Read Ebook: Two Dramatizations from Vergil: I. Dido—the Phœnecian Queen; II. The Fall of Troy by Virgil BCE BCE Nelson J Raleigh Joseph Raleigh Contributor Miller Frank Justus Translator

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Ebook has 311 lines and 26478 words, and 7 pages

But here, O friend, behold, in carv?d imagery, Our Trojan battles one by one, that mighty strife Whose fame has filled the world. Here see Achilles fierce, The sons of Atreus,--and, alas, our fallen king!

What place, Achates, what far corner of the world Is not o'erburdened with our woes? O fallen King, E'en here our glorious struggle wins its meed of praise, And those our mortal hopes defeated and o'erthrown, Are mourned by human tears. Therefore our present cares Let us dismiss. This fame shall bring us safety too.

See how the Greeks are fleeing, pressed by Trojan youth! While here, alas, our warriors flee Achilles' might.

And here behold the ill-starred Rhesus' white-winged tents, Where fierce Tydides slays his sleeping foe; and drives Those snowy steeds to join the Grecian camp, before They graze in Trojan meadows or the Xanthus drink. Alas poor Troilus, I see thee too, ill-matched With great Achilles. Prone thou liest within thy car, While in the dust thy comely locks and valiant spear Are basely trailed.

Here to Minerva's temple come Our Trojan dames with suppliant mien and votive gifts; With locks dishevelled, self-inflicted blows, and tears; But all for naught. All unappeased the goddess stands With stern averted face, nor will she heed their prayers.

Thrice round the walls of Troy the fell Achilles drags The body of my friend.--O Hector, Hector! Here He sells thy lifeless body for accursed gold, While aged Priam stretches forth his helpless hands.

And here behold thyself amid the Grecian chiefs In combat raging. See the swarthy Memnon's arms, And that fierce maid, who, clad in gleaming armor, dares To lead her Amazons and mingle in the fray.

Music is heard in the distance, flutes and zithers leading a chorus.

But hark! The distant strains of music greet my ear, As of some stately progress fitly timed with flute And zither. See, it is the queen, who with her band Of chosen youths and maidens hither takes her way.

How like Diana when she leads her bands by swift Eurotas, or on Cynthus green, while round her press A thousand graceful creatures of the wood; but she, With shoulder quiver-girt, a very goddess moves With stately tread among the lesser beings of Her train. To such an one I liken yonder queen.

They conceal themselves in the foreground behind the columns of the temple. Dido, accompanied by her bands of courtiers, crosses the stage and ascends the temple steps. She seats herself on the throne which has been placed for her at the temple door.

Dido throughout this act is dressed in white, the symbol of her widowhood. Her dress, worn without himation, is of light filmy stuff draped in the Greek style, and unornamented save for a border of gold thread. Anna wears a dress of delicate blue, elaborately embroidered about the edges with a Greek pattern in gold thread. Her himation, wrapped gracefully about her, is a tender shade of rose pink.

In Dido's train all classes are represented, gayly dressed courtiers, soldiers, and peasants. The men wear cloaks of dark blue and of rich brown over their tunics. The women are clad in dresses of cream color, pink, and faint green.

When all are on the stage, the general effect should be a mingling of pink, blue, brown, green, and white, which harmonize with the tints of the marble, of the flowering crab tree, the blue sky, and the purple mountains.

Suddenly Ilioneus and his following of Trojans appear. They wear the Phrygian costume, but over it the long brown traveling cloak. The singing ceases, the guards lower their spears, and great excitement reigns.

Achates, can it be? What! Antheus, and our brave Cloanthus and Sergestus too?

Yea, all our friends Whose ships the raging storm hath parted from our fleet And driven far away. O joy! Come, let us go And grasp their hands in greeting.

Nay, not so, for still Our fortune in the balance hangs. Here let us see What fate befalls our friends, where they have left their fleet, And why they hither come. For chosen messengers In suppliant aspect do they seek this sacred fane, While round them rage the mob.--But see, Ilioneus speaks.

Dido has arisen and with a gesture bids the soldiers stand aside. She sends a page to lead Ilioneus to her throne. Ilioneus kneels before her; she extends the scepter, which he touches.

Shouts of applause from the Trojans.

Let not a fear disturb your souls, O Teucrians; Away with all your cares. My cruel fortune and My yet unstable throne compel me thus to guard My bounds with wide and jealous watch. Who knows not well AEneas and his race, their city Troy, their brave, Heroic deeds? Who has not seen the far-off flames Of their great war? We carry not such brutish hearts Within our breasts, nor yet does Phoebus yoke his steeds So far from this our land. Seek you the mighty west, The land of Saturn's reign, or where your foster-king, Acestes, rules within Sicilia's borders? Lo, In safety will I send you forth and gird you with My aid. Or would you share with me this realm? Behold, The city which I build is yours. Draw up your ships. To Trojan and to Tyrian will I favor show In equal measure. Would that your AEneas' self, Conducted by the same o'er-mastering gale, were here! My messengers along the shore will I despatch, And bid them search the farthest bounds of Libya, If he in wood or city, rescued from the waves, May chance to stray.

She despatches courtiers to seek AEneas. AEneas and Achates, meantime, are greatly agitated by her words.

AEneas, what thy purpose now? Thou seest all is well. Thy fleet and captains all, Save one, are rescued. One we saw ourselves o'erwhelmed Within the deep. All else thy mother's prophecy Upholds.

At this, AEneas suddenly reveals himself, to the great surprise of both Trojans and Carthaginians.

O Queen, before thee, whom thou wouldst behold, am I, AEneas, Prince of Troy, late rescued from the waves Of Libya. O thou, who only o'er the woes, The dreadful woes of Troy hast wept, who to thy town And home dost welcome us, the leavings of the Greeks, Who every peril of the land and sea have faced, And lost our all: we may not thank thee worthily, O Queen, nor yet the Trojan race, what remnant still In distant lands in exile wanders. May the gods A fitting gift bestow upon thee; if indeed They feel a true regard for pious souls, if e'er The truth and conscious virtue aught avail. But thee-- What blessed age, what mighty parents gave thee birth? Whate'er my fate, while to the sea the rivers flow, While o'er the mountains' rounded sides the shadows drift, While on the plains of heav'n the stars shall feed, so long Thine honor and thy name and praises shall abide.

The queen is silent with amazement, while AEneas greets his friends amid general rejoicing.

What fate, thou son of heav'n, decrees these perils vast? And what the power that drives thee on our savage shores? And art thou that AEneas whom to Ilium's prince, Anchises, on the bank of Phrygian Simois, The kindly Venus bore? And now do I recall That Teucer once to Sidon came as suppliant; For exiled from his native Salamis he came. 'T was at the time when fertile Cyprus bowed beneath My father's might, and by the victor's sway was held. From that time on, thy name, and all the Grecian kings, And the fortunes of thy city have been known to me. Nay, Teucer's self, though foeman, sang the praise of Troy, And said that he himself from ancient Trojan stock Had sprung. Wherefore, O princes, come and make my halls Your own. An equal fate has willed that I, like you, The sport of many toils, should find a resting place Within this land. With grief acquainted, I have learned To comfort hapless wanderers oppressed with grief.

They prepare to leave the scene. Dido despatches men to bear gifts to the Trojan fleet, and proclaims a banquet for the ensuing night in honor of AEneas and the Trojan princes.

Go, speed thee, friend, to where, upon the sandy beach, Our comrades camp about the ships. This joyful news To young Ascanius bear, and bid him come with thee To Dido's town.

Exit Achates.

To other Trojans:

Go ye, and fetch from out the ships The treasures that we saved from Ilium's fall: the robe, Stiff wrought with golden pattern, and the flowing veil All interwov'n with bright acanthus' yellow bloom, Those beauteous robes of price which Argive Helen brought From rich Mycenae when to Pergama she came, Her mother's wondrous gift. And bring the scepter fair Which once Ilione, the eldest daughter of Our monarch, bore; the pearl-set necklace, and the crown, Its double golden circlet spangled o'er with gems.

The Trojans withdraw to do his bidding. The music sounds, and as the entire court moves from the scene, Dido sends some of her maidens back to throw incense upon the flames. They kneel upon the steps and Anna advances to the altar. As the smoke ascends, Dido and AEneas turn to follow the rest. Curtain.

A place in the deep, green forest. Ferns and flowers strew the ground and the sunlight falls through the branches in flecks of gold. In the foreground are two great moss-grown rocks, on one of which sits Cupid, draped with garlands of wild flowers, shooting his arrows at a heart-shaped target hung from the branches of a tree in the center of the stage. At one side sits Venus, absorbed in deep, troubled meditation. She has resumed the flowing draperies befitting a goddess. Pink or canary yellow will harmonize with the scene.

Ah me! I fear this Tyrian hospitality; For well I know their faithless hearts and lying tongues. And ever, mid the anxious watches of the night, The savage threats of Juno agitate my soul. If only this fair queen might feel the pulse of love For this my hero son, then would her purposes Of amity be fixed, and my anxiety Be set at rest.--But how accomplish my design?

Suddenly her face is lighted with a new thought. She goes to Cupid and addresses him with insinuating gentleness.

O son, my comrade and my only source of might, O thou, who scorn'st the giant-slaying darts of Jove, To thee I come and humbly pray thy fav'ring aid. How on the sea, from land to land, thy brother fares, Pursued by Juno's unrelenting hate, is known To thee, and often hast thou mingled in my grief. Now Tyrian Dido holds him, and with fawning words Delays his course; and much do I distrust and fear The shelter which our envious rival Juno gives. For, in this pregnant crisis of affairs, be sure She will be active. Wherefore now my mind is bent With wiles to take the queen, ere Juno steel her heart, And hold her fast in passion's net; that at the hest Of Juno she her present purpose may not change, But by a mighty love for this her Trojan guest She may be bound to work my will. Now hear thy part: Obedient to the summons of his doting sire, The youthful prince Ascanius goes to Dido's town With gifts which Ocean and the flames of Troy have spared; Him, lapped in sleep, will I to far Cythera bear, Or hide him in my sacred fane on Ida's top, Lest he should know what we intend, and thwart our plans. Do thou, if only for a night, assume the form Of young Ascanius, that, when the queen with joy To her embrace shall take thee, when amid the wine And feasting she shall hold thee in her arms and kiss Thy lips, thou mayst inflame her unsuspecting heart With the subtle fires of love.

As she unfolds her plan, Cupid is filled with delight. He struts up and down, comically imitating Ascanius. When his mother has finished, he hastens to pick up his scattered arrows, puts them in his quiver, and struts off, looking back for his mother's smile of approval. Curtain.

A banquet hall in Dido's palace. Across the back of the stage is a colonnade , raised above the level of the hall. Through the columns there is a view out over the moonlit sea. Two broad steps lead from the colonnade to a landing, from which again three steps at each side descend to the level of the hall . At the second wing on each side, curtained doorways open into the side rooms, from which the servants hurry with viands for the table. At the first wing , half columns form the corner of the wall. In the center a sort of triclinium is set for the feast, a broad, three-sided table flanked by couches upholstered in Tyrian purple and having pillows of blue and gold.

When the curtain rises, the moonlight is streaming down through the columns upon the scene. A tripod burns before the triclinium. Otherwise there is no light except as it flashes from the side rooms when the curtains are parted for an instant. Servants are strewing the banquet table with flowers and bringing in dishes of gold.

The antique bronze lamps, hung between the columns, are lighted one by one, till the scene is brilliant with light and color.

Music is heard within. The servants hastily finish their work. The royal party enters along the colonnade. Dido is still clad in white, but Anna and the other ladies of the court have assumed himations of royal purple, royal blue, brilliant yellow, and deep green. AEneas has laid aside his helmet and greaves, but still wears his breastplate of mail, although he carries on his shoulder a cloak of royal purple.

The Carthaginians are more elaborately and richly dressed than in the first scene. The Trojans have put aside their outer cloaks, and wear tunics gayly embroidered in colors. The servants wear tunics of white.

The guests recline upon the couches. AEneas is in the seat of honor, while Dido has placed the supposed Ascanius upon the couch at her side. Many of the Carthaginians and the Trojans fill the hall.

Dido rises. There is silence through the room. She intones the invocation.

O Jove, thou lord of gods and men, since 't is from thee The rites of hospitality proceed, ordain That this may be a day of joy to us of Tyre And these the Trojan exiles; let its fame go down To our descendants. May the god of wine and joy, And fost'ring Juno grace and celebrate the day.

The entire company repeats the invocation in unison. When they have finished, all bow and Dido pours forth the libation upon the table. Touching the cup to her lips, she passes it to the guests of honor.

While the cup is passing about, Iopas and his chorus sing.

Of the orb of the wandering moon I sing, As she wheels through the darkening skies; Where the storm-brooding band of the Hyades swing, And the circling Triones arise; Of the sun's struggling ball Which the shadows appall Till the menacing darkness flies;

Of the all-potent forces that dwell in the air, With its measureless reaches of blue; The soft floating clouds of gossamer there, And the loud-wailing storm-rack too; Of the rain and the winds And the lightning that blinds When its swift-darting bolt flashes through;

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