ACT IV. SCENE 3

Dido’s chamber, night. Dido is seated in the moonlight that streams through the open casement. A band of maidens, clad in white, are singing softly to her.

_Chorus of maidens_ (apropos of 522-528):

[For music, see p. 81]

‘T is eve; ‘t is night; a holy quiet broods O’er the mute world—winds, waters are at peace; The beasts lie couch’d amid unstirring woods, The fishes slumber in the sounds and seas; No twitt’ring bird sings farewell from the trees. Hushed is the dragon’s cry, the lion’s roar; Beneath her glooms a glad oblivion frees The heart from care, its weary labors o’er, Carrying divine repose and sweetness to its core.

[Selected from Tasso]

They quietly withdraw. Dido is convulsed with weeping.

_Dido_ (529-532; 534-552):

But not for me, unhappy one, this night’s sweet calm; My cares redouble and o’erwhelm me with their flood.

She leaves the window and paces the room.

Ah me, what shall I do? My former suitors seek And be again rejected? Shall I humbly court Numidia’s lords whose suit I have so often scorned? Or shall I rather follow haughty Ilium’s fleet, Submissive to their every will?—Because in sooth, ‘T is sweet to be delivered, and my former aid Still dwells within their faithful memory? But who, Though I should wish it, would permit me, or receive The hated Dido in their haughty ships? Ah, poor, Deluded one, dost thou not know, dost thou not still Perceive the frailty of a Trojan oath? What then? Shall I forsake my kingdom and accompany The joyful sailors, or with all my Tyrian bands Around me, follow in pursuit and force again My friends upon the deep and bid them spread their sails, My comrades whom with pain I weaned from Sidon’s halls? Nay, nay! as thou deservest, die, and with the sword Thy sorrows end. O why was it not given me To spend my life from wedlock and its sorrows free, As beasts within their forest lairs? Or why, alas, Was not my promise to Sychæus’ ashes kept?

She sprinkles incense on the flame at the shrine of Sychæus. Dawn begins to brighten. The sailors are heard singing in the distance. Dido starts. She rushes to the window, and looking out, sees the Trojan fleet sailing away over the sea. She cries out in frenzy.

_Dido_ (590-629):

Ye gods! and shall he go, and mock our royal power? Why not to arms and send our forces in pursuit, And bid them hurry down the vessels from the shore? Ho there, my men, quick, fetch the torches, seize your arms, And man the oars!—What am I saying? where am I? What madness turns my brain? O most unhappy queen, Is it thus thy evil deeds are coming back to thee? Such fate was just when thou didst yield thy scepter up.— Lo, _there ‘s_ the fealty of him who, rumor says, His country’s gods with him in all his wandering bears And on his shoulders bore his sire from burning Troy! Why could I not have torn his body limb from limb, And strewed his members on the deep? and slain his friends, His son Ascanius, and served his mangled limbs To grace his father’s feast?—Such conflict might have had A doubtful issue.—Grant it might, but whom had I, Foredoomed to death, to fear? I might have fired his camp, His ships, and wrapped in common ruin father, son, And all the race, and given myself to crown the doom Of all.—O Sun, who with thy shining rays dost see All mortal deeds; O Juno, who dost know and thus Canst judge the grievous cares of wedlock; thou whom wild And shrieking women worship through the dusky streets, O Hecate; and ye avenging Furies;—ye, The gods of failing Dido, come and bend your power To these my woes and hear my prayer. If yonder wretch Must enter port and reach his land decreed by fate, If thus the laws of Jove ordain, this order holds: But, torn in war, a hardy people’s foeman, far From friends and young Iulus’ arms, may he be forced To seek a Grecian stranger’s aid, and may he see The death of many whom he loves. And when at last A meager peace on doubtful terms he has secured, May he no pleasure find in kingdom or in life; But may he fall untimely, and unburied lie Upon some solitary strand. This, this I pray, And with my latest breath this final wish proclaim. Then, O my Tyrians, with a bitter hate pursue The whole accursèd race, and send this to my shade As welcome tribute. Let there be no amity Between our peoples. Rise thou from my bones, O some avenger, who with deadly sword and brand Shall scathe the Trojan exiles, now, in time to come, Whenever chance and strength shall favor. Be our shores To shores opposed, our waves to waves, and arms to arms, Eternal, deadly foes through all posterity.

The servants rush in terrified during her passionate speech, and as she utters her curse, stand cowering before her. She dismisses with a gesture all except old Barce, who approaches her mistress.

(634-640):

Go, bring my sister Anna hither, dearest nurse: In flowing water bid her haste to bathe her limbs, And bring the rightful sacrifices of the flock. So let her come. And thou with pious fillets gird Thy temples; for to Stygian Jove my mind is fixed To carry on the magic sacrifice begun, And end my cares, and to devouring flames consign The relics of that cursed son of Dardanus.

Barce totters away to do her bidding. Dido takes Æneas’ mantle and sword from the wall, and unsheathes the sword.

(651-662):

Sweet pledges of my lord, while fate and god allowed, Accept this soul of mine, and free me from my cares. For I have lived and run the course that Fortune set; And now my stately soul to Hades shall descend. A noble city have I built; my husband’s death Have I avenged, and on my brother’s head my wrath Inflicted. Happy, ah too happy, had the keels Of Troy ne’er touched my shores!—And shall I perish thus?— But let me perish. Thus, oh thus, ‘t is sweet to seek The land of shadows.—May the heartless Trojan see, As on he fares across the deep, my blazing pyre, And bear with him the gloomy omens of my death.

She rushes forth from the chamber in her frenzy. The sailors’ chorus is repeated fainter and fainter. In a moment her death cry is heard. The servants rush in, and finding their mistress gone, hasten in the direction of her cry. Their lamentation is heard. They return bearing the body of the queen upon a couch. She has fainted, and upon her bosom the wound shows red and terrible. Anna enters, beside herself with grief.

_Anna_, kneeling beside the couch, addresses Dido, who revives enough to smile upon her sister (676-685):

Was it for this, O sister, thou didst seek to hide Thy heart from me? Was this the meaning of the pyre, And this the altar fires? What plaint in my despair Shall I offer first? And didst thou spurn me, in thy death? Thou shouldst instead have bidden me to share thy fate; The selfsame moment should have reft the lives of both. And with these impious hands did I thine altar rear, And with this voice unto our country’s gods appeal, That, heartless, I might fail thee in this final hour? O sister, here hast thou destroyed thyself and me, Thy people, thy Sidonian fathers and thy realm. With soothing water let me bathe her flowing wounds, And if there hovers on her lips the fleeting breath, With my own lips I claim it in the kiss of death.

The sailors’ chorus sounds in the distance. Aroused by this, the dying queen half raises herself upon the couch. The servants throw open the casement and the Trojan ships are seen far away, sailing off over the sea.

Dido falls back lifeless. Curtain.

MUSIC

SONGS

PAGE PRELUDE 57

The authors are indebted to Professor A. A. Stanley of the University of Michigan for the accompaniment to this air.

HYMN TO THE DAWN 61

INVOCATION 69

SONG OF IOPAS 72

SLUMBER SONG 81

PRELUDE

To be sung in unison before the curtain.

HYMN TO THE DAWN