The busy work each plies, And sweet with thyme and honey smells the hive.
"O happy ye, whose walls already rise!" Exclaimed AEneas, and with envious eyes Looked up where pinnacles and roof-tops showed The new-born city; then in wondrous wise, Clothed in the covering of the friendly cloud, Passed through the midst unseen, and mingled with the crowd.
LIX.

A grove stood in the city, rich in shade, Where storm-tost Tyrians, past the perilous brine, Dug from the ground, by royal Juno's aid, A war-steed's head, to far-off days a sign That wealth and prowess should adorn the line.
Here, by the goddess and her gifts renowned, Sidonian Dido built a stately shrine.
All brazen rose the threshold; brass was round The door-posts; brazen doors on grating hinges sound.
LX.

Here a new sight AEneas' hopes upraised, And fear was softened, and his heart was mann'd.
For while, the queen awaiting, round he gazed, And marvelled at the happy town, and scanned The rival labours of each craftsman's hand, Behold, Troy's battles on the walls appear, The war, since noised through many a distant land, There Priam and th' Atridae twain, and here Achilles, fierce to both, still ruthless and severe.
LXI.

Pensive he stood, and with a rising tear, "What lands, Achates, on the earth, but know Our labours?
See our Priam! Even here Worth wins her due, and there are tears to flow, And human hearts to feel for human woe.
Fear not," he cries, "Troy's glory yet shall gain Some safety." Thus upon the empty show He feeds his soul, while ever and again Deeply he sighs, and tears run down his cheeks like rain.
LXII.

He sees, how, fighting round the Trojan wall, Here fled the Greeks, the Trojan youth pursue, Here fled the Phrygians, and, with helmet tall, Achilles in his chariot stormed and slew.
Not far, with tears, the snowy tents he knew Of Rhesus, where Tydides, bathed in blood, Broke in at midnight with his murderous crew, And drove the hot steeds campward, ere the food Of Trojan plains they browsed, or drank the Xanthian flood.
LXIII.