Whole days with him she passes in delights, And wastes in luxury long winter nights, Forgetful of her fame and royal trust, Dissolv'd in ease, abandon'd to her lust.
The goddess widely spreads the loud report, And flies at length to King Hyarba's court.
When first possess'd with this unwelcome news Whom did he not of men and gods accuse?
This prince, from ravish'd Garamantis born, A hundred temples did with spoils adorn, In Ammon's honor, his celestial sire;A hundred altars fed with wakeful fire;
And, thro' his vast dominions, priests ordain'd, Whose watchful care these holy rites maintain'd.
The gates and columns were with garlands crown'd, And blood of victim beasts enrich'd the ground.
He, when he heard a fugitive could move The Tyrian princess, who disdain'd his love, His breast with fury burn'd, his eyes with fire, Mad with despair, impatient with desire;Then on the sacred altars pouring wine, He thus with pray'rs implor'd his sire divine:
"Great Jove! propitious to the Moorish race, Who feast on painted beds, with off'rings grace Thy temples, and adore thy pow'r divine With blood of victims, and with sparkling wine, Seest thou not this? or do we fear in vain Thy boasted thunder, and thy thoughtless reign?
Do thy broad hands the forky lightnings lance?
Thine are the bolts, or the blind work of chance?
A wand'ring woman builds, within our state, A little town, bought at an easy rate;She pays me homage, and my grants allow A narrow space of Libyan lands to plow;Yet, scorning me, by passion blindly led, Admits a banish'd Trojan to her bed!
And now this other Paris, with his train Of conquer'd cowards, must in Afric reign!
(Whom, what they are, their looks and garb confess, Their locks with oil perfum'd, their Lydian dress.)He takes the spoil, enjoys the princely dame;And I, rejected I, adore an empty name."
His vows, in haughty terms, he thus preferr'd, And held his altar's horns.The mighty Thund'rer heard;Then cast his eyes on Carthage, where he found The lustful pair in lawless pleasure drown'd, Lost in their loves, insensible of shame, And both forgetful of their better fame.
He calls Cyllenius, and the god attends, By whom his menacing command he sends:
"Go, mount the western winds, and cleave the sky;Then, with a swift descent, to Carthage fly:
There find the Trojan chief, who wastes his days In slothful not and inglorious ease, Nor minds the future city, giv'n by fate.
To him this message from my mouth relate:
'Not so fair Venus hop'd, when twice she won Thy life with pray'rs, nor promis'd such a son.
Hers was a hero, destin'd to command A martial race, and rule the Latian land, Who should his ancient line from Teucer draw, And on the conquer'd world impose the law.'
If glory cannot move a mind so mean, Nor future praise from fading pleasure wean, Yet why should he defraud his son of fame, And grudge the Romans their immortal name!
What are his vain designs! what hopes he more From his long ling'ring on a hostile shore, Regardless to redeem his honor lost, And for his race to gain th' Ausonian coast!
Bid him with speed the Tyrian court forsake;With this command the slumb'ring warrior wake."Hermes obeys; with golden pinions binds His flying feet, and mounts the western winds:
And, whether o'er the seas or earth he flies, With rapid force they bear him down the skies.
But first he grasps within his awful hand The mark of sov'reign pow'r, his magic wand;With this he draws the ghosts from hollow graves;With this he drives them down the Stygian waves;With this he seals in sleep the wakeful sight, And eyes, tho' clos'd in death, restores to light.
Thus arm'd, the god begins his airy race, And drives the racking clouds along the liquid space;Now sees the tops of Atlas, as he flies, Whose brawny back supports the starry skies;Atlas, whose head, with piny forests crown'd, Is beaten by the winds, with foggy vapors bound.
Snows hide his shoulders; from beneath his chin The founts of rolling streams their race begin;A beard of ice on his large breast depends.
Here, pois'd upon his wings, the god descends:
Then, rested thus, he from the tow'ring height Plung'd downward, with precipitated flight, Lights on the seas, and skims along the flood.
As waterfowl, who seek their fishy food, Less, and yet less, to distant prospect show;By turns they dance aloft, and dive below:
Like these, the steerage of his wings he plies, And near the surface of the water flies, Till, having pass'd the seas, and cross'd the sands, He clos'd his wings, and stoop'd on Libyan lands:
Where shepherds once were hous'd in homely sheds, Now tow'rs within the clouds advance their heads.
Arriving there, he found the Trojan prince New ramparts raising for the town's defense.
A purple scarf, with gold embroider'd o'er, (Queen Dido's gift,) about his waist he wore;A sword, with glitt'ring gems diversified, For ornament, not use, hung idly by his side.
Then thus, with winged words, the god began, Resuming his own shape: "Degenerate man, Thou woman's property, what mak'st thou here, These foreign walls and Tyrian tow'rs to rear, Forgetful of thy own? All-pow'rful Jove, Who sways the world below and heav'n above, Has sent me down with this severe command:
What means thy ling'ring in the Libyan land?
If glory cannot move a mind so mean, Nor future praise from flitting pleasure wean, Regard the fortunes of thy rising heir:
The promis'd crown let young Ascanius wear, To whom th' Ausonian scepter, and the state Of Rome's imperial name is ow'd by fate."So spoke the god; and, speaking, took his flight, Involv'd in clouds, and vanish'd out of sight.
The pious prince was seiz'd with sudden fear;Mute was his tongue, and upright stood his hair.
Revolving in his mind the stern command, He longs to fly, and loathes the charming land.
What should he say? or how should he begin?
What course, alas! remains to steer between Th' offended lover and the pow'rful queen?
This way and that he turns his anxious mind, And all expedients tries, and none can find.
