"Here," you said, and here your city was built;
here you ruled your empire, and to your throne
all roads led. Your spires and columns shone, gilt
by the morning sun, and your will governed each stone.
O queen, yet untouched by cruel fate, Dido:
look with pride upon your gleaming nation!
But yet know: delenda est Carthago;
for your Carthage, there is a destruction.
Roads shall crack and crumble, towers shall fall;
winding thorns shall break your once-proud city;
dust and darkness shall soon cover it all,
and Aeneas' sons shall show no pity.
So weep, queen, that your heart shall traitor turn;
weep, that your triumphant kingdom shall burn.