care.

      In gath'ring numbers from the town they pour,
      Wind o'er the plain, and spread along the shore
500 Like ants, that forage for a future day, 500
      And to their stores the plunder'd wheat convey;
      In narrow columns move the sable train;
      These with main strength roll on the pond'rous grain;
      These press the march, and these the loit'rers drive;
505 They go, they come, their path seems all alive.

      Ill fated Queen! what pangs your bosom tore,
      What sighs you heav'd, as on the moving shore,
      The busy crews, assembling in your sight,
      With dashing waves, their horrid shouts unite.
510 Love, in our heart! how boundless is thy force!
      To tears again, to pray'r she has recourse;
      Love bends her soul each suppliant art to try,
      Each humble suit, ere she resolve, to die.
      «See, Anna, see, the crowded beach they hide,
515 See how they spread, they swarm from ev'ry side;
      Their open sails already court the wind,
      The stern with wreaths the joyful sailors bind.
      Oh had I thought such ills could e'er ensue
      Perhaps I should have learn'd to bear them too?
520 Now grant me, Anna, grant this one request!
      False man! his friendship you alone possest;
      To you his heart was open, none but you,
      The soft access, the pliant moment knew.
      Go sister then, my haughty foe intreat,
525 Tell him to Troy I sent no hostile fleet;
      Nor yet, at Aulis, was I one that swore,
      United vengeance to the Dardan shore.
      Have I disturb'd his father's sacred shade,
      That to be heard—not mere—in vain I've pray'd?
530 Tho' clos'd his ears to me, can be deny
      This last, this least request! where would he fly?
      Bid him remain till wintry storms subside,
      Till kinder breezes, smooth the ruffled tide.
535 The nuptial vow, which he so vainly swore,
      His plighted faith no longer I implore,
      Nor yet his Latian kingdom to forego:
      Some fruitless space, some breathing time for woe,
      'Till fate have thought the wretch subdu'd to grieve,
      Is all I beg—Obtain this last reprieve—
540 For pity gain it,—and the short delay
      With all her parting soul, will Dido pay».
      So pray'd the Queen, and o'er and o'er again,
      Pray'rs, sighs, and tears her sister urg'd in vain;
      Unmov'd he stands by tears, by pray'rs by sighs,
545 The fates oppose, the God his ear denies.
      Thus from the rock, the patient work of years,
      His knotted strength an oak majestic rears,
      When Alpine storms on ev'ry side contend,
      Now here, now there his rooted mass to bend,
550 Each labour'd limb resounds, and from his head
      The rustling spoils in heaps the ground o'erspread.
      He grasps the rock unmov'd, and proudly shoots
      As high to heav'n his head, as down to hell his roots.
      With storms as fierce the lab'ring Hero torn,
555 Now here now there by swelling passion borne
      Sunk in his soul a mighty load of woe,
      His mind unshook—tears unavailing flow.

      'Twas then that Dido, sinking with her fate,
      In all its horror view'd her wretched state.
560 The light of heav'n grew odious to her sight,
      She call'd on Death, and each religions rite
      With horrid omens urg'd the dark design:
      The milky juice flowed black upon the shrine;
      And dire to tell, the sacred wine she bore
565 Fell from the cup in fleaks of clotted gore.
      These horrid sighs, to her alone reveal'd,
      Ev'n from her sister's friendship she conceal'd.
      But more—a temple in the palace stood
      With snow-white fleeces hang, with garlands strew'd,
570 Where to her former husband's honor'd shade
      Assiduous worship, daily vows she paid:
      There, when the night, unroll'd her sable pall
      She hears his voice in doleful murmurs call,
      While from the roof the fated owl alone
575 In deep complaint prolongs the funeral tone.
      Beside, what ills had been foretold before,
      Now on her mind, a dread impression bore.
      Her aching eyes did broken slumbers close,
      Æneas like a vengeful fury rose:
580 Alone—forsaken—distant from her home,
      Driv'n o'er the desert—she appears to roam
      With sinking steps,—abandoned—left behind,
      Thro' burning sands her native Tyre to find.
      So mad Pentheus saw two suns arise,
585 Two Thebes appear before his haggard eyes.
      So wild Orestes flies his mother's rage,
      With snakes, with torches arm'd across the stage,
      To 'scape her vengeance whereso'er he goes,
      Pale furies meet him and his flight oppose.

590 Now when despair had settled on her mind,
      What way to meet the death that she design'd
      Fill'd all her thoughts. Her sister she addrest
      While treach'rous smiles beguil'd her soul distrest.
      «Rejoice, my friend, while I the means impart,
595 To gain his love or drive him from my heart:
      A place there is where Æthiopia ends,
      And into ocean's lap the sun descends;
      Where Atlas on his spreading shoulders bears,
      And turns the shining glory of the spheres.
600 Thence comes a priestess, in Massyla rear'd,
      Who for the watchful Dragon food prepar'd;
      Th' Hesperian temple 'twas her charge to keep,
      The drowsy flow'rs in liquid honey steep,
      And watch the golden branches on the tree.
605 She, at her will, the lab'ring mind can free,
      With mystic verse,—or deadly cares enforce,
      Repell the stars—arrest the rivers course;
      Raise the dead shade, the trembling mountain rend,
      And make the wood with horrid sound descend.
610 By heav'n and thee, thou nearest to my heart,
      Against my will I fly to magic art.
      But in the inmost court, in open air,
      A lofty pile thou, dearest friend, prepare,
      There let his arms, my nuptial couch that grac'd,
615 There ev'ry thing he faithless left be plac'd;
      And fast that bed—sad witness of my fall;
      The priestess orders to destroy them all.
      Of the sad deed be left no conscious trace—»
      She ceas'd and smil'd,—but death was in her face.
620 Anna obey'd; prepar'd the pyre; her mind
      Conceiv'd no fear of all the Queen design'd,
      Nor with such deep despair, her spirit fraught,
      Nor worse than when Sicheus fell she thought.
      In open air, but in a court inclos'd,
625 Rich pine and cloven oak the pyre compos'd;
      The Queen herself the lofty sides around,
      With flow'rs of death, funereal fillets bound;
      Then o'er the pyre, upon the nuptial bed,
      His