“E’en as a deer whom from afar A swain, in desultory war, Where Cretan woods are thick, Has pierced, as ’mid the trees she lies, And, all unknowing of his prize, Has left the dart to stick: She wanders lawn and forest o’er, While the fell shaft still drinks her gore.[25] Now through the city of her pride She walks, Æneas at her side, Displays the stores of Sidon’s trade, And stately homes already made: Begins, but stops she knows not why, And lets the imperfect utterance die. Now, as the sunlight wears away, She seeks the feast of yesterday, Inquires once more of Troy’s eclipse, And hangs once more upon his lips; Then, when the guests have gone their ways, And the dim moon withdraws her rays, And setting stars to slumber call, Alone she mourns in that lone hall, Clasps the dear couch where late he lay, Beholds him, hears him far away; Or keeps Ascanius on her knees, And in the son the father sees, Might she but steal one peaceful hour From love’s ungovernable power. No more the growing towers arise, No more in martial exercise The youth engage, make strong the fort, Or shape the basin to a port.” The powers of Olympus here come again upon the scene. Juno sees, not without a secret satisfaction, the prospect of an entanglement between Æneas and Dido, which may detain these hated Trojans in Africa, and so prevent their settlement and dominion in Italy. So Carthage, and not the Rome of the future, may yet be the mistress of the world. She addresses herself at once to the goddess of love--not without a sneer at the success of her snares in poor Dido’s case; a sorry triumph it is indeed--two divinities pitted against a weak woman! But come--suppose in this matter they agree to act in concert; let there be a union between the two nations, and let Carthage be the seat of their joint power; its citizens shall pay equal honours to the queen of heaven and the queen of love. Venus understands perfectly well that Juno’s motive is at any cost to prevent the foundation of Rome; but, having a clearer vision (we must presume) than her great rival of the probable results, she agrees to the terms. There is to be a hunting-party on the morrow, and Juno will take care that opportunity shall be given for the furtherance of Dido’s passion. The royal hunt is again a striking picture, almost mediæval in its rich colouring:--