him to Idalia's height, Where breathing marjoram around him throws
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Sweet shade, and odorous flowers his slumbering limbs compose.
XCII .
Forth Cupid, at his mother's word, repairs, And merrily, for brave Achates led, The royal presents to the Tyrians bears. There, under gorgeous curtains, at the head Sate Dido, throned upon a golden bed. There, flocking in, the Trojans and their King Recline on purple coverlets outspread. Bread, heaped in baskets, the attendants bring,
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Towels with smooth-shorn nap, and water from the spring.
XCIII .
Within are fifty maidens, charged with care To dress the food, and nurse the flames divine. A hundred more, and youths like-aged, prepare To load the tables and arrange the wine. There, entering too, on broidered seats recline The Tyrians, crowding through the festive court. They praise the boy, his glowing looks divine, The words he feigned, the royal gifts he brought,
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The robe, the saffron veil with bright acanthus wrought.
XCIV .
Doomed to devouring Love, the hapless queen Burns as she gazes, with insatiate fire, Charmed by his presents and his youthful mien: He, fondly clinging to his fancied sire, Gave all the love that parents' hearts desire, Then seeks the queen. She, fixing on the boy Her eyes, her soul, impatient to admire, Now, fondling, folds him to her lap with joy;
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Weetless, alas! what god is plotting to destroy.
XCV .
True to his Paphian mother, trace by trace, Slowly the Love-god with prevenient art, Begins the lost Sychæus to efface, And living passion to a breast impart Long dead to feeling, and a vacant heart. Now, hushed the banquet and the tables all Removed, huge wine-bowls for each guest apart They wreathe with flowers. The noise of festival
847
Rings through the spacious courts, and rolls along the hall.
XCVI .
There, blazing from the gilded roof, are seen Bright lamps, and torches turn the night to day. Now for the ponderous goblet called the Queen, Of jewelled gold, which Belus used and they Of Belus' line, and poured the wine straightway, And prayed, while silence filled the crowded hall: "Great Jove, the host's lawgiver, bless this day To these my Tyrians and the Trojans all.
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Long may our children's sons this solemn feast recall.
XCVII .
"Come, jolly Bacchus, giver of delight; Kind Juno, come; and ye with fair accord And friendly spirit hold the feast aright." So spake the Queen, and on the festal board The prime libation to the gods outpoured, Then lightly to her lips the goblet pressed, And gave to Bitias. Challenged by the word, He dived into the brimming gold with zest,
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And quaffed the foaming bowl, and after him, the rest.
XCVIII .
His golden lyre long-haired Iopas tunes, And sings what Atlas taught in loftiest strain; The suns' eclipses and the changing moons, Whence man and beast, whence lightning and the rain, Arcturus, watery Hyads and the Wain; What causes make the winter nights so long, Why sinks the sun so quickly in the main; All this he sings, and ravished at the song,
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Tyrians and Trojan guests the loud applause prolong.
XCIX .
With various talk the night poor Dido wore, And drank deep love, and nursed her inward flame, Of Priam much she asks, of Hector more, Now in what arms Aurora's offspring came, Of Diomede's horses and Achilles' fame. "Tell me," she says, "thy wanderings; stranger, come, Thy friends' mishaps and Danaan wiles proclaim; For seven long summers now have seen thee roam
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O'er every land and sea, far from thy native home."
Æneas' story.—The Greeks, baffled in battle, built a wooden horse, in which their leaders took ambush. Their fleet sailed to Tenedos. The Trojans, but for Capys and Laocoon, had dragged the horse forthwith as a trophy into Troy (1–72). Sinon, a Greek, brought before Priam, feigns righteous indignation against Greece. The Trojans sympathise and believe his story of wrongs done him by Ulysses (73–126). "When Greek plans of flight had often," says Sinon, "been foiled by storms, oracles foretold that only a human sacrifice could purchase their escape." Chosen for victim, Sinon had fled. He solemnly declares the horse to be an offering to Pallas. "Destroy it, and you are lost. Preserve it in your citadel, your revenge is assured" (127–222). Treachery triumphs. Laocoon's cruel fate is ascribed to his sacrilegious attack upon the horse, which is brought with rejoicing into Troy, despite a last warning, from Cassandra (223–288). While Troy sleeps, the fleet returns, and Sinon releases the Greeks from the horse (289–315). Hector's wraith warns Æneas in a dream to flee with the sacred vessels and images (316–351), and Panthus brings news of Sinon's treachery. The city is in flames. Æneas heads a forlorn hope of rescue (352–441). He and his followers exchange armour with certain Greeks slain in the darkness. The ruse succeeds until they are taken for enemies by their friends. The Greeks rally. The Trojans scatter. At Priam's palace a last stand is made, but Pyrrhus forces the great gates, and the defenders are massacred (442–603). Priam's fate.—The sight of his headless corpse draws Æneas'
