All night long Aeneas Had pondered many a care, and with bright morning Resolved to reconnoiter; the winds have brought him To a new country: who lives in it, men Or only beasts? The fields appear untended. The fleet lies under a hollow cliff, surrounded By spikes of shade, and groves arch overhead, Ample concealment. Aeneas and Achates Went forth together, armed, down the trail in the forest, And there his mother met him, a girl, it seemed, From Thrace or Sparta, trim as any huntress Who rides her horses hard, or outspeeds rivers In her swift going. A bow hung over her shoulder, Her hair blew free, her knees were bare, her garments Tucked at the waist and knotted. As she saw them, “Ho there, young men,” she cried, “have you seen my sister Around here anywhere? She wears a quiver, And a spotted lynx-hide; maybe you have heard her Hunting the boar and shouting?” But her son Responded: “No; we have heard no sounds of hunting. We have seen no one here. But tell me, maiden, What name to call you by? In voice and feature You are, I think, no mortal; a goddess, surely,-- Nymph, or Apollo’s sister? Whoever you are, Be kind to us, lighten our trouble, tell us Under what sky, along what coast of the world, We wander, knowing neither land nor people, Driven by gales and billows. Many a victim We shall make ready for your altar.” Venus Answered: “I have no title to such honor. The Tyrian girls all wear these crimson leggings Lake mine, and carry quivers. Tyrian folk Live here; their city is Carthage; over the border Lies Libya, warlike people. Our queen, Dido, Came here from Tyre; she was fleeing from her brother,-- A long and complicated story; outrage,-- No matter; here it is, in brief. Her husband Was Sychaeus, wealthiest of all Phoenicians, At least in land, and Dido loved him dearly Since first her father gave her to him, virgin, And then unlucky bride. She had a brother, Pygmalion, king of Tyre, a monster, evil In wickedness, and madness came between Those men, the two of them. Pygmalion murdered Sychaeus at the altar; he was crazy And blind for gold and crafty; what did he care About his sister’s love? And he kept it quiet For a long time, kept telling Dido something To fool her with false comfort, but Sychaeus Came to her in a dream, a ghost, unburied, With the wounds in his breast, the story of the altar, The pale lips blurting out the secret horror, The crime in the dark of the household. _Flee_, he told her, _Forsake this land_; and he told her where the treasure Lay hidden in earth, uncounted gold and silver. Dido was moved to flight, secured companions, All those possessed by fear, all those whom hatred Had made relentless; ships were standing ready,