Æn. IV.
ÆNEIS.
423
Then, when they part, when Phœbe's paler Light
Withdraws, and falling Stars to Sleep invite, 116
She last remains, when ev'ry Guest is gone,
Sits on the Bed he press'd, and sighs alone;
Absent, her absent Heroe sees and hears;
Or in her Bosom young Ascanius bears: 120
And seeks the Father's Image in the Child,
If Love by Likeness might be so beguil'd.
Mean time the rising Tow'rs are at a stand:
No Labours exercise the youthful Band:
Nor use of Arts, nor Toils of Arms they know; 125
The Mole is left unfinish'd to the Foe.
The Mounds, the Works, the Walls, neglected lye,
Short of their promis'd heigth that seem'd to threat the Sky.
But when Imperial Juno, from above,
Saw Dido fetter'd in the Chains of Love; 130
Hot with the Venom, which her Veins inflam'd,
And by no sense of Shame to be reclaim'd:
With soothing Words to Venus she begun.
High Praises, endless Honours you have won,
And mighty Trophies with your worthy Son: 135
Two Gods a silly Woman have undone.
Nor am I ignorant, you both suspect
This rising City, which my Hands erect:
But shall Cœlestial Discord never cease?
Tis better ended in a lasting Peace. 140
You stand possess'd of all your Soul desir'd;
Poor Dido with consuming Love is fir'd:
Withdraws, and falling Stars to Sleep invite, 116
She last remains, when ev'ry Guest is gone,
Sits on the Bed he press'd, and sighs alone;
Absent, her absent Heroe sees and hears;
Or in her Bosom young Ascanius bears: 120
And seeks the Father's Image in the Child,
If Love by Likeness might be so beguil'd.
Mean time the rising Tow'rs are at a stand:
No Labours exercise the youthful Band:
Nor use of Arts, nor Toils of Arms they know; 125
The Mole is left unfinish'd to the Foe.
The Mounds, the Works, the Walls, neglected lye,
Short of their promis'd heigth that seem'd to threat the Sky.
But when Imperial Juno, from above,
Saw Dido fetter'd in the Chains of Love; 130
Hot with the Venom, which her Veins inflam'd,
And by no sense of Shame to be reclaim'd:
With soothing Words to Venus she begun.
High Praises, endless Honours you have won,
And mighty Trophies with your worthy Son: 135
Two Gods a silly Woman have undone.
Nor am I ignorant, you both suspect
This rising City, which my Hands erect:
But shall Cœlestial Discord never cease?
Tis better ended in a lasting Peace. 140
You stand possess'd of all your Soul desir'd;
Poor Dido with consuming Love is fir'd:
