So she fanned The flame of the burning heart; the doubtful mind Was given hope, and the sense of guilt was lessened. And first of all they go to shrine and altar Imploring peace; they sacrifice to Ceres, Giver of law, to Bacchus, to Apollo, And most of all to Juno, in whose keeping The bonds of marriage rest. In all her beauty Dido lifts up the goblet, pours libation Between the horns of a white heifer, slowly, Or, slowly, moves to the rich altars, noting The proper gifts to mark the day, or studies The sacrificial entrails for the omens. Alas, poor blind interpreters! What woman In love is helped by offerings or altars? Soft fire consumes the marrow-bones, the silent Wound grows, deep in the heart. Unhappy Dido burns, and wanders, burning, All up and down the city, the way a deer With a hunter’s careless arrow in her flank Ranges the uplands, with the shaft still clinging To the hurt side. She takes Aeneas with her All through the town, displays the wealth of Sidon, Buildings projected; she starts to speak, and falters, And at the end of the day renews the banquet, Is wild to hear the story, over and over, Hangs on each word, until the late moon, sinking, Sends them all home. The stars die out, but Dido Lies brooding in the empty hall, alone, Abandoned on a lonely couch. She hears him, Sees him, or sees and hears him in Iulus, Fondles the boy, as if that ruse might fool her, Deceived by his resemblance to his father. The towers no longer rise, the youth are slack In drill for arms, the cranes and derricks rusting, Walls halt halfway to heaven. And Juno saw it, The queen held fast by this disease, this passion Which made her good name meaningless. In anger She rushed to Venus:--“Wonderful!--the trophies, The praise, you and that boy of yours are winning! Two gods outwit one woman--splendid, splendid! What glory for Olympus! I know you fear me, Fear Carthage, and suspect us. To what purpose? What good does all this do? Is there no limit? Would we not both be better off, to sanction A bond of peace forever, a formal marriage? You have your dearest wish; Dido is burning With love, infected to her very marrow. Let us--why not?--conspire to rule one people On equal terms; let her serve a Trojan husband; Let her yield her Tyrian people as her dowry.”