Page:Aeneid (Conington 1866).djvu/155

Rh Then Juno, pitying her long pain,

And all that agony of death,

Sent Iris down to part in twain

The clinging limbs and struggling breath.

For since she perished not by fate,

Nor fell by alien stroke deserved,

But rushed on death before her date,

By sudden spasm of frenzy nerved,

Not yet Proserpina had shred

The yellow ringlet from her head,

Nor stamped upon that pallid brow

The token of the powers below.

So down from Heaven fair Iris flies

On saffron wings impearled with dew,

That flash against the sunlit skies

Full many a varied hue;

Then stands at Dido's head, and cries:

'This lock to Dis I bear away

And free you from your load of clay:'

So shears the lock: the vital heats

Disperse, and breath in air retreats.