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O cheer us with propitious smile,
And send fair stars to guide our way!'
He said: his flashing sword outflew,
And shears the mooring ropes in two.
From man to man the flame flies fast:
They scour, they scud: and now the last
Has parted from the shore:
You cannot see the main for ships:
With emulous stroke the oar-blade dips,
And sweeps the water o'er.

Now, rising from Tithonus' bed,
The Dawn on earth her freshness shed:
The queen from off her turret height
Perceives the first dim streak of light,
The fleet careering on its way.
And void and sailless shore and bay;
She smites her breast, all snowy fair,
And rends her golden length of hair:
'Great Jove! and shall he go?' she cries,
'And leave our realm a wanderer's mock?
Quick, snatch your arms and chase the prize,
And drag the vessels from the dock!
Fetch flames, bring darts, ply oars! yet why?
What words are these, or where am I?
Why rave I thus? Those impious deeds—
Poor Dido! now your torn heart bleeds.
Too late! it should have bled that day
When at his feet your sceptre lay.
Lo here, the chief of stainless word,
Who takes his household gods on board,
Whose shoulders safe from sword and fire
Conveyed his venerable sire!
O had I rent him limb from limb
And cast him o'er the waves to swim,
His friends, his own Ascanius killed,
And with the child the father filled!