The pious Prince, though fain With gentle words her anguish to ally, Sighing full sore, and racked with inward pain, Bows to the God's behest, and hastens to the main.
LI.

Stirred by his presence, at their chief's command, The Trojan mariners, with might and main, Bend to the work.

Along the shelving strand They launch tall ships that long had idle lain.
The tarred keel joys the waters to regain.
Timbers unshaped and many a green-leaved oar They fetch from out the forest, glad and fain To speed their flight, and hurrying to the shore Forth from the town-gates fast the mustering Trojans pour.
LII.

As ants that, mindful of the cold to come, Lay waste a mighty heap of garnered grain, And store the golden treasure in their home: Back through the grass, with plunder, o'er the plain In narrow column troops the sable train: Their tiny shoulders heave, with restless moil, The cumbrous atomies; these scourge amain The loiterers in the rear, and guard the spoil.
Hot fares the busy work; the pathway glows with toil.
LIII.

What, hapless Dido, were thy feelings then?
What groans were thine, from out thy tower to view The ships prepared, the shores astir with men, The turmoil'd deep, the shouting of each crew! O tyrant love, so potent to subdue! Again, perforce, she weeps for him; again She stoops to try persuasion, and to sue, And yields, a suppliant, to her love's sweet pain, Lest aught remain untried, and Dido die in vain.
LIV.