Ah me! I fear this Tyrian hospitality; For well I know their faithless hearts and lying tongues. And ever, mid the anxious watches of the night, The savage threats of Juno agitate my soul. If only this fair queen might feel the pulse of love For this my hero son, then would her purposes Of amity be fixed, and my anxiety Be set at rest.—But how accomplish my design? Suddenly her face is lighted with a new thought. She goes to Cupid and addresses him with insinuating gentleness. _Venus_, to Cupid (664-688): O son, my comrade and my only source of might, O thou, who scorn’st the giant-slaying darts of Jove, To thee I come and humbly pray thy fav’ring aid. How on the sea, from land to land, thy brother fares, Pursued by Juno’s unrelenting hate, is known To thee, and often hast thou mingled in my grief. Now Tyrian Dido holds him, and with fawning words Delays his course; and much do I distrust and fear The shelter which our envious rival Juno gives. For, in this pregnant crisis of affairs, be sure She will be active. Wherefore now my mind is bent With wiles to take the queen, ere Juno steel her heart, And hold her fast in passion’s net; that at the hest Of Juno she her present purpose may not change, But by a mighty love for this her Trojan guest She may be bound to work my will. Now hear thy part: Obedient to the summons of his doting sire, The youthful prince Ascanius goes to Dido’s town With gifts which Ocean and the flames of Troy have spared; Him, lapped in sleep, will I to far Cythera bear, Or hide him in my sacred fane on Ida’s top, Lest he should know what we intend, and thwart our plans. Do thou, if only for a night, assume the form Of young Ascanius, that, when the queen with joy To her embrace shall take thee, when amid the wine And feasting she shall hold thee in her arms and kiss Thy lips, thou mayst inflame her unsuspecting heart With the subtle fires of love. As she unfolds her plan, Cupid is filled with delight. He struts up and down, comically imitating Ascanius. When his mother has finished, he hastens to pick up his scattered arrows, puts them in his quiver, and struts off, looking back for his mother’s smile of approval. Curtain. ACT I. SCENE 3 [Illustration]