LI. Stirred by his presence, at their chief's command, The Trojan mariners, with might and main, Bend to the work. Along the shelving strand They launch tall ships that long had idle lain. The tarred keel joys the waters to regain. Timbers unshaped and many a green-leaved oar They fetch from out the forest, glad and fain To speed their flight, and hurrying to the shore Forth from the town-gates fast the mustering Trojans pour. LII. As ants that, mindful of the cold to come, Lay waste a mighty heap of garnered grain, And store the golden treasure in their home: Back through the grass, with plunder, o'er the plain In narrow column troops the sable train: Their tiny shoulders heave, with restless moil, The cumbrous atomies; these scourge amain The loiterers in the rear, and guard the spoil. Hot fares the busy work; the pathway glows with toil. LIII. What, hapless Dido, were thy feelings then? What groans were thine, from out thy tower to view The ships prepared, the shores astir with men, The turmoil'd deep, the shouting of each crew! O tyrant love, so potent to subdue! Again, perforce, she weeps for him; again She stoops to try persuasion, and to sue, And yields, a suppliant, to her love's sweet pain, Lest aught remain untried, and Dido die in vain. LIV. "Look yonder, look, dear Anna! all around They crowd the shore their canvas wooes the wind! Behold the poops with festal garlands crown'd. If I could bear this prospect, I shall find Strength still to suffer, and a soul resign'd. One boon I ask--O pity my distress-- For thee alone he tells his inmost mind, To thee alone unperjur'd; thou can'st guess The means of soft approach, the seasons of address; LV. "Go, sister, meekly tell the haughty foe, Not I at Aulis with the Greeks did swear To smite the Trojans and their towers o'erthrow, Nor sought his father's ashes to uptear. Whom shuns he? wherefore would he spurn my prayer? Beg him, in pity of poor love, to stay Till flight is easy, and the winds breathe fair. Not now for wedlock's broken vows I pray, Nor bid him lose for me fair Latium and his sway. LVI. "I ask but time--a respite and reprieve-- A little truce, my passion to allay, Till fortune teach my baffled love to grieve. Grant, sister, this, the latest grace I pray, And Death with interest shall the debt repay." She spake; sad Anna to the Dardan bears Her piteous plea. But Fate hath barred the way: Deaf stands AEneas to her prayers and tears: Jove, unrelenting Jove, hath stopped his gentle ears.