Aeneid IV.397-503

The Trojans depart. Dido makes preparations.

Then the Trojans truly set to work and launched the tall ships

all along the shore. They floated the resinous keels,

and ready for flight, they brought leafy branches

and untrimmed trunks from the woods as oars.

You could see them hurrying and moving from every part

of the city: like ants that plunder a vast heap of grain

and store it in their nest, mindful of winter, a dark column

goes through the fields, and they carry their spoils

along a narrow track through the grass; some heave

with their shoulders against a large seed and push, others tighten

the ranks and punish delay, the whole path’s alive with work.

What were your feelings, Dido, at such sights, what sighs

did you give, watching the shore from the heights

of the citadel, everywhere alive, and seeing the whole

sea, before your eyes, confused with such cries!

Cruel Love, to what do you not drive the human heart:

to burst into tears once more, to see once more if he can

be compelled by prayers, to humbly submit to love,

lest she leave anything untried, dying in vain.

“Anna, you see them scurrying all round the shore:

they’ve come from everywhere: the canvas already invites

the breeze, and the sailors, delighted, have set garlands

on the sterns. If I was able to foresee this great grief,

sister, then I’ll be able to endure it too. Yet still do one thing

for me in my misery, Anna: since the deceiver cultivated

only you, even trusting you with his private thoughts:

and only you know the time to approach the man easily.

Go, sister, and speak humbly to my proud enemy:

I never took the oath with the Greeks at Aulis

to destroy the Trojan race, or sent a fleet to Pergama,

or disturbed the ashes and ghost of his father Anchises:

why does he pitilessly deny my words access to his hearing?

Where does he run to? Let him give his poor lover this last gift:

let him wait for an easy voyage and favourable winds.

I don’t beg now for our former tie, that he has betrayed,

nor that he give up his beautiful Latium and abandon

his kingdom: I ask for insubstantial time, peace and space

for my passion, while fate teaches my beaten spirit to grieve.

I beg for this last favour (pity your sister):

when he has granted it me, I’ll repay all by dying.”

Such are the prayers she made, and such are those

her unhappy sister carried and re-carried. But he was not

moved by tears, and listened to no words receptively:

Fate barred the way, and a god sealed the hero’s gentle hearing.

As when northerly blasts from the Alps blowing here and there

vie together to uproot an oak tree, tough with the strength of years:

there’s a creak, and the trunk quivers and the topmost leaves

strew the ground; but it clings to the rocks, and its roots

stretch as far down to Tartarus as its crown does towards

the heavens: so the hero was buffeted by endless pleas

from this side and that, and felt the pain in his noble heart.

His purpose remained fixed: tears fell uselessly.

Then the unhappy Dido, truly appalled by her fate,

prayed for death: she was weary of gazing at the vault of heaven.

And that she might complete her purpose, and relinquish the light

more readily, when she placed her offerings on the altar alight

with incense, she saw (terrible to speak of!) the holy water blacken,

and the wine she had poured change to vile blood.

She spoke of this vision to no one, not even her sister.

There was a marble shrine to her former husband in the palace

that she’d decked out, also, with marvellous beauty,

with snow-white fleeces and festive greenery:

from it she seemed to hear voices and her husband’s words

calling her, when dark night gripped the earth,

and the lonely owl on the roofs often grieved

with ill-omened cries, drawing out its long call in a lament;

and many a prophecy of the ancient seers terrified her

with its dreadful warning. Harsh Aeneas himself persecuted

her in her crazed sleep: always she was forsaken, alone with

herself, always she seemed to be travelling companionless on some

long journey, seeking her Tyrian people in a deserted landscape:

like Pentheus, deranged, seeing the Furies file past,

and twin suns and a twin Thebes revealed to view,

or like Agamemnon’s son Orestes driven across the stage when he

flees his mother’s ghost armed with firebrands and black snakes,

while the avenging Furies crouch on the threshold.¹

So that when, overcome by anguish, she harboured the madness

and determined on death, she debated with herself over the time

and the method, and going to her sorrowful sister with a face

that concealed her intent, calm, with hope on her brow, said:

“Sister, I’ve found a way (rejoice with your sister)

that will return him to me or free me from loving him.

Near the ends of the Ocean and where the sun sets

Ethiopia lies, the furthest of lands, where Atlas,

mightiest of all, turns the sky set with shining stars:

I’ve been told of a priestess of Massylian race there,

a keeper of the temple of the Hesperides, who gave

the dragon its food and guarded the holy branches of the tree,

scattering the honeydew and sleep-inducing poppies.²

With her incantations she promises to set free

what hearts she wishes, but bring cruel pain to others:

to stop the rivers flowing, and turn back the stars:

she wakes nocturnal Spirits: you’ll see earth yawn

under your feet and the ash trees march from the hills.

You and the gods and your sweet life are witness,

dear sister, that I arm myself with magic arts unwillingly.

Build a pyre, secretly, in an inner courtyard, open to the sky,

and place the weapons on it which that impious man left

hanging in my room, and the clothes, and the bridal bed

that undid me: I want to destroy all memories

of that wicked man, and the priestess commends it.”

Saying this she fell silent: at the same time a pallor spread

over her face. Anna did not yet realise that her sister

was disguising her own funeral with these strange rites,

her mind could not conceive of such intensity,

and she feared nothing more serious than when

Sychaeus died. So she prepared what was demanded.

---

tum vero Teucri incumbunt et litore celsas

deducunt toto navis. natat uncta carina,

frondentisque ferunt remos et robora silvis

infabricata fugae studio.                                                            400

migrantis cernas totaque ex urbe ruentis:

ac velut ingentem formicae farris acervum

cum populant hiemis memores tectoque reponunt,

it nigrum campis agmen praedamque per herbas

convectant calle angusto; pars grandia trudunt               405

obnixae frumenta umeris, pars agmina cogunt

castigantque moras, opere omnis semita fervet.

quis tibi tum, Dido, cernenti talia sensus,

quosve dabas gemitus, cum litora fervere late

prospiceres arce ex summa, totumque videres               410

misceri ante oculos tantis clamoribus aequor!

improbe Amor, quid non mortalia pectora cogis!

ire iterum in lacrimas, iterum temptare precando

cogitur et supplex animos summittere amori,

ne quid inexpertum frustra moritura relinquat.               415

'Anna, vides toto properari litore circum:

undique convenere; vocat iam carbasus auras,

puppibus et laeti nautae imposuere coronas.

hunc ego si potui tantum sperare dolorem,

et perferre, soror, potero. miserae hoc tamen unum               420

exsequere, Anna, mihi; solam nam perfidus ille

te colere, arcanos etiam tibi credere sensus;

sola viri mollis aditus et tempora noras.

i, soror, atque hostem supplex adfare superbum:

non ego cum Danais Troianam exscindere gentem               425

Aulide iuravi classemve ad Pergama misi,

nec patris Anchisae cinerem manisve revelli:

cur mea dicta negat duras demittere in auris?

quo ruit? extremum hoc miserae det munus amanti:

exspectet facilemque fugam ventosque ferentis.               430

non iam coniugium antiquum, quod prodidit, oro,

nec pulchro ut Latio careat regnumque relinquat:

tempus inane peto, requiem spatiumque furori,

dum mea me victam doceat fortuna dolere.

extremam hanc oro veniam (miserere sororis),               435

quam mihi cum dederit cumulatam morte remittam.'

Talibus orabat, talisque miserrima fletus

fertque refertque soror. sed nullis ille movetur

fletibus aut voces ullas tractabilis audit;

fata obstant placidasque viri deus obstruit auris.               440

ac velut annoso validam cum robore quercum

Alpini Boreae nunc hinc nunc flatibus illinc

eruere inter se certant; it stridor, et altae

consternunt terram concusso stipite frondes;

ipsa haeret scopulis et quantum vertice ad auras               445

aetherias, tantum radice in Tartara tendit:

haud secus adsiduis hinc atque hinc vocibus heros

tunditur, et magno persentit pectore curas;

mens immota manet, lacrimae volvuntur inanes.

Tum vero infelix fatis exterrita Dido                              450

mortem orat; taedet caeli convexa tueri.

quo magis inceptum peragat lucemque relinquat,

vidit, turicremis cum dona imponeret aris,

(horrendum dictu) latices nigrescere sacros

fusaque in obscenum se vertere vina cruorem;               455

hoc visum nulli, non ipsi effata sorori.

praeterea fuit in tectis de marmore templum

coniugis antiqui, miro quod honore colebat,

velleribus niveis et festa fronde revinctum:

hinc exaudiri voces et verba vocantis                              460

visa viri, nox cum terras obscura teneret,

solaque culminibus ferali carmine bubo

saepe queri et longas in fletum ducere voces;

multaque praeterea vatum praedicta priorum

terribili monitu horrificant. agit ipse furentem               465

in somnis ferus Aeneas, semperque relinqui

sola sibi, semper longam incomitata videtur

ire viam et Tyrios deserta quaerere terra,

Eumenidum veluti demens videt agmina Pentheus

et solem geminum et duplices se ostendere Thebas,               470

aut Agamemnonius scaenis agitatus Orestes,

armatam facibus matrem et serpentibus atris

cum fugit ultricesque sedent in limine Dirae.

Ergo ubi concepit furias evicta dolore

decrevitque mori, tempus secum ipsa modumque               475

exigit, et maestam dictis adgressa sororem

consilium vultu tegit ac spem fronte serenat:

'inveni, germana, viam (gratare sorori)

quae mihi reddat eum vel eo me solvat amantem.

Oceani finem iuxta solemque cadentem                              480

ultimus Aethiopum locus est, ubi maximus Atlas

axem umero torquet stellis ardentibus aptum:

hinc mihi Massylae gentis monstrata sacerdos,

Hesperidum templi custos, epulasque draconi

quae dabat et sacros servabat in arbore ramos,               485

spargens umida mella soporiferumque papaver.

haec se carminibus promittit solvere mentes

quas velit, ast aliis duras immittere curas,

sistere aquam fluviis et vertere sidera retro,

nocturnosque movet Manis: mugire videbis               490

sub pedibus terram et descendere montibus ornos.

testor, cara, deos et te, germana, tuumque

dulce caput, magicas invitam accingier artis.

tu secreta pyram tecto interiore sub auras

erige, et arma viri thalamo quae fixa reliquit               495

impius exuviasque omnis lectumque iugalem,

quo perii, super imponas: abolere nefandi

cuncta viri monimenta iuvat monstratque sacerdos.'

haec effata silet, pallor simul occupat ora.

non tamen Anna novis praetexere funera sacris               500

germanam credit, nec tantos mente furores

concipit aut graviora timet quam morte Sychaei.

ergo iussa parat.

---

Find the glossary for Aeneid Daily here; subscribe to receive daily posts.

1. Both references to Greek tragedies: Pentheus of Thebes is driven mad by Dionysus in the Bacchae, while Orestes is pursued by Furies for the crime of killing his mother in the Oresteia. The fourth book of the Aeneid has been compared in structure and content to a Greek tragedy itself.

2. The Hesperides, or “Western maidens,” mythologically cared for a garden of golden apples and the dragon that protected it.