Volume 19, 2007 - Brown University

78 Ariayné Hilliard
then will I remain unnoticed and
they will not seek to tear me limb from
limb, wrest poor suffering sinew from tired tendon.
Enter Chorus as shades of Aeneas’ men. They are pale and wan; it is clear that
they are dead. Silently they glide about, with bedraggled armor and old battle
wounds.
Chorus: O sorrowful Aeneas, only now you
realize your loss. We redouble your words
we say what we will with glad meter we
mock you, employ all our skill. Shortly we
will teach you whatever lesson you must learn
lest in Hades’ fires you shall burn.
Yet you cower beneath your covers, though we
do not offer harm frightfully await
us, dreading in alarm. You claim the
hands of Fate hath laid you down so low
regret fully you speak, for only now
do you know. Listen as we lesson,
learn what once you spurned. For all
trust you’ve lost, you must seek to earn.
Clearly we aim to impart whatever still
remains deep in your heart. Mix not love
and civics, it encourages a cynic.
Lo, another shade calls quiet your squalls.
Enter the shade of Dido. She is dressed as a Queen, but, like the other shades, it
is clear that she is dead.
Dido: Oh my Aeneas, you I forgive though
we met once before, long you shan’t
live. During the night it is deemed that
you expire and rather than let you
roast alone in the fire, I, as a shade,
stand here and address, while you in your
bed fretfully digress. I give
you some time to retrieve your thoughts, gather
your mind, forget what you’ve lost. I bear
no grudge, I come with words of love, not
the kind you once endowed me, but
that of a friend to family. Receive and
reciprocate. Don’t renounce and reprobate.
The men have a point, they gathered here for