Aeneas now(for love in his paternal heart spoke loudand gave no rest) bade swift Achates runto tell Ascanius all, and from the shipto guide him upward to the town,—for nowthe father's whole heart for Ascanius yearned.And gifts he bade them bring, which had been savedin Ilium's fall: a richly broidered cloakheavy with golden emblems; and a veilby leaves of saffron lilies bordered round,which Argive Helen o'er her beauty threw,her mother Leda's gift most wonderful,and which to Troy she bore, when flying farin lawless wedlock from Mycenae's towers;a sceptre, too, once fair Ilione's,eldest of Priam's daughters; and round pearlsstrung in a necklace, and a double crownof jewels set in gold. These gifts to find,Achates to the tall ships sped away. But Cytherea in her heart revolvednew wiles, new schemes: how Cupid should transformhis countenance, and, coming in the guiseof sweet Ascanius, still more inflamethe amorous Queen with gifts, and deeply fusethrough all her yielding frame his fatal fire.Sooth, Venus feared the many-languaged guilewhich Tyrians use; fierce Juno's hate she feared,and falling night renewed her sleepless care.Therefore to Love, the light-winged god, she said:“Sweet son, of whom my sovereignty and poweralone are given! O son, whose smile may scornthe shafts of Jove whereby the Titans fell,to thee I fly, and humbly here implorethy help divine. Behold, from land to landAeneas, thine own brother, voyages onstorm-driven, by Juno's causeless enmity.Thou knowest it well, and oft hast sighed to seemy sighs and tears. Dido the Tyrian nowdetains him with soft speeches; and I fearsuch courtesy from Juno means us ill;she is not one who, when the hour is ripe,bids action pause. I therefore now intendthe Tyrian Queen to snare, and siege her breastwith our invading fire, before some godshall change her mood. But let her bosom burnwith love of my Aeneas not less than mine.This thou canst bring to pass. I pray thee hearthe plan I counsel. At his father's callAscanius, heir of kings, makes haste to climbto yon Sidonian citadel; my graceprotects him, and he bears gifts which were savedfrom hazard of the sea and burning Troy.Him lapped in slumber on Cythera's hill,or in Idalia's deep and hallowing shade,myself will hide, lest haply he should learnour stratagem, and burst in, foiling all.Wear thou his shape for one brief night thyself,and let thy boyhood feign another boy'sfamiliar countenance; when Dido there,beside the royal feast and flowing wine,all smiles and joy, shall clasp thee to her breastwhile she caresses thee, and her sweet lipstouch close with thine, then let thy secret firebreathe o'er her heart, to poison and betray.”The love-god to his mother's dear behestgave prompt assent. He put his pinions byand tripped it like Iulus, light of heart.But Venus o'er Ascanius' body poureda perfect sleep, and, to her heavenly breastenfolding him, far, far away upboreto fair Idalia's grove, where fragrant budsof softly-petalled marjoram embowerin pleasurable shade. Cupid straightwayobeyed his mother's word and bore the gifts,each worthy of a king, as offeringsto greet the Tyrian throne; and as he wenthe clasped Achates' friendly hand, and smiled.Father Aeneas now, and all his bandof Trojan chivalry, at social feast,on lofty purple-pillowed couches lie;deft slaves fresh water on their fingers pour,and from reed-woven basketry renewthe plenteous bread, or bring smooth naperyof softest weave; fifty handmaidens serve,whose task it is to range in order fairthe varied banquet, or at altars brightthrow balm and incense on the sacred fires.A hundred more serve with an equal bandof beauteous pages, whose obedient skillpiles high the generous board and fills the bowl.The Tyrians also to the festal hallcome thronging, and receive their honor due,each on his painted couch; with wondering eyesAeneas' gifts they view, and wondering more,mark young Iulus' radiant brows divine,his guileful words, the golden pall he bears,and broidered veil with saffron lilies bound.The Tyrian Queen ill-starred, already doomedto her approaching woe, scanned ardently,with kindling cheek and never-sated eyes,the precious gifts and wonder-gifted boy.He round Aeneas' neck his arms entwined,fed the deep yearning of his seeming sire,then sought the Queen's embrace; her eyes, her soulclave to him as she strained him to her breast.For Dido knew not in that fateful hourhow great a god betrayed her. He began,remembering his mother (she who borethe lovely Acidalian Graces three),to make the dear name of Sichaeus fade,and with new life, new love, to re-possessher Iong-since slumbering bosom's Iost desire.
When the main feast is over, they replacethe banquet with huge bowls, and crown the winewith ivy-leaf and rose. Loud rings the roofwith echoing voices; from the gilded vaultfar-blazing cressets swing, or torches brightdrive the dark night away. The Queen herselfcalled for her golden chalice studded roundwith jewels, and o'er-brimming it with wineas Belus and his proud successors use,commanded silence, and this utterance made:“Great Jove, of whom are hospitable lawsfor stranger-guest, may this auspicious daybless both our Tyrians and the wanderersfrom Trojan shore. May our posteritykeep this remembrance! Let kind Juno smile,and Bacchus, Iord of mirth, attend us here!And, O ye Tyrians, come one and all,and with well-omened words our welcome share!”So saying, she outpoured the sacred dropdue to the gods, and lightly from the rimsipped the first taste, then unto Bitias gavewith urgent cheer; he seized it, nothing loth,quaffed deep and long the foaming, golden bowl,then passed to others. On a gilded Iyrethe flowing-haired Iopas woke a songtaught him by famous Atlas: of the moonhe sang, the wanderer, and what the sun'svast labors be; then would his music tellwhence man and beast were born, and whence were bredclouds, lightnings, and Arcturus' stormful sign,the Hyades, rain-stars, and nigh the Polethe great and lesser Wain; for well he knewwhy colder suns make haste to quench their orbin ocean-stream, and wintry nights be slow.Loudly the Tyrians their minstrel praised,and Troy gave prompt applause. Dido the whilewith varying talk prolonged the fateful night,and drank both long and deep of love and wine.Now many a tale of Priam would she crave,of Hector many; or what radiant armsAurora's son did wear; what were those steedsof Diomed, or what the stature seemedof great Achilles. “Come, illustrious guest,begin the tale,” she said, “begin and tellthe perfidy of Greece, thy people's fall,and all thy wanderings. For now,—Ah, me!Seven times the summer's burning stars have seenthee wandering far o'er alien lands and seas.”