An Excellent BALLAD, ENTITLED, The Wand'ring Prince of Troy,  
To an excellent Tune, called, Queen Dido, etc.  
 

WHen Troy town for ten years' wars,  
withstood the Greeks in manful wise,  
Then did their Foes increase so fast,  
that to resist none could suffice:  
Wast lies those walls that was so good,  
And corn now grows where Troy town stood.   

Aeneas, wand'ring Prince of Troy,  
when he for Land long time had sought,  
At length arrived with great joy,  
to mighty Carthage walls was brought;  
Where Dido Queen, with sumptuous feast,  
Did entertain her wand'ring Guest.   

And as in hall at meat they sat,  
the Queen desirous news to hear,  
Of thy unhappy ten years' wars,  
declare to me, thou Trojan dear,  
Thy heavy hap, and chance so bad,  
That thou poor wand'ring Prince hast had?   

And then anon this worthy Knight,  
with words demure, as he could well,  
Of his unhappy ten years' wars  
so true a tale began to tell;  
With words so sweet, and sighs so deep,  
That oft he made them all to weep.   

And then a thousand sighs he fetched,  
and every sigh brought tears amain,  
That where he sat the place was wet,  
as if he had seen those wars again:  
So that the Queen with truth therefore,  
Said, Worthy Prince, enough no more.   

The darksome night apace grew on,  
and twinkling stars i'th' sky was spread,  
And he his doleful tale had told,  
as every one lay in their bed,  
Where they full sweetly took their rest,  
Save only Dido's boiling breast;   

This silly Woman never slept,  
but in her chamber all alone,  
As one unhappy always kept,  
unto the wall she made her moan,  
That she should still desire in vain,  
The thing that she could not obtain.   

And thus in grief she spent the night,  
till twinkling stars from skies were fled,  
And Phoebus with his glimmering beams  
through misty clouds appeared red:  
Then tidings came to her anon,  
That all the Trojan ships were gone.   

And then the Queen with bloody knife,  
did arm her heart as hard as stone,  
Yet somewhat loath to lose her life,  
in woeful case she made her moan;  
And rolling on her careful bed,  
With sighs and sobs these words she said,   

O wretched Dido, Queen! quoth she,  
I see thy end approacheth near;  
For he is gone away from thee,  
whom thou didst love and hold so dear:  
Is he then gone, and passed by?  
O heart, prepare thyself to die.   

Though reason would thou shouldst forbear,  
to stop thy hand from bloody stroke;  
Yet fancy said thou shouldst not fear,  
who fettered thee in Cupid's yoke.  
Come Death, quoth she, and end the smart;  
And with these words she pierced her heart.   

When Death had pierced the tender heart  
of Dido, Carthaginian Queen,  
And bloody knife did end the smart,  
which she sustained in woeful teen:  
Aeneas being shipped and gone,  
Whose flattery caused all her moan.   

Her funeral most costly made,  
and all things finished mournfully,  
Her body fine in mould was laid,  
where it consumed speedily;  
Her Sister's tears her tomb bestrewed,  
Her Subjects grief their kindness showed.   

Then was Aeneas in an Isle  
in Greece, where he lived long space;  
Whereas her Sister in short time  
writ to him to his foul disgrace;  
In phrase of letter to her mind,  
She told him plain he was unkind:   

Falsehearted Wretch, quoth she, thou art,  
and treacherously thou hast betrayed  
Unto thy lure a gentle Heart,  
which unto thee such welcome made:  
My Sister dear, and Carthage Joy,  
Whose folly wrought her dire annoy.   

Yet on her deathbed when she lay,  
she prayed for thy prosperity,  
Beseeching God, that every day  
might breed thee great felicity.  
Thus by thy means I lost a Friend;  
Heavens send thee untimely end.   

When he these lines, full fraught with gall,  
perused had, and weighed them right,  
His lofty courage than did fall,  
and strait appeared in his sight  
Queen Dido's Ghost, both grim and pale,  
Which made this valiant Soldier quail.   

Aeneas, quoth this grifly Ghost,  
my whole Delight, while I did live,  
Thee of all Men I loved most,  
my fancy and my will did give:  
For entertainment I thee gave.  
Unthankfully thou dig'st my grave:   

Therefore prepare thy fleeting soul  
to wander with me in the air,  
Where deadly grief shall make it howl,  
because of me thou took'st no care:   

Delay no time, thy glass is run,  
Thy day is past, thy death is come.   

O stay a while, thou lovely Spirit,  
be not so ready to convey  
My soul into eternal night,  
where it shall ne'er behold bright day:  
O do not frown! thy angry look,  
Hath made my breath my life forsook.   

But woe is me, it is in vain,  
and bootless is my dismal cry,  
Time will not be recalled again,  
nor you surcease before I die▪  
O let me live to make amends,  
Unto some of thy dearest Friends.   

But seeing thou obdurate art,  
and will no pity to me show,  
Because from thee I did depart,  
and left unpaid what I did owe▪  
I must content myself to take  
What lot thou wilt with me partake▪   

And like one being in a trance,  
a multitude of ugly Fiend's  
About this woeful Prince did dance,  
no help he had of any Friends:  
His body than they took away,  
And no Man knew his dying-day.    

Entered according to Order.   

LONDON: Printed by and for W. O. and sold by Y. Wa 〈…〉 at the Hand and Pen in High Holbourn.