Page:Aeneid (Conington 1866).djvu/127

In radiant beauty Dido stands,
A brimming goblet in her hands,
And pours it, studious of the rite,
Between the horns of heifer white,
Or with the Gods in view moves slow
Where tributary altars glow,
With rich oblations crowns the feast,
Then gazes on the slaughtered beast,
And in the heart's yet quivering strings
Spells out the lore of hidden things.
Alas! but seers are blind to day:
Can vows, can sacrifice allay
A frantic lover's smart?
The very marrow of her frame
Is turning all the while to flame,
The wound is at her heart.
Unhappy Dido! all ablaze
In frenzy through the town she strays:
E'en as a deer whom from afar
A swain in desultory war,
Where Cretan woods are thick,
Has pierced, as 'mid the trees she lies,
And all unknowing of his prize
Has left the dart to stick:
She wanders lawn and forest o'er,
While the fell shaft still drinks her gore.
Now through the city of her pride
She walks, Æneas at her side,
Displays the stores of Sidon's trade,
And stately homes already made:
Begins, but stops she knows not why,
And lets the imperfect utterance die.
Now, as the sunlight wears away,
She seeks the feast of yesterday,
Enquires once more of Troy's eclipse,
And hangs once more upon his lips.