University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

SCENE I.

A sea-port: ships ready for the embarkation of Æneas.
Æneas, Trojans.
Æn.
Unconquer'd friends, with me inur'd to bear
The rage of seas and skies, resume once more
Your wonted ardour. Lo! the destin'd hour
To stretch our sails, and plough the faithless waves.
Haste, brave companions, let the winds and storms
Invade the Trojan fleet. Our future perils
Shall raise our name to glory: think, the time,
The happy time will come to number o'er
In glad remembrance all our labours past.

SCENE II.

Enter Iarbas attended.
Iar.
And whither does this wandering hero now
Direct his arms and vessels? Does he bear
The war elsewhere? Or would he seek by flight
To escape Iarbas?

Æn.
Fate again prepares
New obstacles to stay me.

[aside.
Iar.
For a moment
Thy barks may yet remain at anchor here;
If thou hast courage, meet my arm—behold
I dare thee to the combat.

Æn.
I accept
Thy profferr'd challenge—Hold, my friends, I seek
No sword but mine to tame yon haughty boaster.
[to his followers.
I am prepar'd—what now employs thy thoughts?

[to Iar.
Iar.
I think thy death but little will suffice
To satiate my revenge.

Æn.
Far rather own
To stay me now demands thy noblest effort—
—To arms!

Iar.
To arms!

[fight: while they are engaged and Iarbas begins to give ground, the Moors come to his assistance and attack Æneas.]
Æn.
Come, all thy realm united!

Iar.
Defend thee, if thou canst—

Æn.
I fear thee not,
Barbarian!—
[the companions of Æneas come to his assistance and attack the Moors: a skirmish ensues, the Moors are driven off: Iarbas falls.]
—Thou art fallen beneath my arm,
Yield, or this weapon drinks thy blood.

Iar.
In vain
Thou seek'st to bend me—

Æn.
If thou wilt not ask
Life from thy victor—

Iar.
Never—use thy fortune.

Æn.
Die then—but hold awhile—it shall be so.
No—take thy life, nor deem thy empty pride
Shall change the tenour of my constant soul.

[Exit.
Iar.
I am conquer'd, not subdu'd—at least Iarbas
Shall never prove alone the cruel mark
Of fickle Fortune's rage: a monarch's fall
Shall drag a kingdom down to share his ruin.

[Exit.

SCENE III.

A bower between the city and the port.
Osmidas
alone.
The Moors already, to defend Iarbas,
Have reach'd these walls: behold the hour at hand
That must confirm my greatness. To betray
A thankless woman little I repent;
I punish her injustice thus, who never
Vouchsaf'd a recompense to faith like mine.

SCENE IV.

Enter Iarbas attended.
Iar.
Follow me, friends! now haste we to the palace.

[not seeing Osm.
Osm.
Hear me, great king, your warriors are prepar'd,
The time at length is come to avenge your wrongs.

Iar.
Away, my friends, Iarbas' fury now
Admits of no delay—

[going, not hearing Osm.
Osm.
Yet stay—

Iar.
What would'st thou?

Osm.
Forget not, king, that to Osmidas' truth
You owe some recompense for love reveng'd.

Iar.
O! 'tis most true—and mark, thou shall receive
Thy recompense ere I my wish'd revenge.

Osm.
Most generous monarch!

Iar.
Seize, disarm and bind him,
Then let him die.

[going.
Osm.
This sentence on Osmidas!
What rage unjust?—

Iar.
Such is the due reward
A traitor merits.

[Exit with a part of his followers; some remain to execute his orders on Osm.]

SCENE V.

Enter Æneas with Trojans.
Æn.
We at length are met;
Not one is wanting of our scatter'd friends.
No more delay—the skies serenely smile,
The winds, the waves invite us—haste, my friends,
Haste to the ships and seas.

[at the appearance of Æneas, the Moors fly and leave Osmidas bound to a tree.]
Osm.
Unconquer'd hero.

Æn.
What means Osmidas thus—

Osm.
Such is the state
Iarbas, cruel king—

Æn.
There needs no more.
Friends, set Osmidas free—he yet shall find
(Unworthy as he is) assistance where
He least could hope to find it; and may learn
New virtue from remorse.

[the Trojans unbind Osmidas.
Osm.
O yet permit me
In gratitude for mercy thus bestow'd,
Most gracious hero!—

[kneels.
Æn.
Rise, and quit this place.

Osm.
To such exalted virtue—

Æn.
If thou seek'st
To shew thy gratitude; henceforth, Osmidas,
Learn better to preserve thy faith unstain'd.

Osm.
Whene'er the streams in mountains bred,
Through verdant meadows backward led,
Shall seek again their ancient bed,
I'll cease thy praise to own.
The night shall shine with Phœbus' ray,
When I, O chief, no longer pay
My thanks for life, this venturous day,
Preserv'd by thee alone.

[Exit.

SCENE VI.

Enter Selene.
Æn.
Say, princess, whither dost thou haste?

Sel.
To thee,
O! hear me yet!

Æn.
If thou wouldst hope once more
To call back former love—those hopes are vain.

Sel.
What then remains for Dido?

Æn.
My departure
Will banish all her perils: while I stay,
My presence but incites her foes' resentment.
Iarbas woos her to partake his throne:
To him let Dido yield her hand, and peace
May once again be hers.

[going.
Sel.
Yet stay, Æneas—
If thus thou goest, not only Dido dies,
But, ah! Selene never can survive.

Æn.
What means Selene?

Sel.
From the day I first
Beheld Æneas, in my breast I smother'd
The growing passion, fearful to betray
A sister's trust; but now in death, I sue
To thee, O prince! if not for love, yet hear,
For pity hear, a wretched maid.

Æn.
Selene,
No more discourse to me of love, nor tell me
Of Dido's flame or thine. I am not now
The man I was; the lover's name is lost,
And all the warrior kindles in my soul:
My former self revives, and each that seeks
To oppose my glory in Æneas' foe.

[Exit.

SCENE VII.

Selene
alone.
To scorn my flame! deny me every hope,
This may be constancy for thee to boast;
But if thou canst forbid a gentle heart
To ease her torments with complaining love,
Ah! call not then such constancy thy virtue:
He knows no virtue who has lost compassion.

[Exit.

SCENE VIII.

The palace, with a view of the city of Carthage.
Dido
alone.
Farewell to every gleam of peace!
I feel, I feel my pangs increase.
What means, ye righteous powers! the flame
That shoots through all my vital frame?

SCENE IX.

Enter Osmidas.
Osm.
Have pity—mighty queen!

Did.
What wouldst thou, friend?

Osm.
Alas! that name but ill befits a traitor,
A foe to thee, Æneas, and thy love.

Did.
Ha! say'st thou?

Osm.
With the hope to reign in Carthage,
I offer'd to Iarbas treacherous aid,
Which he accepting till this hour employ'd;
And now, for my reward, the tyrant sought
To take my life, which great Æneas sav'd.

Did.
And hast thou, stain'd with crimes like these, presum'd
To come in Dido's presence?

Osm.
See, O queen!
[kneels.
A wretch, who neither hopes nor sues for pardon;
All, all I ask is instant judgment.

Did.
Rise:
To what art thou reduc'd, unhappy Dido!
What planet rul'd my birth! the faith of those
Whom most I trusted—

SCENE X.

Enter Selene.
Sel.
O! my dearest sister!
At length Æneas—

Did.
Has he fled from Carthage?

Sel.
No—but expect to see his sails ere long
Spread wide their canvas to forsake the shore.
Even now I saw him to the ready ships
With eager speed conduct his following friends.

Did.
Ungrateful! perjur'd!—Heaven's! a wretched exile,
A wandering mendicant!—What heart but his
Could ever boast such cruelty!—And thou,
Unkind Selene! to behold his flight,
Yet want the power to stay him—

Sel.
Every care
Of mine was fruitless.

Did.
Haste, Osmidas, haste,
One moment yet detain him.

Osm.
Let me fly
To execute your will.

[Exit.

SCENE XI.

Dido, Selene.
Sel.
Trust not too far—
Thou know'st not yet Osmidas.

Did.
Ah! too well.
Such is my cruel fate, I stand condemn'd
To seek his help whose treason has betray'd me.

Sel.
Thy hopes must centre in thyself alone.
Go—seek him—beg—implore—who knows th' event?
Thou may'st subdue him yet.

Did.
Shall Dido then
Descend to prayers and tears? Dido, whose courage
Forsook Sidonia's shores, to dare the rage
Of seas and storms, in search of other climes
And kingdoms yet unknown?—I still am she
That with new cities grac'd the Lybian coast;
That kept her state amidst surrounding snares,
Amidst alarms and perils—Think'st thou now
Her soul can yield to such ignoble stooping?

Sel.
Alas! forget your rank, or banish hope,
For love but ill agrees with majesty.

SCENE XII.

Enter Araspes.
Did.
Araspes in these walls?

[the flames begin to appear at a distance amongst the buildings.
Aras.
I come, in pity
Of your endanger'd state—the furious king
Destroys and burns the lofty domes of Carthage.
Behold, O queen! behold the flames afar
Driven by the raging wind—if you delay
A moment now to appease his vengeful anger,
One fatal day must end your life and empire.

Did.
Has Fortune then more evils yet in store
To add to what I feel?

Sel.
O! fatal day!

SCENE XIII.

Enter Osmidas.
Did.
Osmidas.

Osm.
All around the flames prevail.

Did.
I know it well—I ask thee of Æneas,
What hast thou gain'd?

Osm.
Æneas is departed.
Already now, at distance from the land,
He cuts the waves—I scarce arriv'd in time
To view his flying sails.

Did.
O! senseless Dido!
'Tis thou, thou art the accomplice of his flight,
Thou should'st have seiz'd him first—Return, Osmidas,
Fly swift to yonder shore, collect my fleets,
My arms, my warriors—O! pursue the traitor,
Burn, sink his vessels—bring him bound in chains,
Alive or dead, before me.

Osm.
Think'st thou now
Of vengeance when the threatening flames increase?

Did.
Then let us haste—O no—Osmidas, stay.
I know not where—my soul is all distraction.
Still art thou here?

Osm.
I fly to obey your will.

[Exit.

SCENE XIV.

Dido, Selene, Araspes.
Aras.
Think on your danger, Dido.

Sel.
Think, O! think
What means may yet preserve thee.

Did.
Do I still
Bear all these woes and live?—Go, dear Selene,
Thou, in my stead, provide, assist in all;
And, if thou lov'st, forsake not wretched Dido.

Sel.
Alas! my bosom's woes transcend thy own.

[Exit.

SCENE XV.

Dido, Araspes.
Aras.
Still do you here remain unterrified
To view the advancing flames?

Did.
All hope is lost!
And fear I know not—hope and fear in man
Are born together and together die.

Aras.
Fain would I save you yet—believe me, queen,
I shudder at your perils.

Did.
O! for pity
Leave me, Araspes, leave me to myself.

[Exit Aras.
Did.
My wretched fate shall one day prove the theme
Of fabling verse; my sufferings shall become
The mournful subject of the tragic scene.

SCENE XVI.

Enter Osmidas.
Osm.
All, all is lost!

Did.
So soon return'd?

Osm.
In vain
I from thy palace sought to reach the strand;
The threatening squadrons of the faithless Moor
Swarm in the streets of Carthage: midst the cries
And shouts of soldiers, to their impious rage
The virgins are expos'd, the fanes deserted;
No pity shewn to infancy or age.

Did.
And is there then no way for Dido left
To escape impending ruin?

[the flames begin to appear in the palace.

SCENE XVII.

Enter Selene.
Sel.
Fly, O queen!
Your guards are vanquish'd—no defence remains.
See, from the burning town the flames have reach'd
Your inmost palace—all the air is fill'd
With smoke and fiery sparkles—

Did.
Let us hence,
And seek elsewhere for succour.

Osm.
Ah! what succour?

Sel.
Where can it now be found?

Did.
O! coward souls!
Come, follow Dido—if your courage fails,
Then learn from me to die.

SCENE XVIII.

Enter Iarbas with guards.
Iar.
Stay.

Did.
Heavenly powers!
What do I see!

Iar.
Where goest thou thus dismay'd?
Perhaps to take the faithful Trojan's hand?
Go, haste thee then—behold the torches burn
To light thee to the nuptial bed.

[points to the flames.
Did.
I know it—
This is the moment of revenge for thee:
Let loose thy rage, since Heaven has now depriv'd me
Of all support.

Iar.
O no!—Æneas still
Defends his queen—with him thou art secure.

Did.
'Tis well—thou shalt be satisfied—to please thee
Shall I be wretched?—See me then alone,
Betray'd, forsaken, no Æneas here,
No friends, no kingdom!—Would'st thou have me stript
Of boasted power? See Dido then at length
Reduc'd to feeble tears—Does this suffice thee?
Or must I turn a suppliant? Be it so—
I beg Iarbas to relieve my sufferings,
And from Iarbas hope my welcome death.

Iar.
My rage is soften'd.

[aside.
Sel.
Mercy! righteous powers!

Osm.
O Gods! assist us yet.

Iar.
I am not, Dido,
The savage thou hast deem'd me—no, I feel
Compassion for thy fortunes—come—Iarbas
Forgives thee every past offence, and leads thee
His spouse, to share with him his bed and throne.

Did.
Shall I become the spouse of thee, thou tyrant!
Of thee, whose impious, cruel, treacherous heart
No faith regards, nor knows the social duties
That bless mankind, nor owns the laws of honour?
Were I so abject, just were all my sufferings:
My fortune has not sunk me yet so low.

Iar.
In such a state dar'st thou insult me thus?
—What ho! my faithful friends, go, spread the fires;
Be Carthage in one moment crush'd to ruins,
And not a trace remain of all the thousands
That trod so late her desolated streets.

[two guards go out.
Sel.
Have pity yet, and save us.

[to Dido.
Iar.
Now indeed,
Now may'st thou justly rave and call me tyrant.

[Exit, attended.

SCENE XIX.

Dido, Osmidas, Selene.
Osm.
Yield, Dido, to Iarbas.

Sel.
With thy own
Preserve our lives.

Did.
Even yet I would consent
To breathe the vital air, could I repay
My wrongs on false Æneas—first the cause
Of all I suffer—May the raging winds
And angry Gods at least complete my vengeance!
May lightning, thunder, storms and whirlwinds make
The seas his grave—or let him wander far
Forlorn and friendless—such his wretched fate,
That he, in bitterest pangs, shall envy mine!

Sel.
Ah! calm thy angry soul: I love him too,
Yet bear my griefs in silence.

Did.
Love Æneas?

Sel.
Alas! too true—but for thy sake—

Did.
Thou traitress!
The rival of my love?

Sel.
But though thy rival,
Thou hast no cause—

Did.
Fly hence!—avoid my sight,
Nor add new pangs to madness and despair.

Sel.
Unhappy queen! to what has fate reserv'd thee!

[Exit.

SCENE XX.

Dido, Osmidas.
Osm.
The flames increase and yet thou dost not fly.

Did.
Were other foes yet wanting to my ruin?
Left by Æneas, by Selene wrong'd;
Insulted by Iarbas, by Osmidas
Betray'd—What have I done, ye cruel Gods!
I never with unhallow'd victims stain'd
Your sacred altars; never fill'd the air
With hateful incense to provoke your wrath:
Why then should Heaven and Hell conspire against me?

Osm.
Ah! yet reflect, nor irritate the Gods.

Did.
What Gods?—Mere empty names! the dreams of madmen!
There are no Gods, or these are most unjust.

Osm.
Her impious raving freezes all my soul;
I leave her to her fate.

[Exit.
[some of the buildings fall in, and the flames are seen to increase more and more in the palace.
SCENE LAST.
Dido
alone.
What hast thou said,
Unhappy Dido?—To what rash extreme
Thy fury drives thee!—Heavens! increasing horrors
Surround me still—where'er I turn I see
Terror and death before me!—Hark! it cracks!
The palace shakes and threats a speedy fall!
Selene and Osmidas—all, alas!
Forsake me—shun me now—and not a friend,
A single friend to give me aid or death!
And shall the breast of Dido then confess
Such abject fear?—No: let me bravely perish,
And in my death may false Æneas find
A fatal omen for his future flight.
Fall Carthage from her deep foundation! burn
The regal dome, and may its ashes prove
The tomb of Dido and her wretched love!

[in speaking these last words Dido furiously throws herself amidst the burning ruins of the palace, and is immediately snatched from sight amidst the flames and thick smoke that break out upon her fall.