But Cytherea in her heart revolved new wiles, new schemes: how Cupid should transform his countenance, and, coming in the guise of sweet Ascanius, still more inflame the amorous Queen with gifts, and deeply fuse through all her yielding frame his fatal fire. Sooth, Venus feared the many-languaged guile which Tyrians use; fierce Juno's hate she feared, and falling night renewed her sleepless care. Therefore to Love, the light-winged god, she said: “Sweet son, of whom my sovereignty and power alone are given! O son, whose smile may scorn the shafts of Jove whereby the Titans fell, to thee I fly, and humbly here implore thy help divine. Behold, from land to land Aeneas, thine own brother, voyages on storm-driven, by Juno's causeless enmity. Thou knowest it well, and oft hast sighed to see my sighs and tears. Dido the Tyrian now detains him with soft speeches; and I fear such courtesy from Juno means us ill; she is not one who, when the hour is ripe, bids action pause. I therefore now intend the Tyrian Queen to snare, and siege her breast with our invading fire, before some god shall change her mood. But let her bosom burn with love of my Aeneas not less than mine. This thou canst bring to pass. I pray thee hear the plan I counsel. At his father's call Ascanius, heir of kings, makes haste to climb to yon Sidonian citadel; my grace protects him, and he bears gifts which were saved from hazard of the sea and burning Troy. Him lapped in slumber on Cythera's hill, or in Idalia's deep and hallowing shade, myself will hide, lest haply he should learn our stratagem, and burst in, foiling all. Wear thou his shape for one brief night thyself, and let thy boyhood feign another boy's familiar countenance; when Dido there, beside the royal feast and flowing wine, all smiles and joy, shall clasp thee to her breast while she caresses thee, and her sweet lips touch close with thine, then let thy secret fire breathe o'er her heart, to poison and betray.” The love-god to his mother's dear behest gave prompt assent. He put his pinions by and tripped it like Iulus, light of heart. But Venus o'er Ascanius' body poured a perfect sleep, and, to her heavenly breast enfolding him, far, far away upbore to fair Idalia's grove, where fragrant buds of softly-petalled marjoram embower in pleasurable shade.