They slaughter the pick of yearling sheep, the old way, to Ceres, Giver of Laws, to Apollo, Bacchus who sets us free and Juno above all, who guards the bonds of marriage. Dido aglow with beauty holds the bowl in her right hand, pouring wine between the horns of a pure white cow or gravely paces before the gods’ fragrant altars, under their statues’ eyes refreshing her first gifts, dawn to dusk. And when the victims’ chests are splayed, 80 Dido, her lips parted, pores over their entrails, throbbing still, for signs… But, oh, how little they know, the omniscient seers. What good are prayers and
...more
