No More Learning

me who by these tears and thine own hand beseech thee, since naught
else, alas! have I kept mine own--by our union and the marriage rites
preparing; if I have done thee any grace, or aught of mine hath once
been sweet in thy sight,--pity our sinking house, and if there yet be
room for prayers, put off this purpose of thine. For thy sake Libyan
tribes and Nomad kings are hostile; my Tyrians are estranged; for thy
sake, thine, is mine honour perished, and the former fame, my one title
to the skies. How leavest thou me to die, O my guest? since to this the
name of husband is dwindled down. For what do I wait? till Pygmalion
overthrow his sister's city, or Gaetulian Iarbas lead me to captivity?
At least if before thy flight a child of thine had been clasped in my
arms,--if a tiny Aeneas were playing in my hall, whose face might yet
image thine,--I would not think myself ensnared and deserted utterly. '

She ended; he by counsel of Jove held his gaze unstirred, and kept his
distress hard down in his heart. At last he briefly answers:

'Never, O Queen, will I deny that thy goodness hath [335-368]gone high
as thy words can swell the reckoning; nor will my memory of Elissa be
ungracious while I remember myself, and breath sways this body. Little
will I say in this. I never hoped to slip away in stealthy flight; fancy
not that; nor did I ever hold out the marriage torch or enter thus into
alliance. Did fate allow me to guide my life by mine own government, and
calm my sorrows as I would, my first duty were to the Trojan city and
the dear remnant of my kindred; the high house of Priam should abide,
and my hand had set up Troy towers anew for a conquered people. But now
for broad Italy hath Apollo of Grynos bidden me steer, for Italy the
oracles of Lycia. Here is my desire; this is my native country.
If thy
Phoenician eyes are stayed on Carthage towers and thy Libyan city, what
wrong is it, I pray, that we Trojans find our rest on Ausonian land? We
too may seek a foreign realm unforbidden. In my sleep, often as the dank
shades of night veil the earth, often as the stars lift their fires, the
troubled phantom of my father Anchises comes in warning and dread; my
boy Ascanius, how I wrong one so dear in cheating him of an Hesperian
kingdom and destined fields. Now even the gods' interpreter, sent
straight from Jove--I call both to witness--hath borne down his commands
through the fleet air. Myself in broad daylight I saw the deity passing
within the walls, and these ears drank his utterance. Cease to madden me
and thyself alike with plaints. Not of my will do I follow Italy. . . . '

Long ere he ended she gazes on him askance, turning her eyes from side
to side and perusing him with silent glances; then thus wrathfully
speaks:

'No goddess was thy mother, nor Dardanus founder of thy line, traitor!
but rough Caucasus bore thee on his iron crags, and Hyrcanian tigresses
gave thee suck. For why do I conceal it? For what further outrage do I
wait? [369-400]Hath our weeping cost him a sigh, or a lowered glance?
Hath he broken into tears, or had pity on his lover?