Page:Aeneid (Conington 1866).djvu/144

120 Yet firm it stands; high as its crown

Towers up to heaven, so deep goes down

Its root to worlds below:

So in this storm of prayers the chief

Thrills through and through with manly grief:

Unchanged his heart's resolves remain,

And falling tears are idle rain.

Then, maddened by her destiny,

Unhappy Dido prays to die:

'Tis weary to look up and see

The overarching sky.

It chanced, to fortify her heart

And steel her purpose to depart,

Before the altar as she stands

She sees a blackness gather o'er

The chalice mantling in her hands,

And wine—O horror!—turns to gore.

Not e'en into her sister's ear

She dared to breathe that tale of fear.

Beside, within her courts a fane

There stood, of marble's purest grain,

Where oft she to render vows:—

The chapel of her ancient spouse,

Wreathed with white wool and sacred boughs:

Thence, when the dark was over all,

There came a sighing and a call,

As in the dead man's tone:

And midnight's solitary bird,

Death-boding, from the roof was heard

To make its long, long moan.

And prophecies of bygone seers

Ring terror in her wildered ears.

Æneas with unpitying face

Still hounds her in a nightly chase: