Dido's Lament

As a reference for Cicero, Tusculan Disputations 3.19: 

Well, of course some curious soul sends a message asking about the depth of Dido's grief! Perhaps this can be a sufficient motivation for folks to discover the sad story on their own terms, without being given a lengthy and stale summary that must inevitably fail at getting to the heart of the matter—and it is a matter of the heart! . . . 

The quick version is that Aeneas has his duty, and Dido has her love, and the two do not mix well. It is pointless to merely cast blame—he must do what he feels he must do, and she must do what she feels she must do. Isn't that the root of so many tragedies? 

I'm sorry, you must ultimately read the Aeneid for it to make sense, though listening to Henry Purcell's brilliant opera, Dido and Aeneas, can also aid in understanding and, more importantly, in building a healthy touch of compassion. 

This short piece of music is about as exquisite and moving as it can get:

"Dido's Lament", from Henry Purcell, Dido and Aeneas (c. 1689) 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uGQq3HcOB0Y

Recitative 

Thy hand, Belinda, darkness shades me, 

On thy bosom let me rest, 
More I would, but Death invades me; 
Death is now a welcome guest. 

Aria 

When I am laid, am laid in earth, may my wrongs create 

No trouble, no trouble in thy breast; 

Remember me, remember me, but ah! forget my fate. 

Remember me, but ah! forget my fate. 

We won't even get into the bit where they later meet in the Underworld. . . . 

Please remember that it is perfectly okay if this produces a tear, or even a good many tears. You need not tell a soul! 

IMAGE: Joshua Reynolds, The Death of Dido (c. 1781)