--What have I said, alas! what would I do?
735 Where am I--and my mind what phrenzy leads!
Now Dido, now, you feel your impious deeds.
Then was the time, your sceptre when you shar'd.
O thou for faith, for piety rever'd!
This, this is he whose pious shoulders bore
740 His gods, his father, from the Trojan shore!
Why did I not those limbs to pieces tear,
Behold the waves, the bloody fragments bear,
Cut off his friends and sever'd with the sword,
Serve up Ascanius at his father's board!
745 His fortune might prevail--and so it might!
What has despair to fear--in Fortune's spite
I'd fire the fleet, the town, the son, the sire,
The race extinguish, and with joy expire.
"O Sun, whose beams all earthy deeds reveal,
750 Juno who know and witness what I feel,
Hecate whose howl the midnight hour affrights,
Gods of my parting soul--avenging sprites,
Accept my vow, my pray'r expiring hear;
The ills I bear are worthy of your ear".

755 "If so the fates decree, if Jove command,
That, he accurst, shall reach th' Italian land,
There may he meet in arms, a warlike race,
There helpless rove, torn from his son's embrace,
His friends untimely end there let him feel;
760 For succour there to strangers meanly kneel;
And when for peace, ingloriously he sues,
His crown, his life, untimely may he lose,
And lie unburied on the naked shore;
765 With the last breath of life this pray'r I pour.
And you, my Tyrian friends--thro' times extent
On that curst race eternal hatred vent.
These gifts, these honors, let my ashes reap,
No peace, no treaty with that people keep.
770 Rise, rise some vast avenger from my tomb,
With fire with sword that Dardan breed consume.
Now and as long as Fate the pow'r shall lend,
May shore with shore--may wave with wave contend,
So prays my soul--let arms with arms engage,
And children's children war eternal wage.

775 So Dido pray'd, while her distracted thought
To shun light's hated beams, impatient sought.
To Barce then, her husband's nurse, she said,
(Her own at Tyre, within the tomb was laid).
Go, Barce, go my sister hither bring
780 With water sprinkled from the sacred spring;
Bid her the victims lead, the rites prepare,
And you yourself a sacred fillet