This semester, one of our readings in my World Lit class was Virgil's The Aeneid. The character of Dido really got under my skin, so for a final assignment, I chose to continue her narrative a bit:
Dido in her eternal walk of night
Finds no respite in that, her hollow death
Given on the pyre of her marriage bed.
In that moment, an act so just and pure
The sword, a treasured gift of Dardan love
Deeply plunged, to fly on wings of Isis
But leaving no emotion behind her
Her wound bleeds bright in the Underworld.
Sychaeus again by her side, steadfast
Should give some succor to her ravaged soul
Instead, the memory of Aeneas' tears
Blends into one with her eternal flow.
Not that anyone will even want to post this elsewhere, but if you do, please at least link back to me. Thanks.
No comments:
Post a Comment