Vergil Then back to shore he sped, and to his friends distributed the spoil, with that rare wine which good Acestes while in Sicily had stored in jars, and prince-like sent away with his Ioved guest;—this too Aeneas gave; and with these words their mournful mood consoled. “Companions mine, we have not failed to feel calamity till now. O, ye have borne far heavier sorrow: Jove will make an end also of this. Ye sailed a course hard by infuriate Scylla's howling cliffs and caves. Ye knew the Cyclops' crags. Lift up your hearts! No more complaint and fear! It well may be some happier hour will find this memory fair. Through chance and change and hazard without end, our goal is Latium; where our destinies beckon to blest abodes, and have ordained that Troy shall rise new-born! Have patience all! And bide expectantly that golden day.” Such was his word, but vexed with grief and care, feigned hopes upon his forehead firm he wore, and locked within his heart a hero's pain. But now a vaster spectacle of fear burst over us, to vex our startled souls. Laocoon, that day by cast of lot priest unto Neptune, was in act to slay a huge bull at the god's appointed fane. Lo! o'er the tranquil deep from Tenedos appeared a pair (I shudder as I tell) of vastly coiling serpents, side by side, stretching along the waves, and to the shore taking swift course; their necks were lifted high, their gory dragon-crests o'ertopped the waves; all else, half seen, trailed low along the sea; while with loud cleavage of the foaming brine their monstrous backs wound forward fold on fold. Soon they made land; the furious bright eyes glowed with ensanguined fire; their quivering tongues lapped hungrily the hissing, gruesome jaws. All terror-pale we fled. Unswerving then the monsters to Laocoon made way. First round the tender limbs of his two sons each dragon coiled, and on the shrinking flesh fixed fast and fed. Then seized they on the sire, who flew to aid, a javelin in his hand, embracing close in bondage serpentine twice round the waist; and twice in scaly grasp around his neck, and o'er him grimly peered with lifted head and crest; he, all the while, his holy fillet fouled with venomous blood, tore at his fetters with a desperate hand, and lifted up such agonizing voice, as when a bull, death-wounded, seeks to flee the sacrificial altar, and thrusts back from his doomed head the ill-aimed, glancing blade. Then swiftly writhed the dragon-pair away unto the templed height, and in the shrine of cruel Pallas sure asylum found beneath the goddess' feet and orbed shield. Such trembling horror as we ne'er had known seized now on every heart. “ Of his vast guilt Laocoon,” they say, “receives reward; for he with most abominable spear did strike and violate that blessed wood. Yon statue to the temple! Ask the grace of glorious Pallas!” So the people cried in general acclaim. 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.