140 Venus who saw how much the Latian pow'r; The promised empire in the Trojan line Alarm'd the goddess, felt her false design, But smiling said, "Who madly would refuse Such offers--and eternal warfare choose? 145 Would Fortune friendly on our project wait. But doubts within my mind arise, if Fate And Jove allow, that, with the sons of Troy, The Tyrian race one empire should enjoy, The people mingled, and their rites combin'd. 150 'Tis yours; his queen, to try the thund'rer's mind; Mine to obey"--"Be that my care," replied Jove's sister Queen--"Now hear what I provide: To-morrow, when the rising lamp of day Shoots o'er the humid orb its golden ray, 155 Unhappy Dido and her guest of Troy Together in the woods the chase enjoy, When ev'ry mind is on the sport intent, From gather'd clouds with livid light'ning rent, Of rain and pelting hail, a horrid show'r, 160 With peals of thunder on their heads I'll poor: All fly the storm, and in one dark retreat, The Trojan hero, and the Queen shall meet; There will I be; there if unchang'd your mind, Shall Hymen's chain at once the lovers bind". 165 The Queen of love perceiv'd her false intent, Smil'd at the smooth deceit, and bow'd assent. Aurora now her wat'ry couch forsakes, The chosen youth her earliest beam awakes, The bounding steed, the highly scented hound, 170 Nets, toils, and spears, the palace court surround. A favour'd band within the royal gate, The Queen who still delay'd, respectful wait. In purple trapping, burnish'd gold array'd, Proud on the foaming bit, her courser play'd; 175 She comes; the court her graceful steps surround; Her Tyrian vest, embroider'd fringes bound; Her quiver gold, with gold her hair enlac'd, A golden clasp her flowing mantle brac'd. Next with his Phrygian youth Iulus came 180 On wings of joy; but charms divine proclaim Cythereas offspring as he join'd the train. Thus when young Phoebus leaves the wintry plain, From Lycia and the Xanthian flood, retires To native Delos, and his sacred choirs; 185 Mingled in carols loud around his shrine, Cretans and Greeks, and painted Scythians join. Graceful on high the god o'er Cynthio glides, His wanton locks with pliant gold divides, With tender foliage crowns his radiant hair; 190 Wide sounds the dart bu spreading shoulders bear.