y the Tyrians are at work. These draw
The bastions' lines, roll stones and trench the ground;
Or build the citadel; those clothe with awe
The Senate; there they choose the judges for the law.

LVII. These delve the port; the broad foundations there
They lay for theatres of ample space,
And columns, hewn from marble rocks, prepare,
Tall ornaments, the future stage to grace.
As bees in early summer swarm apace
Through flowery fields, when forth from dale and dell
They lead the full-grown offspring of the race,
Or with the liquid honey store each cell,
And make the teeming hive with nectarous sweets to swell.

LVIII. These ease the comers of their loads, those drive
The drones afar. The busy work each plies,
And sweet with thyme and honey smells the hive.
"O happy ye, whose walls already rise!"
Exclaimed AEneas, and with envious eyes
Looked up where pinnacles and roof-tops showed
The new-born city; then in wondrous wise,
Clothed in the covering of the friendly cloud,
Passed through the midst unseen, and mingled with the crowd.

LIX. A grove stood in the city, rich in shade,
Where storm-tost Tyrians, past the perilous brine,
Dug from the ground, by royal Juno's aid,
A war-steed's head, to far-off days a sign
That wealth and prowess should adorn the line.
Here, by the goddess and her gifts renowned,
Sidonian Dido built a stately shrine.
All brazen rose the threshold; brass was round
The door-posts; brazen doors on grating hinges sound.

LX. Here a new sight AEneas' hopes upraised,
And fear was softened, and his heart was mann'd.
For while, the queen awaiting, round he gazed,
And marvelled at the happy town, and scanned
The rival labours of each craftsman's hand,
Behold, Troy's battles on the walls appear,
The war, since noised through many a distant land,
There Priam and th' Atridae twain, and here
Achilles, fierce to both, still ruthless and severe.

LXI. Pensive he stood, and with a rising tear,
"What lands, Achates, on the earth, but know
Our labours? See our Priam! Even here
Worth wins her due, and there are tears to flow,
And human hearts to feel for human woe.
Fear not," he cries, "Troy's glory yet shall gain
Some safety." Thus upon the empty show
He feeds his soul, while ever and again
Deeply he sighs, and tears run down his cheeks like rain.

LXII. He se