The Frontispiece.  

Here wounded by her own hand Dido lies.  
There with conspiring Winds Aeneas flies.  
Is faith so frail? or can no private care  
Or friendship stand with Empire? This great pair,  
Two bodies that one soul did lately g●ide,  
Now th' Earth and Seas, even life and death divide.  
So the high Pines that equally did crown  
The Carthaginian mountain, now cut down  
And by new motion carried several ways:  
Part rigges his ship, and part her Pile doth raise.  
What moved these Princes to their fates? behold  
A Cypresse-garland and a Crown of gold.   

Dido and Aeneas The Founrth Book of Virgil's Aeneis Now Englished Bij Robert Stanijston Esgr john Droeshount scunsp   
Printed for William Cook at Hurnivalls' Inn gate in Holborn   

TO MY MOST HONOURED Lady, my Lady TWISLETON, Daughter of Henry Stapylton Esquire, and Wife to Sir GEORGE TWISLETON, Baronet.  
MADAM,  
I Have obeyed your commands, and (as fare as my power extends) perfected them. The Queen of CARTHAGE hath learned English to converse with you: be pleased now to esteem her as a Native, but in the errors of her language, still remember she was borne a Foreigner. I doubt not but the correspondence your knowledge holds with Time-past, hath truly informed your Ladyship, that DIDO fell by her own hand a Martyr of CHASTITY, not a SACRIFICE to PASSION: but let not this move you to suspect my Author, as envious to your Noble Sex, or ambitious to enlarge the ROMAN Conquest in a Lady's fame, fare be it from your apprehension, as from his: he writes a POEM, not a HISTORY, and draweth not the Picture of DIDO, but of ART to life: I took this Copy for your Ladyship; pardon me that I publish it, my chief design being to do honour to so excellent a Kinswoman: in whose natural perfections our Family, in whose virtues our Time glories. Be constant to your goodness, and the world shall subscribe, as I,  
Your Ladyship's True Honourer, Robert Stapylton.   

The TRANSLATOR  
WIllingly I would omit this entertainment to my Reader; for if he be only a pretender to conception, he will pretend to conceive me howsoever: If really ingenious he needs no preparative, unless he be a Crittique, and then he deserves not any thing, because he will be satisfied with nothing. But Custom exacts Ceremony, and I pay my tribute, jest I should be thought proud or foolish, that I either would not, or could not give an account of my elections.  
That I pitched upon the Fourth Book of the Aeneis, and singled it from the rest, was by such a Commands as (like celestial influences) did not violently enforce, but strongly incline my will: Reason assuring me, I might justify my obedience, and quote Virgil for it; himself having first read to Augustus Caesar, the Second, This, and the sixth Book; And so entire a work I do esteem this Book, as while it remains solitary, I presume to: give it the Title of DIDO and AENEAS: wherein I prefix her name, and would add my reasons; but I imagine no man will quarrel with a Lady for place: much less with a Queen in her own Kingdom.  
Opinion the common game that Muses fly at, hath not raised mine upon the wing. Of a noble Fame who covets not the purchase? it is a wholesome air, and breathes new spirits into a man; but mutable Opinion is wind, and I would not rashly carve Letters on a Weathercock: I writ lower, therefore safer, couching my Name under the learned Maro.  
I will not offer to defend my Author, that were to present succours to a Prince reigning in full peace, the Prince of the Latin Poets. If any should question him for the truth of History, the verse is transparent, they may only intent their sight, and look quite through the Feigned work: and in the Founders of the Carthaginian and Roman Empires Dido and Aeneas, they shall read the mysteries of their Foundations, the Feminine and Masculine governements of those two great Cities, by Merchandise, and Arms; And if it be a fiction that Aeneas ever saw Dido, it is true that Rome fell into the power of Carthage, till by a Faction growing in the bosom of this State, it was persuaded, like a lovesick Lady, to trust itself in the arms and embrace of Rome, that would seem commanded by Fate to break all mutual ties; till cursing the Roman falsehood, the reputation and spirit of poor Carthage glided into wind.  
In Englishing Virgil, I have given him a Language, not so low as to bring down his Aeneis to his Eclogues, and level the expressions of his Princes with his Shepherds: nor so high, that he should not be intelligible to the Unlearned, as if he still spoke Latin. It is true that wit distilled in one language, cannot be transfused into another without loss of spirits: yet I presume such graces are retained, as those of the Noblest quality will favour this Translation, from an Original, that was sometimes the unenvied Favourite of the greatest Roman Emperor.  
But I have now detained you so long, we shall not ●ome to Carthage in time, to the Feast made for Aeneas: I can only for the present, bring you to ●eare the Echoes of his last compliment to Dido, having commanded him to relate the Stratagem of ●he Greeks', and the course of his own adventures, Thus Virgil brings him off; 
Hence to your Court some god my passage steered,  
Sacred Aeneas, whom all listening heard,  
Troy's fate, and his own fortunes thus expressed,  
At length here ceased, took leave, and went to rest.   
AUGUSTUS   

AUGUSTUS CEASAR On the Command of VIRGIL by Testament that his Works should be burned.  

COuld his last breath command so black a sin?  
Shall learned Uirgil's great Must perish in  
The greedy fire? shall his Art die? o shame!  
And can our Eyes behold it? nor the flame  
His honour spare? will he not then permit  
The love we own his works? Prohibit it  
Bright Phoebus! Roman Muses speak your charms.  
Bacchus, fair Ceres' aid, he in your arms  
Your soldier was, your husbandman improved.  
For what would by the working Spring be moved  
He taught: what Summer forces, Autumn yields,  
Or Winter's age affords. Reformed the fields.  
A match concluded 'twixt the Elm and Vine.  
Ordered the Beasts: did to the Bees assign  
Their straw-pavillions. And were all these made  
For ruin? should the Parent this have said?  
But Law must be observed, his last will stand:  
We must obey the power of his Command.  
Be rather broken the Law's Reverenced power,  
Than one day shall the heap'd-up pains devou'r  
Of nights and days so many. On's last breath  
His watchful studies blast, Perhaps in death  
Rage seized him; & his tongue did something vent,  
His spirits strayed: not of his own intent,  
But conquered with the languishing vile pain.  
If then his Soul were blind, shall Troy again  
Her Ruins feel? again be forced to mourn?  
After Love's wound and Death's shall Dido burn?  
Shall such a sacred work such wars such swords  
Turn dust, in one bad hou'r, by erring words?  
Come, come, all floods Pierian sisters give,  
Andquench these flames; Let Virgil each where liu  
T'himselfe unkind, envying the world his wit:  
In the grave hurtful. He commanded it he dead  
But if my countermand  
His whole Muse sounding shall immortalize suffice,  
His name; his verse is by our power approved  
Let him be praised, live please, be read, be loved.    

On DIDO and AENEAS, Translated by my much honoured, much loved friend, Robert Stapylton Esq.  

THy life and Verse is such, I dare commend  
Thee and thy labours, and boast thee my friend  
To my advantage: for I good must be  
And knowing, if I praise thy wit and thee.  
Nor can praise swell thee, who ne'er hop'st to sit  
At the loud-talking helm of seeming wit,  
And steer the ship of fools; who tak'st no pride  
To have thy name 'mong Ladies glorified,  
Or Lords like them judicious: who hast wealth  
Enough to drink, not mentioning their health.  
Thy soul is liberal: not forced to writ  
Like the gay Pander, or smooth Parasite  
To win oth'sense of man. Thy fancis found  
A virtuous operation in the mind.  
But those hereafter to the World you'll show  
By this Translation you now Print we know  
You Latin understand, a Science few  
Have reached oth'magnified Poetic crew,  
Who yet persuade the Courtier, Maro's vain  
Is Pigmy to their own Gyganticke strain.  
And they who have the ancient Latins read,  
Or late Italians, will uncrown thy head  
Of its due Laurel, and sharp Critics be  
Not against thy work, they cannot, but against thee  
Who wouldst not their fine cunning imitate,  
Intitling that thy own, thou didst Translate.  
By this they grew proud minions to fond Fame,  
Though like the Moon they shined with borrowed flam●  
Cold in themselves: or prodigally spent  
Like riotous youth, only on moneys lent.  
While thou, as I, how ere they malice it,  
Dost only spend o'th' stock of thy own wit.  
Endeavour nobly still. And should the sport  
Of us but the gay wonder of the Court,  
The perfumed Sir Whisper i'th' Lady's ear,  
That Dido doth not in thy language bear  
Due state, or copies want th' Originals art,  
Bid him, play with her Fan and Act his part.  
Court not Opinion, and triumphant bays  
Will follow Virtue. Even this Piece will raise  
Not subject to times rage, or Envy's spoil,  
A Pyramid to thee in Dido's Pile.   
W. HABINGTON.   

THE FOURTH BOOK OF UIRGIL'S AENEIS.  
The Argument.  

THe queen enamoured doth her Sister move,  
And by her council yields herself to love▪  
They court the Gods with gifts and Sacrifice:  
She hunts, and joins with him in Venus' ties▪  
The rumour spreads: for flight Aeneas then  
Warned by a God prepares his ships, and men;  
Dido perceives it, and entreats delay:  
But Fate commands, he hath no power to stay.  
Her Pile she desperate mounted, her last breath  
His falsehood cursed, and with his sword forced death.   

But with sad care struck-deepe, her wound the queen  
Feeds in her veins, melts in a fire unseen.  
The man's much virtue wanders in her mind,  
His Troy's great name: his looks & language found  
Root in her bosom. Care her rest denies.  
Next morning th'earth with Sunbeams purifies,  
And from heaven's beauty the moist shadow breaks  
When, crazed, t'her dearest sister thus she speaks.   

My sister Anne, what dreams my doubts affright  
Who's this new Guest that on our coast did light!  
Whom speaks his face, strong soul, and force! In lin  
Is I believe (nor is Faith vain) Divine.  
Fear low minds argues; by what fates (ay me)  
Hath he been tossed! what fought-out wars sung he  
Were't not a thing within me fixed upon  
Immoveably, to match myself to none,  
Since Death deceiving me, my first Love fled,  
Were I not weary of the Torch and bed:  
Perhaps this one lin, might me Captivated;  
For (I confess) since poor Sychaeus fate  
My Lord, our house-gods stained by fratricide:  
This sole man forced me from my vow to slide;  
The path of my forgotten flame I see;  
But first I wish earth's depth may gape for me,  
Th'Almighty Thunder strike me to the Spirits,  
Pale spirits of Hell, and to their darkest nights,  
E'er shame I violate thee, or thy laws wrong;  
He that first won it, took my love along  
To his cold Tomb: there let him keep it still.   

Tears, flowing whilst she speaks, her bosom fill,  
Anne thus replies, O thou more loved then day,  
wilt thou a Widow wear thy youth away?  
Sweet Babes wilt thou not know? Love's bounties share?  
Thinkest thou for that, dust or pale shadows care?  
What though no Suitors warmed thy cold desire?  
Not Lybians, not Hiarbas scorned in Tyre,  
Nor leaders great in Africa, a rich Land  
In triumphs, wilt thou yet pleased love withstand?  
Mindst thou not where thou art? Geteses never foiled  
Here girt thee, there hard Syrtis, and the wild  
Numidians: a dry Desert here, and fare-  
Raging Barceans; of Tyre's growing war,  
Pigmaleons' threats (our brother) what is said?  
Sure by propitious gods, by Juno's aid,  
The Trojan ships have steered their course to thee;  
How great this town, what Kingdoms shalt thou see  
Rise by this match! Troyans' accompanying  
In Arms, how high will Punic glory spring?  
Crave thou the gods leave only, sacrifice,  
Than entertain him, cause of stay device,  
Whilst Winter, and Orion swells the Seas:  
His ships are broke, and Heaven no Law obeys.  
Thus her fired soul she did with love inflame,  
Gave hope t'her doubtful mind, and banished shame.   

They go to th' temple first, at th' Altars pray  
For peace: of course they chosen Heifers slay  
To Ceres, Phoebus, Bacchus: zealously  
To juno, Patroness o'the marriage tie.  
Fair Dido's self holds th' ewer, & pours between  
The white Cow's horns, or by the gods is seen  
Employed at their fat Altars: crownes the day  
With gifts, Beasts opened breasts she doth surveyed,  
Consults their breathing entrails. Ah dull mind  
Of Priests what help can vows or Temples found  
For her that's mad? This while, a soft flame eats  
Her marrow, in her breast a dumb wound beats.  
Unhappy Dido burns, strays wild through all  
The Town; like as a Hind, at th' arrows fall,  
Whom heedless some far darting Shepherd strooke  
Ith' Cressian woods, whilst his winged steel forsook  
Him unawares: she flies through lawns & thicks,  
But in her side the deadly arrow sticks.  
Now with Aeneas 'bout the walls she goes,  
Boasts her Sidonian wealth, the townstrength shows  
Attempts to speak, stops the word halfe-exprest.  
Now Evening, hopes for such another feast:  
Again prays (mad) to hear Troy's fate, and then  
Hangs, ravished, at th' Historians lips again.  
They parted: when, by turn, the dull black night  
Reigned, and declining Stars did rest invite,  
She mourns to th' empty room, and sits where he  
Late sat, doth him though absent hear and see:  
Or for the father's sake she hugs his child,  
And tries if so cursed Love could be beguiled.  
Forts halfe-built go not on; the youth forsakes  
To practice arms, no warlike Bulwarks makes:  
The works hung wildly broken off, with high  
And threatening pinnacles, that brave the sky.  
When Jove's loved wife, saw what a plague had caught  
Her Dido, fury setting fame at naught,  
She, meeting Venus, to this purpose says,  
Large spoils thou and thy boy, sure mighty praise  
You win: A memorable name, and great?  
One woman conquered by two gods deceit.  
Alas I know thou fearedst these walls of ours,  
And to what hight Carthage might raise her towers  
But to what end? why now this great debate?  
Rather perpetual peace let's celebrated,  
And marriages: thou hast thy hearts desire:  
Fond Dido burns, her marrow's all a fire:  
These Nations then, in common, let's preserve  
With equal powers. Let her a Trojan serve,  
To thee we Carthage for a dowry leave.   

Thus (for 'twas spoke in craft she did perceive,  
Rome's Empire in the Lybian parts to hold;  
Venus encounters her; what madman would  
Refuse this? or in War with thee contend?  
If what thou motion'st Fortune can be friend:  
But I doubt Fate: if jove those come from Troy;  
With these of Tyre, would have one Town enjoy,  
Or likes the men be mixed, or leagues be joined:  
Thou art his wife, hast power to sound her mind:  
Proceed, I'll second; thus great juno then  
Catcht it, be that my care, now by what mean  
This may be done, mark, briefly I'll declare.  
Aeneas and poor Dido t'hunt prepare  
Ith'Forrest, when to morrow's Sun displays  
His first rise, th' orb unfolding with his rays.  
I (whilst the horse toil in the chase) will pour,  
Mixed with a storm of hail, a darkening shower  
Upon them: and all Heaven with thunder fright:  
The troops shall scatter, covered in black night:  
Dido shall with Troy's General found one Cave,  
There I'll be, and if thy firm grant I have,  
I'll tie them sure, and give her for his own  
In marriage. No dislike to juno known;  
Venus assents, and smiles to found her train,   

This while, Aurora rising leaves the main,  
Choice youth bear through the Ports wide nets (now day)  
Cordes & broad iron toils; then rush away  
Massylian horse; fleshed hounds. At the Court gate,  
For the queen lingering in her Chamber, wait  
The Carthage Lords, her foaming Courser (gay  
In gold and purple) on the Bit doth play.  
At length she with a Princely train appears:  
A Tyrian robe, the borders stained, she wears.  
Of gold her quiver, her hair wound in gold:  
A golden button doth the purple hold.   

Wanton julus, and the Trojans are  
Now marching for the chase. Aeneas  
Above them all) joins troops with hers: even as fair  
When Phoebus doth from Winter Lycia pass,  
Or Xanthus: and his mother's Delos greet,  
'Bout th' Altars dancing Cretans murmuring meet,  
Driopes, painted Agathyrsians mix;  
He his hair twined in gold with Bayes doth fix:  
On's shoulder arrows clashing; with such grace  
Aeneas rides, like Beauty in his face.  
When hills they'd climbed, & dens unpathd by man,  
Here you might see wild Goats, that downhill ran,  
As cast off from the rocks: in wide plains there  
From mountains frighted herds of flying Deer,  
Lost in their dust. In his swift horse the boy  
Ascanius doth amidst the valleys joy,  
Now these, now those out gallop,: 'tis his wish  
Mongst the dull herds, a foaming Boar would rush  
Or yellow Lion from the hill descend:  
Mean while with horrid noise the heavens contend:  
Rain mixed with hail, strait follows. Tyrians fly,  
Ascanius and the youthful Troyans' hie,  
Frighted away: to several shelters all  
Now straggling. Rivers from the mountains fall.  
Troy's General and Dido took one Cave.  
First earth and marrying juno th' Omen gave:  
Fire flashed, th' air's privy to the match: on hills  
Nymphs howled: that day of death first, first of ills  
Was cause; for neither form doth Dido move,  
Nor fame, nor now she meditates stolen love,  
Wedlooke she call'st ', pretexting with that name  
Her fault; strait through great Lybian towns go fame   

Fame, that's an evil swiftest in her course,  
That life's by change; by going gathers force.  
By fear first little, then through th' air is spread:  
Her feet the Earth, and Clouds involve her head:  
Vexed by the gods, 'tis said the mother earth  
Adds fame t' Enceladus and Ceus birth,  
Their youngest sister: swift-heeld, winged, a loathed,  
Huge monster, as with plumes her body's clothed,  
So many sharp Eyes lurk (strange to relate)  
So many Ears to listen, tongues to prate.  
By night she, screeching, through mid-heaven flies,  
And through th' earth's shade: no sleep doth close her eyes,  
By day sits watching, & from towers doth pry,  
Or houses tops, and great Towns terrify.  
Speaker of truths, in false reports as bold.  
She then with joy things done and undone told.  
And filled the people with strange rumours, how  
Aeneas came, and Dido's love did bow,  
That flying Trojan to her bed to take:  
Now long, as Winter, their delights they make.  
Careless of Empire, in foul lust abused;  
This the vile goddess t' all men's mouths dis-fused.  
And strait her course to King Hiarbas turns,  
Her words increase his wrath, his soul she burns.   

joves' son, of ravished Garamante borne.  
This Prince a hundred Temples did adorn  
In his large Kingdom to his Father jove:  
Hallowed the watchful fires, to powers above  
Eternal guards: and fattened with beast gores  
His soil, with flowery garlands wreathed his door  
Madwith this bitter bruit inflamed, he's said,  
Fore th'altars, midst the powers of gods, t'have prey  
Complaining much, with hands to heavenward cas●   

All powerful jove, to whom the Moors now ta●  
Grape-honors, on beds painted banqueting,  
Seest thou this? Do we fear thee thundering  
In vain O father? are those lightnings blind,  
And murmurs idle, that affright our mind?  
The woman that (strayed hither) built a poor  
Town, and bought leave, compelled to blow the shore  
To which place we gave Laws (our match abhorred)  
Aeneas o'er her Land receives as Lord:  
And now that Paris, with's halfemen, bold in  
His Phrygian Mitre, his oiled hair and chin,  
Wins her by rape: while 'tis our part to bring  
Gifts to thy Temple, vain fame cherishing.  
Holding the Altar, praying in this sort,  
Th' Almighty heard him, cast his eyes to th' Court  
And lovers, of fair fame oblivious:  
Than speaks to Hermes, and commands him thus.   

Son, call the West-wind, wing thyself, away,  
Speak to the Trojan chief, that now doth stay th' air.  
In Tyrian Carthage, mindles to prepare,  
For towns fate gave him, bear these words through  
Not such his fairest mother t'us assured him,  
Nor therefore twice from Graecian arms secured him,  
But to rule Italy, with Empire great,  
And loud in War, Troy's blood to propagate,  
And to one Law the Conquered World to frame.  
If not these glories, nor his care of Fame  
Raise his endeavours: sure he envies not  
Rome to his son? upon what hope or plot,  
Stays he on hostile ground? doth he despise  
Th' Ausonian blood: Lavinian Signories?  
Let him sail, this our charge, thou Herald be.  
jove said; t'obey's great father's Mandates he  
Prepares, first golden winged shoes he ties  
To's feet, with which o'er land and Sea he flies,  
By a full blast supported; he takes then  
His wand, wherewith he calls pale souls again  
From Hell, and others sends to woes beneath:  
Gives and breaks sleep, and seals up eyes in death.   

Thus armed, he swims through clouds, the wind he rides  
And flying, views the crown, & craggy sides  
Of Atlas: whose hard Summit Heaven upholds:  
Atlas, that still his Piny head infolds  
In sullied clouds; beaten with the wind and shower.  
Fallen snow his shoulders covers; Rivers powre  
Fron th' old man's chin, his yce-startched beard affrights  
Here Hermes sailing with even wings first lights:  
Hence to Seas headlong doth his body throw,  
Like to a Bird that ne'er the Sea flies low,  
'Bout fishy Rocks and ports: so he wings over  
(Hovering 'twixt Heaven and Earth) the sandy shore  
Of Lybia, cuts the winds, descending down  
From's mother's father. The yet low built town  
When first his feathered feet touched, he did view  
Aeneas forming Towers: contriving new  
The roofs; his sword bright jaspar starred; he glowd  
In Tyrian dyes: a Robe from's shoulder flowed,  
A gift rich Dido wrought, and did implaite  
The woof with thin gold: he invades him strait.   

Thy mind foundations of high Carthage lays,  
And thou uxorious a great Town dost raise:  
Ah mindless of thy Empire and thy ends!  
The King of gods from his high Palace sends  
Me to thee; he whose power the heavens doth sway  
And th' earth: charged me through th' air these words convey.  
What hope in Lybia idles thee? what plot?  
If glory of so great things moves thee not,  
Nor love of thy own praise inflames thy care:  
Respect Iülus rise, and hopes, thy heir,  
Whose birthright the Italian Kingdom is:  
And Roman soil. Cyllenius, speaking this,  
E'er he replied, left mortal formes disguise,  
And in the thin air vanished from his Eyes.  
This sight astonishes Aeneas mind,  
His hair starts up: his words no passage found.  
He longs to fly, and leave that sweetest land:  
Mazed at such warning, and the gods command.  
What should he do alas? how can he break  
With th' angry Queen? or with what preface speak?  
His quick soul he divides, now here, now there:  
Distracted turns his spirits every where.   

Than calls (this seems of all the easiest way)  
Mnesthes, Sergestus, strong Cloanthus, they  
Must closely rig the Fleet: their fellow's train  
To th' shore, arm, cause for preparation fain.  
Whilst he (since noblest Dido did not reach  
His aim: but hoped such love would know no breach)  
Would try to gain access, and times to move  
Most soft, and means most fit. They nimble prove  
T' obey him, his commands dispatch: the while  
The queen found (who a lover can beguile)  
The plot: and first of future motions thought,  
Fearing all was not safe: vile Fame than brought  
Her news the Fleet was armed, & course set down:  
Raging she flies like Thyas through the Town,  
When sacrifices wildly now begun,  
And having heard her Bacchus, she doth run  
At th' Origes sounds: and dark Cithaeron's calls.  
At length her fury on Aeneas falls.  
And didst thou hope, perfidious, to conceal  
Such falsehood? Silent from my land to steal?  
Cannot our hand, once thine, our love, once dear,  
Nor Dido's pitied funerals stay thee here?  
Wilt thou by Winter Stars thy Fleet set forth,  
And venture through the deep the Wind at North?  
Cruel, what if not bound for a strange Land,  
And unknown houses? did old Troy yet stand?  
Wouldst thou seek Troy through the enraged Sea?  
Me fliest thou? by these tears, this hand I pray,  
Since to myself fond I have else left naught:  
By our new joys of marriage, if I aught  
Deserve of thee: or aught was sweet that's mine,  
Pity a falling house: that mind of thine  
I pray (if prayers have place) put off. For thee  
Numidian Tyrants, Lybians malice me.  
The Tyrians murmur: for thee dead is shame,  
And (which I climbed the Stars by) my first fame.  
To whom wilt thou leave dying me? O guest!  
For of all titles only that doth rest.  
What stay I for? till down Pigmaleon shakes  
My walls? or me Hiarbas captive takes?  
Yet had I been a mother ere thy flight,  
If I had playing in my Court, or sight,  
A young Aeneas having but thy look:  
Not captive I should seem, nor quite forsook.   

She said, he warned by jove, ne'er moves his Eyes;  
Checks struggling grief, and thus, in short, replies.  
What favours you so e'er can boast of, I  
Great Queen acknowledge: nor while memory  
I of myself conserve, or life this frame  
Shall move, will I forget Eliza's name.  
Brief for my cause I'll speak; by flight to get  
Hence (feign it not) I ne'er hoped, never yet  
Pretended marriage: nor had such intent.  
If Fate had left it at my choice t'have spent  
My life, and might I order my own care:  
The ruined Ilium first I would repair,  
And our own Relics, Priam's towers should stand,  
Troy rendered to the vanquished by this hand.  
Phoebus and Lycian lots, great Italy  
Assign; that must our love, our Country be.  
If, being a Phoenician borne, thy sight  
These Carthage towers, and Lybian towns delight.  
Why then are Troyans' envied, if we do  
Plant Latium? we may seek strange Kingdoms too.  
Anchyses, my dead father, often as night  
Rises in shades, and stars show fiery light,  
Warns me in dreams: his troubled ghost breeds dread.  
My boy Ascanius moves me, that dear head,  
Which I defraud of the Hesperian Crown,  
And destined Earth; from jove himself sent down  
Now, even the gods Embass'dor (I attest  
Both their bright heads) through the quick air addressed  
These Mandates; in clear light the god I saw,  
Entering these walls: his voice these ears did draw:  
To vex us both with thy complaints forbear,  
I seek not Italy a Volunteire.   

This said, her eyes (obliquely fixed before)  
She rolls about, and wanders him all over:  
And then afire thus speaks. Thy mother nor  
Goddess, nor Dardanus thy Ancestor,  
False man; thee Caucasus got on a Rock,  
And some Hyrcanian Tigress gave thee suck.  
Why should I feign? for what worse usage stay?  
Sighed he with us? cast he his eyes this way?  
Wept he at all? orpittied he our love?  
What shall I say? great juno now, nor jove,  
Do in my cause indifferent appear.  
Faith has no safety! poorly shipwrecked here:  
I took him up, did with him share estates;  
From wrack his fleet I saved, from deaths his mates  
Furies, alas, transport me; Phoebus now,  
Now Lycian lots, jove bids his Herald bow  
With his so horrid mandates through the Air.  
And take the gods such pains? disturbs that care  
Their quiet? I nor hold thee, nor refute.  
Go with the wind, seek Latium; make pursuit  
Through waves for Crowns, I hope (if power there be  
In the good Powers) some rock will punish thee,  
Often calling Dido. In black fires I'll post,  
And dead thou shalt be followed with my Ghost.  
Tortured bad man thou'lt be, I it shall hear:  
Down to my shadow Fame this news will bear.  
At these words breaking off, heartsick she flies  
Out of the open air: and from his eyes.  
Leaves him much doubting, much prepared to say.  
Her in a swound her maids take up, convey  
There marble chamber: on her bed repose.   

Pious Aeneas, though he wished her woes  
And cares with sweeter language to remove.  
Deep-sighing, his soul fainting in great love,  
Yet heavens command fulfilled: surveyed once more  
His fleet. The Trojans plied it then, from shore  
Halling tall ships, pitched bottoms floating brought  
Green oars: and Okes out of the woods unwrought  
For haste. You may behold them trooping down,  
And rushing from all corners of the Town.   

Like Aunts, when they, huge corne-heaps pillaging  
Provision home mindful of Winter bring.  
The black troop takes the field, through grass amain  
Bears prey by narrow ways: the greater grain  
Some tug along: some, Marshalling the swarm,  
Chastise delay: the work each path doth warm.   

What horror Dido, viewing this, seized thee?  
How sigh'dst thou, from thy tower when thou didst see  
The shore all flaming? and with various sound  
Didst hear the Mariners the Sea confounded?  
O love to what canst thou not force our breasts!  
Again to melt in tears, to try requests  
Again she's forced, and yields to love again:  
Lest, something left untryd, she diesin vain.   

Anne to the shore thou seest their swift resorts  
From all parts: now the wind their canvasse courts,  
And on their poops crownes the glad Sailors set.  
Had I thought sorrow could have been thus great,  
●'d brooked it sister. Yet this one thing, Anne,  
Do for poor me: thee only that false man  
Respects, his secret sense he doth express  
To thee, thou knowst his times, and best access.  
Go sister, suppliant speak to my proud Foe.  
I swore not to the Trojan overthrow,  
In Aulis with the Greeks': nor with them sent  
My Fleet; nor tore his Father's monument.  
Why are his Ears so hard my words can force  
No entrance? whether will he bend his course?  
This last grant let him make his woeful love,  
T'expect safe flight, winds that may friendly prou  
Not now the wedlock he betrayed I crave,  
Nor that he'd lose fair Latium: Kingdoms wau  
I ask but vacant time rage to relieve:  
Until my ruin teach me how to grieve.  
I beg (pity thy sister) this last suit,  
And this obtained, Death shall make absolute.  
Thus her sad sister doth with tears assail  
●is pity often, but no tears prevail:  
●or easily he any motion hears:  
●ate bars, a god hath stopped the man's soft ears.   

And as an old strong timbered Oak, to rend  
Which blustering Northwinds of the Alps contend,  
●ossing its trunk, breathes forth a mournful sound,  
●nd leaves from th'highest branches strew the ground,  
●ast in the Rock it sticks, as much doth spread  
●'s root towards Hell, as rears to Heaven its head.  
〈◊〉 is Aeneas wrested, on this part,  
●nd that, with prayers: care shaking his great heart,  
●is soul remains unmoved, tears vainly slide.   

But wretched Dido, by fate terrified,  
wishes for death; even Heaven offends her eye.  
●o put her on to end her work, and die:  
Horrid to speak, while the Altars incense burn,  
She, offering, sees the hallowed water turn  
Black: and the wine changed to foul gore. To non●  
Not to her sister speaks this vision.  
There was i'th' house too (which she much adored)  
A marble Temple to her former Lord;  
With snowy fleeces, and leaves festival  
Hanged round: hence voices, and her husbands call  
She seemed at dead of night to hear. Alone  
The Owl o'th' house top gave a funeral groan,  
And drew forth her slow voice to shriks. Her fright  
Many an old Prophet also did excite,  
With horrid presage. In her dreams she fears  
Cruel Aeneas. Left alone sh'appeares,  
Still unattended in long ways to toil:  
To seek her Tyrians in a Desert soil.  
So in his madness, Pentheus descries  
Six Furies: two Suns, double Thebes espies.  
Orestes so from's mother in the play  
Armed with her Torch, and Snakes, doth run away:  
Whilst at the door the Furies hold their seat.   

Thus spent with miseries, with fury great,  
To die, the time, and manner she provides.  
And speaking to her sister, her look hides  
Her thoughts: hope shining in her face: drop reg've now  
Sister a way, (thy sister gratulate, thou)  
Shall give me him, or from him take fond me.  
By th'ocean's bounds the farthest Aethiops be,  
Near Sunset. where huge Atlas' shoulders turn  
Heaven's Axletree, that seems with stars to burn.  
I know a Priestesse in those Countries bred,  
Th'Hesperian Temple-keeper, that hath fed  
The Dragon: and the sacred Tree did keep,  
Sprinkling moist honey, poppy causing sleep.  
She promises to free the minds she'll please,  
By charms: but others with sad care to seize.  
To stop streams, chase back stars, makeghosts appear  
At midnight: you'll think, you th'earth groaning here  
And from the mountain's tree descending see.  
You gods, and thou dear sister witness be,  
That Magic I unwillingly prepare.  
Erect thou secretly a pile i'th' air.  
Lay on the arms, he wicked (when he fled)  
In's Chamber left: his robes, the nuptial bed  
I perished in; all that was his 'tis fit  
The fire consumes, the Priestesse told me it.  
This said, she stops: paleness invades her face.  
But Anne believes not such wild-furies chase  
Her sister, or these rites her funerals hide;  
Nor farther fears than when Sychaeus died:  
Therefore prepares her charge. Now piled up high  
Pines, cloven Okes inh ' inner Court do lie.  
The queen with garlands then the place hanged round  
And her own funerals with Cypress crowned,  
Placed his Robes, Picture, and sword left behind,  
On the bed: mindful what she had designed.   

They circled round the Altar. Chaos, Hell,  
Three hundred gods the Priestesse to her spell  
Her hair lose called. Of three-formed Hecat spoke:  
And sprinkled waters feigned oth'stigian Lake.  
By Moonlight, with brasse-sickles cut, were sought  
Young herbs, black venom in a foam: they brought  
Th' Hyppomanes, from a Colt's forehead snatched  
In foaling: and the Love oth'Mother catched.  
With leaven, and pure hands near th' Altar she,  
Her robe ungirted, one foot tied, one free,  
Dying accused Fate-knowing Gods, and stars:  
But if there be a just Power, which the jars  
Of Lovers pities, prays to that. 'Twas night,  
And wearied bodies suck't-in sleeps delight;  
To their mid-revolution stars were come:  
Woods, fields, the beasts, and gaudy birds were dumb,  
Both those about the fens, and those that keep  
The bushes, nested in still Night, with sleep  
Allayed their cares, and hearts from labour free:  
But not the afflicted Dido; never she  
Takes rest: her eyes, her breast, do entertain  
No night; cares double, mutinous, Love again  
Rebels; In a rough Sea tossed by the wind  
Of rage, she floats, and thus revolves her mind.  
What shall I do? deluded, try once more  
My Suitors? the Numidians now implore,  
Whom I so often have scorned? Trojans by Sea  
Shall I attend? and their commands obey?  
To have relieved them helps me much, and much  
Their grateful hearts my former favours touch?  
But (say I would) who'd let me? or admit  
Scorned me to their proud ships? Undone not yet  
Feelst thou, nor know'st thou perjured Troy? shall I  
Alone then, with the Sailor's triumph fly?  
Or backed with Tyre, and all my men of War  
Fellow? and post those (I scarce drew thus far)  
So Sea again: and force them sail? O not,  
Die thou deservest it, cure with wounds thy woe.  
Won with my tears, thou sister down didst weigh  
Me first with grief, and to my Foe betray.  
Might I not, matched but once, have spent my time  
Like the poor beast: freed from such care, or crime?  
And to Sychaeus dust my vow have paid?  
Such sad complaints her breaking heart invade.   

Aeneas, in'stall ship, to sail now sure,  
All things first rightly ordered, sleep secures.  
The god again returning in his sleep,  
Gives him new warning, and's old form doth keep:  
Resembling Hermes all, voice, yellow hair,  
And colour, and a body young and fair.   

Canst thou sleep (borne of Venus) in this fate?  
Fond man, dost thou not see what dangers wait  
About thee? hearest thou not th'inviting wind?  
Plots and foul crimes she quickens in her mind:  
Certain of death. Her fury now flows high.  
Fliest thou not hence, whilst thou hast power to fly?  
The Sea with Engines vexed, and torches, bright  
But burning with an inauspitious light:  
And the whole harbour shall in flames appear,  
If the next morning see thee dallying here,  
Go, go, delay not, women are unfixed.  
This said, himself with the dark night he mixed.  
Aeneas frighted by the shade, doth rise,  
Shakes off dull sleep, and to his Mates he cries,  
Awake, sit to your banks, let your sails fly  
Nimbly to Sea; A God sent from the sky  
That we should haste, and cut our Cables he  
Urges once more; Blessed God we follow thee  
What Power soe'er: again thy will w'intend;  
Be present, pleased, aid, and stars prosperous sand.  
He said. Like lightning forth his sword doth fly,  
And cuts the cables which the vessel tie.  
All burn with equáll heat, catch, rush away,  
They've left the shore, the Navy hides the sea;  
They rowing wreath the foam, brush th'azure wave,  
To earth new light now young Aurora gave,  
Whilst aged Tython's safron bed she leaves.  
When from her Watchtower first the queen perceives  
Day dawn, and with eav'n sails the Fleet proceed,  
The naked Ports, and shore of seamen freed.  
She often beats her fair breast with her hand,  
Tears her bright hair. jove! shall he pass our land?  
She said: and shall a stranger mock our Crown?  
Is not war just? shall we, and all the Town  
Pursue? Out of the Road launch Vessels, go,  
Be nimble, carry flames, hoist sail, and row.  
What's this? where am I? ah what change distracts  
Poor Dido? now thoust sense of thy ill acts,  
Thou hadst not, when 'twas time. Where's faith? o where?  
Is this the man his countries' gods did bear?  
And his old father on his shoulders save?  
Why tore I not his limbs? and to some wave  
Cast them? or sunk his Mates? or killed and dressed  
The Boy Ascanius for his father's feast.  
But fate in war is doubtful, would t'had past!  
Whom feared I dying? had I wildfire cast  
And burned his Fleet; I had the Father, Son,  
Their line extinguished, and myself in one.  
O Sun who all the busy World dost light!  
Thou juno conscious of these cares! by night  
O Hecate howl'd-for in cross ways! and all  
Furies and gods conspiring Dido's fall,  
Hear this: your justly angered powers now show,  
If impious he must reach the Land, if so  
jove have decreed it, and no wish can bar  
That end; yet vexed with a bold people's war,  
From his own Kingdom he an exile made  
Divorced from his Ascanius, may he aid  
Implore abroad, see the dishonoured ends  
Of his associates: and when, forced, he bends  
To cruel terms of peace, nor glorious reign  
Let him enjoy, nor wished for life retain:  
But die untimely, ith'sands uninterred:  
This prayer, poured out with my last blood, be heard.   

Than you of Tyre his Progeny to th'end  
Hate, and afflict: these gifts t'our ashes sand.  
Be love, nor league betwixt your Sovereignty's:  
But from our bones may some revenger rise,  
Who Trojans may with fire and sword pursue,  
Now, long hence: still as time shall strength renew.  
Be shore to shore, to waves waves adverse be:  
Fight they and theirs for ever, cursed by me.  
This says; & turns her thoughts, all ways, to break  
The thread of life: then briefly she doth speak  
To Barce, her Sychaeus nurse, (her own  
In her old Country now black dust was grown)  
Nurse, call my Sister, waters from the spring  
I long should sprinkle me: wish her to bring  
The Beasts; and purifying things set down:  
So let her come. Thy temples see thou crown  
With holy veil, I Pluto's rites prepare:  
And those I'll finish, and so end my care.  
The Trojans Pile a funeral flame shall waste,  
Old Barce mends her pace with limping haste,  
But Dido, wild, rolling her bloody Eyes,  
Her trembling cheeks all spots, pale ere she dies  
With thoughts of death designed, breaks open the door  
O Inner court: & furiously mounts over  
The mighty Pile, then draws the Trojan sword  
Not given for a purpose so abhorred.  
Here when his robes, and known bed she beheld,  
Here tears and memory awhile compelled  
Her stay, she laid her down: her last words spoke,  
Sweet spoils (while Fates and Gods permitted) take  
This spirit, free me in these cares made fast.  
I lived, and what course fortune gave I passed.  
Now my great soul must to the Grave go down,  
I a famed City built, did wall my Town,  
Revenge my Lord, my Brother's hopes destroy.  
Happy, alas too happy, if from Troy  
No ship had ever touched our shore. Thus she,  
Kissing the bed, die unrevenged shall we?  
But let us die, she said, thus, thus 'tis due.  
This fire from Sea may the fell Trojan view,  
And our Death's Omens take with him. She said.   

Thus her attendants found her fall'n, the blade  
Weeping her blood, her hands all stained. Than goes  
The noise through Courts, & through the City flows  
(All trembling) this sad news. The buildings sound  
with groans, & female howl, th'heavens rebound  
The woeful cries. Not less than were old Tyre,  
Or Carthage seized by th'foe: the raging fire  
Rolling over Temples and o'er men's abodes,  
Neither poor mortals sparing, nor their gods.   

Her frighted sister heard, with trembling speed,  
Beating her breast, forcing her face to bleed,  
Breaks through them: calls her dying by her name,  
Was this it sister? was this slight your aim.  
Have all these sacred rites framed this for me?  
Forsook, what shall I say? my company  
Did thy death scorn? if not, one fatal power,  
One grief had killed us both, one sword, one how'r.  
This with these hands piled I? invoke did I  
Our Country-gods? yet absent thou didst die.  
The Tyrian Lords and Commons and I found  
Death in thy death: water, I'll bathe her wound:  
And with these lips, if her, last breath yet spends,  
I'll gather it. This said, the steps sh'ascends.  
Her half-dead sister in her bosom cheers:  
And sighing with her robe the black gore clears,  
Straight Dido opes her eyes, with Death oppressed,  
And closes them. The deep wound grates her breast.   

Thrice on her elbow leaving, she would rise,  
Thrice, turning on her bed, with wand'ring eyes  
Sought high heaven's light, & having found it, groaned,  
Great juno then her tedious pains bemoaned:  
And lingering Death, from heaven her Iris sent  
T'vnknit her joints, her struggling soul to vent.  
For (since by fate, nor Death deserved sh'expired  
But wretched ere her time, with fury fired)  
Yet Proserpina had not ta'en from her crown  
Her yellow hair: nor doomed her head yet down.   

So dewy rose-winged Iris, having won  
Thousand strange colours from the adverse Sun  
Slides down: stands on her head, I bear this, charged,  
Sacred to Dis: be from this flesh enlarged:  
Thus says, and cuts her hair; together slides  
All heat, and into wind her spirit glides.   
FINIS.