While we await our Sybil and she denies us entrance
Demanding the bough of a tree which in our youth
Cried out to us—the one of many looked upon—
And when received she shows us in
Anchises lures us with the dream we dream at dawn
Though he was sworn to secrecy, he welcomes us
Without the consent of Venus
And our father tells us nothing
Nothing of Dido—the one of many undone—
And the end of his youth entered into through a horn
Not the portal of ivory we were promised
O Grandfather, you hear our cries and leave us
Storyless