  And so the good Aeneas went away. It was not dawn, and yet the sleepless sea Felt as a mother, the still unborn day. The stars were brighter than they ought to be. A milky foam curled from the vessel’s breast Whose long blades lifted to each lifting crest. Happy were the sailors to be aboard once more, And the laughing sea answered to their shouts afar off shore. Dido the Queen Knew he was gone. No need to have seen From the casement withdrawn; No need to be told; Her heart had guessed By the aching unrest And empty breast— Empty and cold. Oh, plain her Maidens at their spinning, Love has end that had beginning. As the course was traced Aeneas paced, His thoughts uprising like a flock of birds; And one flew west, to the new the unknown nest, And one that was wing’d with flaming words— Something the Queen had uttered, tender—sweet,— Fluttered back and died—just at her feet. Ho! chants a Rower, straining at the sweep, Leave the landsman to his pillow, the sailor to the deep. All night the Queen In fever burned; A dream returned Long ago seen: A dream of ships, Of one who came Out of a flame And cried her name And kissed her lips. Somewhere in the dawn Someone’s singing: “Lo! what gifts love’s hands are bringing!” Jet-black, the palms like sculptured fountains loomed Above the lovers; one star blazed all night. Beyond the river was the sea that boomed. Their barge was lit with lightnings of delight. Of this, the good Aeneas too had dreamed While the unshaken towers of Ilium gleamed. Ah! cry the sailors, “whom we loved must wait. There’s no turning back from the open track to the gates of fate.” The cicadas drone; Desert winds blow As oarsmen row Their Queen alone Down the river. Alone, she cried Alone! to the tide. And the sea replied Forever! La, croon the Women, nimbly weaving, “Whose heart do we hear grieving?” Months bring all wanderings to a close. The fleet years flee; Aeneas wisely wed, Often, when wind and sea strike mighty blows, Wakening from dreams half ecstasy, half dread, That come upon him from another life, Touches the calm breast of his sleeping wife. Hum, the Night Watch mutters, leaning on his spear, “’Tis a strange world to be in and to have no fear.” The sea at last Brings pain to end. The desert vast Becomes her friend. Her people fear it: “The Queen,” they say, “Grows day by day Paler, but still gay— As a spirit.” Oh, they murmur, “Queen Dido goes away To where the dark river runs, sunless and gray.” |
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