Is Carthage, and a Tyrian colony. Phoenician Dido rules the growing state,
Who fled from Tyre, to shun her brother's hate. Great were her wrongs, her story full of fate; Which I will sum in short. Sichaeus, known
For wealth, and brother to the Punic throne, Possess'd fair Dido's bed; and either heart
At once was wounded with an equal dart. Her father gave her, yet a spotless maid; Pygmalion then the Tyrian scepter sway'd: One who condemn'd divine and human laws.
Then strife ensued, and cursed gold the cause. The monarch, blinded with desire of wealth, With steel invades his brother's life by stealth; Before the sacred altar made him bleed,
And long from her conceal'd the cruel deed. Some tale, some new pretense, he daily coin'd, To soothe his sister, and delude her mind.
At length, in dead of night, the ghost appears
Of her unhappy lord: the specter stares,
And, with erected eyes, his bloody bosom bares. The cruel altars and his fate he tells,
And the dire secret of his house reveals,
Then warns the widow, with her household gods, To seek a refuge in remote abodes.
Last, to support her in so long a way,
He shows her where his hidden treasure lay. Admonish'd thus, and seiz'd with mortal fright, The queen provides companions of her flight: They meet, and all combine to leave the state, Who hate the tyrant, or who fear his hate.
They seize a fleet, which ready rigg'd they find;
Nor is Pygmalion's treasure left behind. The vessels, heavy laden, put to sea
With prosp'rous winds; a woman leads the way. I know not, if by stress of weather driv'n,
Or was their fatal course dispos'd by Heav'n; At last they landed, where from far your eyes May view the turrets of new Carthage rise;
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There bought a space of ground, which (Byrsa call'd, From the bull's hide) they first inclos'd, and wall'd. But whence are you? what country claims your birth? What seek you, strangers, on our Libyan earth?"
To whom, with sorrow streaming from his eyes, And deeply sighing, thus her son replies:
"Could you with patience hear, or I relate, O nymph, the tedious annals of our fate! Thro' such a train of woes if I should run, The day would sooner than the tale be done!
From ancient Troy, by force expell'd, we came-If you by chance have heard the Trojan name. On various seas by various tempests toss'd,
At length we landed on your Libyan coast. The good Aeneas am I call'd-a name,
While Fortune favor'd, not unknown to fame. My household gods, companions of my woes, With pious care I rescued from our foes.
To fruitful Italy my course was bent;
And from the King of Heav'n is my descent. With twice ten sail I cross'd the Phrygian sea; Fate and my mother goddess led my way. Scarce sev'n, the thin remainders of my fleet,
From storms preserv'd, within your harbor meet. Myself distress'd, an exile, and unknown, Debarr'd from Europe, and from Asia thrown,
In Libyan desarts wander thus alone." His tender parent could no longer bear; But, interposing, sought to soothe his care.
"Whoe'er you are-not unbelov'd by Heav'n, Since on our friendly shore your ships are driv'n-Have courage: to the gods permit the rest,
And to the queen expose your just request. Now take this earnest of success, for more: Your scatter'd fleet is join'd upon the shore;
The winds are chang'd, your friends from danger free; Or I renounce my skill in augury.
Twelve swans behold in beauteous order move, And stoop with closing pinions from above; Whom late the bird of Jove had driv'n along,
And thro' the clouds pursued the scatt'ring throng: Now, all united in a goodly team,
They skim the ground, and seek the quiet stream. As they, with joy returning, clap their wings,
And ride the circuit of the skies in rings; Not otherwise your ships, and ev'ry friend, Already hold the port, or with swift sails descend. No more advice is needful; but pursue
The path before you, and the town in view." Thus having said, she turn'd, and made appear Her neck refulgent, and dishevel'd hair,
Which, flowing from her shoulders, reach'd the ground.
And widely spread ambrosial scents around:
In length of train descends her sweeping gown;
And, by her graceful walk, the Queen of Love is known. The prince pursued the parting deity
With words like these: "Ah! whither do you fly?
Unkind and cruel! to deceive your son
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In borrow'd shapes, and his embrace to shun; Never to bless my sight, but thus unknown; And still to speak in accents not your own." Against the goddess these complaints he made, But took the path, and her commands obey'd. They march, obscure; for Venus kindly shrouds
With mists their persons, and involves in clouds, That, thus unseen, their passage none might stay, Or force to tell the causes of their way.
This part perform'd, the goddess flies sublime
To visit Paphos and her native clime; Where garlands, ever green and ever fair,
With vows are offer'd, and with solemn pray'r: A hundred altars in her temple smoke;
A thousand bleeding hearts her pow'r invoke. They climb the next ascent, and, looking down, Now at a nearer distance view the town.
The prince with wonder sees the stately tow'rs, Which late were huts and shepherds' homely bow'rs, The gates and streets; and hears, from ev'ry part,
The noise and busy concourse of the mart. The toiling Tyrians on each other call
To ply their labor: some extend the wall; Some build the citadel; the brawny throng Or dig, or push unwieldly stones along.
Some for their dwellings choose a spot of ground, Which, first design'd, with ditches they surround. Some laws ordain; and some attend the choice
Of holy senates, and elect by voice.
Here some design a mole, while others there
Lay deep foundations for a theater;
From marble quarries mighty columns hew, For ornaments of scenes, and future view. Such is their toil, and such their busy pains, As exercise the bees in flow'ry plains,
When winter past, and summer scarce begun, Invites them forth to labor in the sun;
Some lead their youth abroad, while some condense
Their liquid store, and some in cells dispense; Some at the gate stand ready to receive
The golden burthen, and their friends relieve; All with united force, combine to drive
The lazy drones from the laborious hive:
With envy stung, they view each other's deeds; The fragrant work with diligence proceeds. "Thrice happy you, whose walls already rise!" Aeneas said, and view'd, with lifted eyes,
Their lofty tow'rs; then, entiring at the gate, Conceal'd in clouds (prodigious to relate)
He mix'd, unmark'd, among the busy throng, Borne by the tide, and pass'd unseen along. Full in the center of the town there stood, Thick set with trees, a venerable wood.
The Tyrians, landing near this holy ground, And digging here, a prosp'rous omen found: From under earth a courser's head they drew, Their growth and future fortune to foreshew. This fated sign their foundress Juno gave,
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Of a soil fruitful, and a people brave. Sidonian Dido here with solemn state Did Juno's temple build, and consecrate,