Long ere he had done this speech she was glaring at him askance, rolling her eyes this way and that, and scanning the whole man with her silent glances, and thus she bursts forth all ablaze:—“No goddess was mother of yours, no 15 Dardanus the head of your line, perfidious wretch!—no, your parent was Caucasus, rugged and craggy, and Hyrcanian tigresses put their breasts to your lips. For why should I suppress aught? or for what worse evil hold myself in reserve? Did he groan when I wept? did he 20 move those hard eyes? did he yield and shed tears, or pity her that loved him? What first? what last? Now, neither Juno, queen of all, nor Jove, the almighty Father, eyes us with impartial regard. Nowhere is there aught to trust—nowhere. A shipwrecked beggar, I welcomed 25 him, and madly gave him a share of my realm; his lost fleet, his crews, I brought back from death’s door. Ah! Fury sets me on fire, and whirls me round! Now, prophet Apollo, now the Lycian oracles. Now the messenger of the gods, sent down by Jove himself, bears his grim bidding 30 through the air! Aye, of course, that is the employment of the powers above, those the cares that break their repose! I retain not your person, nor refute your talk. Go, chase Italy with the winds at your back; look for realms with the whole sea between you. I have hope that 35 on the rocks midway, if the gods are as powerful as they are good, you will drain the cup of punishment, with Dido’s name ever on your lips. I will follow you with murky fires when I am far away: and when cold death shall have parted soul and body, my shade shall haunt you everywhere. Yes, wretch, you shall suffer, I shall hear it—the news will reach me down among the dead.” So saying, she snaps short her speech, and flies with loathing 5 from the daylight, and breaks and rushes from his sight, leaving him hesitating, and fearing, and thinking of a thousand things to say. Her maidens support her, and carry her sinking frame into her marble chamber, and lay her on her bed. 10