wer, that once decked Helen of Argos, the marvel of her
mother Leda's giving; Helen had borne them from Mycenae, when she sought
Troy towers and a lawless bridal; the sceptre too that Ilione, Priam's
eldest daughter, once had worn, a beaded necklace, and a double circlet
of jewelled gold. Achates, hasting on his message, bent his way towards
the ships.

But in the Cytherean's breast new arts, new schemes revolve; if Cupid,
changed in form and feature, may come in sweet Ascanius' room, and his
gifts kindle the queen to madness and set her inmost sense aflame.
Verily she fears the uncertain house, the double-tongued race of Tyre;
[662-698]cruel Juno frets her, and at nightfall her care floods back.
Therefore to winged Love she speaks these words:

'Son, who art alone my strength and sovereignty, son, who scornest the
mighty father's Typhoian shafts, to thee I fly for succour, and sue
humbly to thy deity. How Aeneas thy brother is driven about all the
sea-coasts by bitter Juno's malignity, this thou knowest, and hast often
grieved in our grief. Now Dido the Phoenician holds him stayed with soft
words, and I tremble to think how the welcome of Juno's house may issue;
she will not be idle in this supreme turn of fortune. Wherefore I
counsel to prevent her wiles and circle the queen with flame, that,
unalterable by any deity, she may be held fast to me by passionate love
for Aeneas. Take now my thought how to do this. The boy prince, my
chiefest care, makes ready at his dear father's summons to go to the
Sidonian city, carrying gifts that survive the sea and the flames of
Troy. Him will I hide deep asleep in my holy habitation, high on
Cythera's hills or in Idalium, that he may not know nor cross our wiles.
Do thou but for one night feign his form, and, boy as thou art, put on
the familiar face of a boy; so when in festal cheer, amid royal dainties
and Bacchic juice, Dido shall take thee to her lap, shall fold thee in
her clasp and kiss thee close and sweet, thou mayest imbreathe a hidden
fire and unsuspected poison.'

Love obeys his dear mother's words, lays by his wings, and walks
rejoicingly with Iuelus' tread. But Venus pours gentle dew of slumber on
Ascanius' limbs, and lifts him lulled in her lap to the tall Idalian
groves of her deity, where soft amaracus folds him round with the
shadowed sweetness of its odorous blossoms. And now, obedient to her
words, Cupid went merrily in Achates' guiding, with the royal gifts fo