Book 4
the lofty ships. Now floats the shining keel,
393
and oars they bring all leafy from the grove,
with oak half-hewn, so hurried was the flight.
Behold them how they haste—from every gate
forth-streaming!—just as when a heap of corn
is thronged with ants, who, knowing winter nigh,
refill their granaries; the long black line
runs o'er the levels, and conveys the spoil
in narrow pathway through the grass; a part
with straining and assiduous shoulder push
the kernels huge; a part array the file,
and whip the laggards on; their busy track
swarms quick and eager with unceasing toil.
O Dido, how thy suffering heart was wrung,
that spectacle to see! What sore lament
was thine, when from the towering citadel
the whole shore seemed alive, the sea itself
in turmoil with loud cries! Relentless Love,
to what mad courses may not mortal hearts
by thee be driven? Again her sorrow flies
to doleful plaint and supplication vain;
again her pride to tyrant Love bows down
lest, though resolved to die, she fail to prove
each hope of living: “O Anna, dost thou see
yon busy shore? From every side they come.
their canvas wooes the winds, and o'er each prow
the merry seamen hang their votive flowers.
Dear sister, since I did forebode this grief,
I shall be strong to bear it. One sole boon
my sorrow asks thee, Anna! Since of thee,
thee only, did that traitor make a friend,
and trusted thee with what he hid so deep —
the feelings of his heart; since thou alone
hast known what way, what hour the man would yield
to soft persuasion—therefore, sister, haste,
and humbly thus implore our haughty foe:
‘I was not with the Greeks what time they swore
at Aulis to cut off the seed of Troy;
I sent no ships to Ilium. Pray, have I
profaned Anchises' tomb, or vexed his shade?’
