The sight left Æneas dumb and aghast indeed; his hair stood shudderingly erect; his speech clave to his throat. He burns to take flight and leave the land of pleasure, as his ears ring with the thunder of Heaven’s imperious warning. What—ah! what is he to do? with what address 35 can he now dare to approach the impassioned queen? what first advances can he employ? And thus he despatches his rapid thought hither and thither hurrying it east and west, and sweeping every corner of the field. So balancing, at last he thought this judgment the best. He calls Mnestheus and Sergestus and brave Serestus; bids them quietly get ready the fleet, muster the crews on the shore, with their arms in their hands, hiding the reason 5 for so sudden a change. Meantime he, while Dido, kindest of friends, is in ignorance, deeming love’s chain too strong to be snapped, will feel his way, and find what are the happiest moments for speech, what the right hold to take of circumstance. At once all gladly obey his command, 10 and are busy on the tasks enjoined. But the queen (who can cheat a lover’s senses?) scented the plot, and caught the first sound of the coming stir, alive to fear in the midst of safety. Fame, as before, the same baleful fiend, whispered in her frenzied ear that the fleet 15 was being equipped and the voyage got ready. She storms in impotence of soul, and, all on fire, goes raving through the city, like a Mænad[177] starting up at the rattle of the sacred emblems, when the triennial orgies lash her with the cry of Bacchus, and Cithæron’s yell calls her into 20 the night. At length she thus bespeaks Æneas, unaddressed by him:—