As she is thus meditating, her sister is heard coming. Dido quickly conceals the sword beneath the draperies of the couch. She assumes an air of gayety, kissing her sister and drawing her to a seat. _Dido_ (478-498): I’ve found a way, my sister—give me joy—to bring Him back to me, or free me from the love of him. Hard by the confines of the Ocean in the west The Æthiop country lies, where mighty Atlas holds Upon his giant shoulders heaven’s vault, all set With stars. There dwells a priestess skilled in magic art, Of the Massylian race, and guardian of the shrine Of the Hesperides; her care, the dragon huge To which she offers honeydew and soothing herbs, The while she guards the precious boughs.—She claims the power At will to free the soul from sorrow with her charms, Or burden it with care; to stop the rapid stream, And backward roll the stars; the shades of darkness too Can she awake, and at her bidding shalt thou hear The rumbling earth beneath thy feet, and see the trees Descend the mountain slopes.—I swear it by the gods And thee, unwillingly I seek the magic art. Do thou within the palace rear a lofty pyre, And place upon its top the faithless hero’s arms Which in his flight he left within our halls, yea all That he has left, and then our wedding couch, my cause Of woe, my heart is set to banish every trace Of that perfidious one, and this the priestess bids. Anna assents to her plan and hurries away to execute it. Dido quickly takes the sword from its hiding-place and in tremulous haste hangs it again upon the wall. Barce enters. Dido turns, fearing detection, but seeing that the old nurse has not suspected her, she takes the cup in her trembling fingers and drains it. Curtain. ACT IV. SCENE 3 Dido’s chamber, night. Dido is seated in the moonlight that streams through the open casement. A band of maidens, clad in white, are singing softly to her. _Chorus of maidens_ (apropos of 522-528): [For music, see p. 81] ‘T is eve; ‘t is night; a holy quiet broods O’er the mute world—winds, waters are at peace; The beasts lie couch’d amid unstirring woods, The fishes slumber in the sounds and seas; No twitt’ring bird sings farewell from the trees. Hushed is the dragon’s cry, the lion’s roar; Beneath her glooms a glad oblivion frees The heart from care, its weary labors o’er, Carrying divine repose and sweetness to its core. [Selected from Tasso] They quietly withdraw. Dido is convulsed with weeping. _Dido_ (529-532; 534-552): But not for me, unhappy one, this night’s sweet calm; My cares redouble and o’erwhelm me with their flood. She leaves the window and paces the room.