Juno, to whom my sorrows are committed, Hecate, whom the cross-roads of the cities Wail to by night, avenging Furies, hear me, Grant me divine protection, take my prayer. If he must come to harbor, then he must, If Jove ordains it, however vile he is, False, and unspeakable. If Jove ordains, The goal is fixed. So be it. Take my prayer. Let him be driven by arms and war, an exile, Let him be taken from his son Iulus, Let him beg for aid, let him see his people dying Unworthy deaths, let him accept surrender On unfair terms, let him never enjoy the kingdom, The hoped-for light, let him fall and die, untimely, Let him lie unburied on the sand. Oh, hear me, Hear the last prayer, poured out with my last blood! And you, O Tyrians, hate, and hate forever The Trojan stock. Offer my dust this homage. No love, no peace, between these nations, ever! Rise from my bones, O great unknown avenger, Hunt them with fire and sword, the Dardan settlers, Now, then, here, there, wherever strength is given. Shore against shore, wave against wave, and war, War after war, for all the generations.” She spoke, and turned her purpose to accomplish The quickest end to the life she hated. Briefly She spoke to Barce, Sychaeus’ nurse; her own Was dust and ashes in her native country:-- “Dear nurse, bring me my sister, tell her to hurry, Tell her to sprinkle her body with river water, To bring the sacrificial beast and offerings, And both of you cover your temples with holy fillets. I have a vow to keep; I have made beginning Of rites to Stygian Jove, to end my sorrows, To burn the litter of that Trojan leader.” Barce, with an old woman’s fuss and bustle, Went hurrying out of sight; but Dido, trembling, Wild with her project, the blood-shot eyeballs rolling, Pale at the death to come, and hectic color Burning the quivering cheeks, broke into the court, Mounted the pyre in madness, drew the sword, The Trojan gift, bestowed for no such purpose, And she saw the Trojan garments, and the bed She knew so well, and paused a little, weeping, Weeping, and thinking, and flung herself down on it, Uttering her last words:-- “Spoils that were sweet while gods and fate permitted, Receive my spirit, set me free from suffering. I have lived, I have run the course that fortune gave me, And now my shade, a great one, will be going Below the earth. I have built a noble city, I have seen my walls, I have avenged a husband, Punished a hostile brother. I have been Happy, I might have been too happy, only The Trojans made their landing.” She broke off, Pressed her face to the couch, cried:--“So, we shall die, Die unavenged; but let us die. So, so,-- I am glad to meet the darkness. Let his eyes Behold this fire across the sea, an omen Of my death going with him.”