 | Dido |  |
SCENE XIX.
Æneasalone.
And shall I make thee then such base return,
For truth like thine? Such love, such gifts unequall'd?
No—ere my heart consents to leave thee thus,
First perish Italy and all the world!
Let blank oblivion hide my fame for ever,
And Troy once more be sunk in smouldering ashes!
—Alas! what have I said!—O mighty father!
Forgive the ravings of a lover's folly—
'Twas not Æneas spoke—O death to glory!—
Haste, let us go—Must then the insulting Moor
Infold her beauties in his arms?—O! never!—
But shall the son meantime forgetting all
His filial ties be perjur'd to his sire?
258
Love, jealousy, a father's angry shade,
And Heaven's high mandates rend my warring soul.
Whether my ships are moor'd at land,
Or sails are stretch'd in air,
Cruel and false on either hand,
A like reproach I bear.
Or sails are stretch'd in air,
Cruel and false on either hand,
A like reproach I bear.
Meanwhile with dreadful doubts oppress'd,
That harrow deep my labouring breast,
I still my flight delay.
I dare not quit, nor keep the shore,
But, ah! with equal pangs deplore
My parting or my stay!
That harrow deep my labouring breast,
I still my flight delay.
I dare not quit, nor keep the shore,
But, ah! with equal pangs deplore
My parting or my stay!
[Exit.
| Dido | |