this, Dido implores her sister to detain her lover, and, as
this proves vain, orders a pyre erected, on which she places all the
objects Aeneas has used.

That night the gods arouse Aeneas from slumber to bid him sail without
taking leave of the Tyrian queen. In obedience to this command, our
hero cuts with his sword the rope which moors his vessel to the
Carthaginian shore, and sails away, closely followed by the rest of
his fleet. From the watch-tower at early dawn, Dido discovers his
vanishing sails, and is so overcome by grief that, after rending "her
golden length of hair" and calling down vengeance upon Aeneas, she
stabs herself and breathes her last in the midst of the burning pyre.
The Carthaginians, little expecting so tragical a denouement, witness
the agony of their beloved queen in speechless horror, while Anna
wails aloud. Gazing down from heaven upon this sad scene, Juno
directs Iris to hasten down and cut off a lock of Dido's hair, for it
is only when this mystic ceremony has been performed that the soul can
leave the body. Iris therefore speedily obeys, saying:

"This lock to Dis I bear away
And free you from your load of clay:"
So shears the lock: the vital heats
Disperse, and breath in air retreats.

_Book V._ Sailing on, Aeneas, already dismayed by the smoke rising
from the Carthaginian shore, is further troubled by rapidly gathering
clouds. His weather-wise pilot, Palinurus, suggests that, since "the
west is darkening into wrath," they run into the Drepanum harbor,
which they enter just one year after Anchises' death. There they show
due respect to the dead by a sacrifice, of which a serpent takes his
tithe, and proceed to celebrate funeral games. We now have a detailed
account of the winning of prizes for the naval, foot, horse and
chariot races, and the boxing and archery matches.

While all the men are thus congenially occupied, the Trojan women,
instigated by Juno in disguise, set fire to the ships, so they need no
longer wander over seas they have learned to loathe. One of the
warriors, seeing the smoke, raises the alarm, and a moment later his
companions dash down to the shore to save their ships. Seeing his
fleet in flames, Aeneas wrings his hands, and prays with such fervor
that a cloudburst drenches his burning vessels. Four, however, are
beyond repair; so Aeneas, seeing he no longer has ship-room for all
his force, allows the Trojans most anxious to rest to settle in
Drepan