To seek a Grecian stranger’s aid, and may he see The death of many whom he loves. And when at last A meager peace on doubtful terms he has secured, May he no pleasure find in kingdom or in life; But may he fall untimely, and unburied lie Upon some solitary strand. This, this I pray, And with my latest breath this final wish proclaim. Then, O my Tyrians, with a bitter hate pursue The whole accursèd race, and send this to my shade As welcome tribute. Let there be no amity Between our peoples. Rise thou from my bones, O some avenger, who with deadly sword and brand Shall scathe the Trojan exiles, now, in time to come, Whenever chance and strength shall favor. Be our shores To shores opposed, our waves to waves, and arms to arms, Eternal, deadly foes through all posterity. The servants rush in terrified during her passionate speech, and as she utters her curse, stand cowering before her. She dismisses with a gesture all except old Barce, who approaches her mistress. (634-640): Go, bring my sister Anna hither, dearest nurse: In flowing water bid her haste to bathe her limbs, And bring the rightful sacrifices of the flock. So let her come. And thou with pious fillets gird Thy temples; for to Stygian Jove my mind is fixed To carry on the magic sacrifice begun, And end my cares, and to devouring flames consign The relics of that cursed son of Dardanus. Barce totters away to do her bidding. Dido takes Æneas’ mantle and sword from the wall, and unsheathes the sword. (651-662): Sweet pledges of my lord, while fate and god allowed, Accept this soul of mine, and free me from my cares. For I have lived and run the course that Fortune set; And now my stately soul to Hades shall descend. A noble city have I built; my husband’s death Have I avenged, and on my brother’s head my wrath Inflicted. Happy, ah too happy, had the keels Of Troy ne’er touched my shores!—And shall I perish thus?— But let me perish. Thus, oh thus, ‘t is sweet to seek The land of shadows.—May the heartless Trojan see, As on he fares across the deep, my blazing pyre, And bear with him the gloomy omens of my death. She rushes forth from the chamber in her frenzy. The sailors’ chorus is repeated fainter and fainter. In a moment her death cry is heard. The servants rush in, and finding their mistress gone, hasten in the direction of her cry. Their lamentation is heard. They return bearing the body of the queen upon a couch. She has fainted, and upon her bosom the wound shows red and terrible. Anna enters, beside herself with grief. _Anna_, kneeling beside the couch, addresses Dido, who revives enough to smile upon her sister (676-685):