 Exir. What, I? 
 
 Mis. Believe me you are best adapted. 
 
 Enjoying as it were his doubled love : 
 Both son and brother. 
 
 Eur, Be it so. Adieu. 
 
 lExU. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Gen» Here's more news still. 
 
 Mis. Well, sir; what is it? speak. 
 
 Mess. I bring you news, that Gyas, whom you know 
 Aeneas posted to the Numidean chief 
 In business of the late lamented queen — 
 
 Mis. A bold, ambitious man; I knew him well. 
 
 Mess. 'Tis given out that he and king larbas, 
 Then almost dead for Dido, sat them down 
 To hatch a plot by whose fell covenant 
 The rule of Carthage should descend to Gyas, 
 And Dido to larbas. 
 
 Mis. But, in sooth. 
 
 The queen is dead. 
 
 Mess. And, therefore, Gyas died: 
 
 For when the rumors of her taking off 
 Were noised abroad, larbas quick in anger, 
 Upbraided Gyas with a charge of treason, 
 A guilty man is fearful of his shadow, 
 And stabbed him to the heart. 
 
 Gen. I thank him for't. 
 
 Mis. The rascal ever knows his friend a rogue, 
 And therefore will not trust him. 
 
 Gen. Stand aside. 
 
 Enter Aeneas and Eurtalus. 
 Aen. With fire, say you? 
 
SCENE II.] iENEAS. 
 
 Eur. Aye, my lord, with fire: 
 
 In that same marble court where we delighted 
 To slumber when the merry fountain sang, 
 She heaped a pyre of rose and sandalwood, 
 In pretense of omitted sacrifice, 
 And set it off with every dear remembrance 
 Pertaining to her halcyon days of love. 
 From Eros' temple she obtained a torch, 
 And mounting to the summit of her labor 
 She plied the flame, whose vulgar appetite, 
 As it were conscious of the delicate food, 
 Crouched for an instant, but an instant only, 
 And then assailed her with a serpent's tongue, 
 Whose forked lightning darted o'er her head. 
 And wound her with a flaming cerement. 
 Aen. And died so? 
 
 Eur. Even so; a piteous death. 
 
 Aen. But proud, by heaven, proud, Euryalus. 
 Or you or I had not the heart to do it. 
 And we are soldiers too.— There is no hope 
 Your information slips ? 
 
 Eur. Believe me, no : 
 
 Our messages are fraught with such concurrence. 
 That discord found no passage. And, moreover, 
 My wife had letters — 
 
 Aen. How? 
 
 Exir. I say, ray wife 
 
 Had letters too. 
 
 Aen. I thought your wife was dead. 
 
 Eur. What say you? 
 
 Aen. Oh, methinks we all should die! 
 
 Forgive this egoism, noble friend ; 
 I am not jealous, but beshrew my heart, 
 A very child to that philosophy 
 Which teaches us to smile at other's fortune 
 Without remembrance of our penury. — 
 Poor, poor Elisa! I will weep for thee, 
 Since by the edict of mysterious Jove 
 I 'came the implement to bring about 
 Your fiery expedition. Tell me now : 
 Where dwells the nimble motion of your foot, 
 Your brow of marble, and your cheek of rose; 
 The melting lustre of your fringed eye. 
 And where the proud perfection of your lips, 
 
 53 
 
54 AENEAS. [act V. 
 
 Those crimson portals of a silvery voioe, 
 
 Compared to which the nectar of the gods 
 
 Seemed bitter as the sea ? — Forever lost ! 
 
 Unkind perdition stole it all away 
 
 To light the gloomy cells of Erebus ; 
 
 And we inherit from a world of beauty 
 
 No other having but a hand of dust, 
 
 Which e'en the stalest wench o' the trooper's camp 
 
 Might leave as well as she. 
 
 Enter Anna, 
 
 Eur. I will not chide 
 
 Your gentle nature for this dissolution ; 
 For look, the toughest bosom of our host 
 Quakes with upheaval, and the very eye 
 That smiled upon the wrath of Peleus' son 
 Doth run to water. — Shed your tears together, 
 For they are children of a kindred pain. 
 
 Aen. E'en such a one as you was she who causes 
 This trickling humor to escape my eye. 
 The world is overrun with contradiction : 
 Else could the timid passion of your sex 
 Melt stone and iron; for of these, they say, 
 A soldier's heart is fashioned. Weep not, child : 
 You have some comfort in adversity, 
 A valiant soldier, on whose wedded arm 
 To hang one half your trouble. — But, ye gods. 
 What shall Aeneas do ! The earth is empty, 
 And hope lies blasted with sterility. 
 
 Mis. Pray you, no more of this. 
 
 Aen. Right, right, Misenus : 
 
 Albeit this day is darker than the shades 
 That brood in Pluto's night, still thou hast shown me 
 A blazing meteor streaming through the sky ; 
 And by the salt of these unused tears 
 I'll pluck the dazzling jewel from the clouds, 
 For I was born to do so. 
 
 The End.