The Fourth Book of Virgil
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Unhappy Dido burns, and in her rage
Throughout the town she wand'reth up and down,
Like to the stricken hind with shaft in Crete
Throughout the woods, which chasing with his darts
Aloof, the shepherd smiteth at unwares
And leaves unwist in her the thirling head,
That through the groves and launds glides in her flight;
Amid whose side the mortal arrow sticks.
Aeneas now about the walls she leads,
The town prepared and Carthage wealth to show.
Off'ring to speak, amid her voice, she whists.
And when the day gan fail, new feasts she makes;
The Troys' travails to hear anew she lists,
Enragèd all, and stareth in his face
That tell the tale. And when they were all gone,
And the dim moon doth eft withhold the light,
And sliding stars provokèd unto sleep,
Alone she mourns within her palace void,
And set her down on her forsaken bed;
And absent him she hears, when he is gone,
And seeth eke. Oft in her lap she holds
Ascanius, trapped by his father's form,
So to beguile the love cannot be told.