"What first?
what last?
Nor Juno, nay, nor Jove With equal eyes beholds the wrongs I bear.
Faithless is earth, and false is Heaven above.
I took him in, an outcast, and bade spare, His ships and wandering comrades, let him share My home, and made him partner of my reign.
Ah me! the Furies drive me to despair.
Now Phoebus calls him, now the Lycian fane, Now Jove's own herald brings the dreadful news too plain: XLIX.

"Fit task for Gods; such cares disturb their ease.
I care not to confute thee nor delay.
Go, seek thy Latin lordship o'er the seas.
May Heaven--if Heaven be righteous--make thee pay Thy forfeit, left on ocean's rocks to pray For help to Dido.

There shall Dido go With sulphurous flames, and vex thee far away.
My ghost in death shall haunt thee.

I shall know Thy punishment, false wretch, and hail the news below." L.

Abrupt she ceased and, sickening with despair, Turns from his gaze, and shuns the light of day, And leaves the Dardan, faltering in his fear, And thinking of a thousand things to say.
Back to her marble couch the maids convey The fainting Queen.