Then carelessly I rent my hair for grief:
Which seen to all, though he beheld me not,
They 'gan to move him to redress my ruth,
And stay a while to hear what I could say;
But he, clapp'd under hatches, sail'd away.
DIDO. Oh, Anna, Anna, I will follow him! ANNA. How can you go, when he hath all your fleet?
DIDO. I'll frame me wings of wax, like Icarus,
And, o'er his ships, will soar unto the sun,
That they may melt, and I fall in his arms;
Or else I'll make a prayer unto the waves,
That I may swim to him, like Triton's niece.
Oh, Anna*, fetch Arion's** harp,
That I may 'tice a dolphin to the shore,
And ride upon his back unto my love!
Look, sister, look! lovely Æneas' ships!
See, see, the billows heave him up to heaven,
And now down fall† the keels into the deep!
Oh, sister, sister, take away the rocks!
They'll break his ships. Oh, Proteus, Neptune, Jove,
Save, save Æneas, Dido's liefest love!
Now is he come on shore, safe without hurt:
But, see, Achates wills him put to sea,
And all the sailors merry make for joy;
But he, remembering me, shrinks back again:
See, where he comes! welcome, welcome, my love!
ANNA. Ah, sister, leave these idle fantasies!
Sweet sister, cease; remember who you are.
DIDO. Dido I am, unless I be deceiv'd:
And must I rave thus for a runagate?
Must I make ships for him to sail away?
Nothing can bear me to him but a ship,
And he hath all my § fleet. What shall I do,
But die in fury of this oversight?
Ay, I must be the murderer of myself;
No, but I am not; yet I will be straight.
Anna, be glad; now have I found a mean
To rid me from these thoughts of lunacy:
Not far from hence
There is a woman famousèd for arts,
Daughter unto the nymphs Hesperides,
Who will'd me sacrifice his 'ticing reliques:
Go, Anna, bid my servants bring me fire.
IAR. How long will Dido mourn a stranger's flight That hath dishonour'd her and Carthage both? How long shall I with grief consume my days,
And reap no guerdon for my truest love?
Enter Attendants with wood and torches.
DIDO. Iarbas, talk not of Æneas; let him Lay to thy hands, and help me make a fire, That shall consume all that this stranger left; For I intend a private sacrifice,
To cure my mind, that melts for unkind love.
IAR. But, afterwards, will Dido grant me love?
DIDO. Ay, ay, Iarbas; after this is done,
None in the world shall have my love but thou.
[They make a fire. So, leave me now; let none approach this place. [Exeunt IARBAS and Attendants.
Now, Dido, with these reliques burn thyself,
And make Æneas famous through the world
For perjury and slaughter of a queen.
Here lie[s] the sword that in the darksome cave
He drew, and swore by, to be true to me:
Thou shalt burn first; thy crime is worse than his.
Here lie[s] the garment which I cloth'd him in
When first he came on shore: perish thou too.
These letters, lines, and perjur'd papers, all
Shall burn to cinders in this precious flame.
And now, ye gods, that guide the starry frame,
And order all things at your high dispose,
Grant, though the traitors land in Italy,
They may be still tormented with unrest;
|| Iarbas] "I should omit Iarbas', and read, 'Oh! talk not of Æneas; let him go"". J. M. (Gent. Magazine for Jan. 1841).
And from mine ashes let a conqueror rise,
That may revenge this treason to a queen
By ploughing up his countries with the sword!
Betwixt this land and that be never league;
Litora litoribus + contraria, fluctibus undas
Imprecor, arma armis; pugnent ipsique nepotes!
Live, false Æneas! truest Dido dies;
Sic, sic juvat ire sub umbras ‡.
[Throws herself into the flames.
ANNA. Oh, help, Iarbas! Dido in these flames Hath burnt herself! aye, me, unhappy me!
Re-enter IARBAS, running.
IAR. Cursed Iarbas, die to expiate
The grief that tires upon § thine inward soul !—
Dido, I come to thee.-Aye me, Æneas!
[Stabs himself, and dies. ANNA. What can my tears or cries prevail || me
+ Litora litoribus, &c.] Virgil, Æn. iv. 628. (The approved reading is, " pugnent ipsique nepotesque": see Heyne and Wagner ad locum.)
Sic, sic juvat ire sub umbras] Ibid. 660.
§ tires upon] Equivalent here to-preys upon (a term in falconry).
prevail] i. e. avail (in which sense the word was often used: so Wither,—
"Nor any seruice may preuaile me now."
Fidelia, Sig. v 6, ed. 1620).
Iarbas slain, Iarbas my dear love!
Oh, sweet Iarbas, Anna's sole delight!
What fatal Destiny envies me thus,
To see my sweet Iarbas slay himself?
But Anna now shall honour thee in death,
And mix her blood with thine; this shall I do,
That gods and men may pity this my death,
And rue our ends, senseless of life or breath:
Now, sweet Iarbas, stay! I come to thee.
[Stabs herself, and dies.
C. WHITTINGHAM, TOOKS COURT, CHANCERY LANE.
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