Dido's End, from the Aeneid (Williams trans.)

'Moriemur inultae, sed moriamur' ait. 'sic, sic iuuat ire sub umbras. hauriat hunc oculis ignem crudelis ab alto Dardanus, et nostrae secum ferat omina mortis.' dixerat, atque illam media inter talia ferro conlapsam aspiciunt comites, ensemque cruore spumantem sparsasque manus. it clamor ad alta atria: concussam bacchatur Fama per urbem. lamentis gemituque et femineo ululatu tecta fremunt, resonat magnis plangoribus aether, non aliter quam si immissis ruat hostibus omnis Karthago aut antiqua Tyros, flammaeque furentes culmina perque hominum uoluantur perque deorum. audiit exanimis trepidoque exterrita cursu unguibus ora soror foedans et pectora pugnis per medios ruit, ac morientem nomine clamat: 'hoc illud, germana, fuit? me fraude petebas? hoc rogus iste mihi, hoc ignes araeque parabant? quid primum deserta querar? comitemne sororem spreuisti moriens? eadem me ad fata uocasses, idem ambas ferro dolor atque eadem hora tulisset. his etiam struxi manibus patriosque uocaui uoce deos, sic te ut posita, crudelis, abessem? exstinxti te meque, soror, populumque patresque Sidonios urbemque tuam. date, uulnera lymphis abluam et, extremus si quis super halitus errat, ore legam.' sic fata gradus euaserat altos, semianimemque sinu germanam amplexa fouebat cum gemitu atque atros siccabat ueste cruores. illa grauis oculos conata attollere rursus deficit; infixum stridit sub pectore uulnus. ter sese attollens cubitoque adnixa leuauit, ter reuoluta toro est oculisque errantibus alto quaesiuit caelo lucem ingemuitque reperta. Tum Iuno omnipotens longum miserata dolorem difficilisque obitus Irim demisit Olympo quae luctantem animam nexosque resolueret artus. nam quia nec fato merita nec morte peribat, sed misera ante diem subitoque accensa furore, nondum illi flauum Proserpina uertice crinem abstulerat Stygioque caput damnauerat Orco. ergo Iris croceis per caelum roscida pennis mille trahens uarios aduerso sole colores deuolat et supra caput astitit. 'hunc ego Diti sacrum iussa fero teque isto corpore soluo': sic ait et dextra crinem secat, omnis et una dilapsus calor atque in uentos uita recessit.

“Though for my death no vengeance fall, O, give me death!” she cried. “O thus! O thus! it is my will to take the journey to the dark. From yonder sea may his cold Trojan eyes discern the flames that make me ashes! Be this cruel death his omen as he sails!” She spoke no more. But almost ere she ceased, her maidens all thronged to obey her cry, and found their Queen prone fallen on the sword, the reeking steel still in her bloody hands. Shrill clamor flew along the lofty halls; wild rumor spread through the whole smitten city: Ioud lament, groans and the wail of women echoed on from roof to roof, and to the dome of air the noise of mourning rose. Such were the cry if a besieging host should break the walls of Carthage or old Tyre, and wrathful flames o'er towers of kings and worshipped altars roll. Her sister heard. Half in a swoon, she ran with trembling steps, where thickest was the throng, beating her breast, while with a desperate hand she tore at her own face, and called aloud upon the dying Queen. “Was it for this my own true sister used me with such guile? O, was this horrid deed the dire intent of altars, Iofty couch, and funeral fires? What shall I tell for chiefest of my woes? Lost that I am! Why, though in death, cast off thy sister from thy heart? Why not invite one mortal stroke for both, a single sword, one agony together? But these hands built up thy pyre; and my voice implored the blessing of our gods, who granted me that thou shouldst perish thus—and I not know! In thy self-slaughter, sister, thou hast slain myself, thy people, the grave counsellors of Sidon, and yon city thou didst build to be thy throne!—Go, fetch me water, there! That I may bathe those gashes! If there be one hovering breath that stays, let my fond lips discover and receive!” So saying, she sprang up from stair to stair, and, clasping to her breast her sister's dying form, moaned grievously, and staunched the dark blood with her garment's fold. Vainly would Dido lift her sinking eyes, but backward fell, while at her heart the wound opened afresh; three times with straining arm she rose; three times dropped helpless, her dimmed eyes turned skyward, seeking the sweet light of day, — which when she saw, she groaned. Great Juno then looked down in mercy on that lingering pain and labor to depart: from realms divine she sent the goddess of the rainbow wing, Iris, to set the struggling spirit free and loose its fleshly coil. For since the end came not by destiny, nor was the doom of guilty deed, but of a hapless wight to sudden madness stung, ere ripe to die, therefore the Queen of Hades had not shorn the fair tress from her forehead, nor assigned that soul to Stygian dark. So Iris came on dewy, saffron pinions down from heaven, a thousand colors on her radiant way, from the opposing sun. She stayed her flight above that pallid brow: “I come with power to make this gift to Death. I set thee free from thy frail body's bound.” With her right hand she cut the tress: then through its every limb the sinking form grew cold; the vital breath fled forth, departing on the viewless air.