THE PASSION OF DIDO FOR AENEAS. As it is Incomparably expressed in the Fourth Book of Virgil. TRANSLATED By Edmund Waller & Sidney Godolphin. Esqrs. — Ubi quid datur otî Illudo chartis: hoc est mediocribus illis Ex vitiis unum— Horat. l. Sat. 4 ●. LONDON, Printed, and are to be sold by Peter Parker, at the Leg and Star over against the Royal Exchange in Cornhill, 1679. The Argument. DIdo was espoused a virgin to Sichaeus; and both lived happy in their mutual love, until her brother Pygmalion, who was then King of Tyre, the place of their abode, by some close treachery slew Sichaeus in hopes to possess his great wealth, and to dispose of his Wife; All which, her husband's ghost appearing in her sleep, discovered; telling her also where he had hid a considerable treasure, of which Pygmalion knew not. This she took, and, in the company of such friends she could best trust, and most hated the Tyrant; fled from thence to seek her fortune in some safer place. At length arriving on the shore of Lybia, partly for money, partly by the favour of some neighbour-Princes, affected with her beauty, and the hope to obtain her in marriage, she got possession of that ground where the famous City of Carthage was afterwards built; whose foundation she had not only laid, but made some good progress in the structure; when the wand'ring Trojan Aeneas was by Tempest Shipwrackt on some part of her dominion. His great Fame, good mine, and well relating of his story, prevailed so with her that she not only repaired his Ships, and feasted him and his Company with great magnificence; but let him so far into her affection, That she esteemed him, (at least did not doubt but to make him) her husband. When his necessary pursuit of other designs occasioned his sudden Departure, and her Tragedy. This fourth book describing only her passion, deep sense of his ingratitude, and her death, has been always esteemed the best piece of the best of Poets; has been translated into all Languages, and in our days at least ten times by several Pens, into English. It is freely left to the Reader; which he will prefer. This was done (all but a very little) by that incomparable person as well for virtue as wit, Mr. Sidney Godolphin only for his own divertion, and with less care, than so exact a judgement as his would have used, if he had intended it should have ever been made public. THE PASSION OF DIDO FOR AENEAS. Translated out of the fourth Book Of VIRGIL. MEan while the Queen fanning a secret fire, In her own breast revolves her deep Desire she oft reflects upon the princely grace Of great Aeneas, and that noble race From whence he springs; her wounded fancy feeds On his discourse, his high Heroic deeds, His words his looks, her waking thoughts employ, And when she sleeps, she sees him with more joy, But seldom sleeps: For when the shades of night Had left their Empire to the rising Light, Folding her Sister in her arms, she says, What unacquainted thoughts, what dreams are these▪ How great a Guest within our walls we hold, How wise in Counsel, and in Arms how bold? The mortal seed of man acknowledge fear But this brave Prince his equal mind doth bear Above all Chance. Did not my changeless vow And mine own will engage me to allow No other Love; my first Affection dead And with the Soul of my Sichaeus fled: Were not all joys grown tastlesse, and the name Of Love offensive, since I lost that flame; I might perhaps indulge this one desire. For, Anna, I confess since funeral fire Embraced Sichaeus, this first beam of Light Hath offered comfort to so dark a night, Unwonted motions in my thoughts retrieved, I find and feel the brand of care revived. But may the earth, while yet alive, devour This hapless frame, and Jove his thunder pour Upon my head, and sink me to that shade That silent deep, whence no return is made▪ Before I do those sacred Knots untie, Which bind me to so dear a memory. He first unto my soul this ardour gave, And may he hold it in his quiet grave, This said, she weeps afresh. Anna replies, O Chiefly Loved and Dearer than mine eyes, Sad and alone for ever will you waste Your verdant youth, nor nature's bounties taste In their due-season? think you that the dead In their cold urns welcome the tears we shed? What though no prayers have yet had power to move Your thoughts to entertain a second love; Yet will you now with your own heart contest? Nor give admittance to a pleasing guest? Consider where this new Plantation lies, And amidst whom these wall● of Carthage rise: Here the Getulians, fierce Numidians there, On either side engage your watchful fear. Propitious Heaven's it seems, and Juno lead These Trojans here with so desired an aid: This match will mix your fortunes and advance The Tyrian State above all force or chance. Invoke the powers above, with so●t delay Engage the Dardan Prince to longer s●ay: Till the swollen Seas and winds their fury spend, And Calmer Gales his purposes attend. This speech revives the Courage of the Dame And through her burning veins dilates the flame. First to the holy temple they repair And seek indulgence from above by praire: Law-giving Ceres, Phoebus they invoke, But above all do Venus' Altars smoke Propitious to the bands of Love; the Queen With her own hands, the Heifer's horns between, Pours the full bowls, or midst the sacrifice Intentive walks, as the rich Odours rise Fresh gifts she brings, and with a thought full brain Surveys the panting Livers of the slain; Blind prophecies, Vain Altars, bootless Prayer How little help they? while so near a care Presses the Queen and mingled with her blood Spreads secret poison through the purple ●●oud. The Hapless Dido is enraged by love, And with uncertain thoughts doth wildly move. So when a Shepherd's roving Arrows find And pierce (to him unknown) some careless Hind She flies through woods and seeks the streams oppressed The deadly Arrow rankles in her breast. Now to the Walls she leads her Trojan Chief, And with this food she entertained her grief Shows the Sidonian-wealth, and, as she speaks, Her own discourse by care diverred breaks; The evening closes with another ●east And there again sh'invites the princely Guest To tell his dangers past, and there again She drinks together deeper Love and Pain. But when the Prince (nights darker ensign spread And sleepy dew upon all Mortails shed) Doth bid farewell, she waking there alone Deserted mourns that her Dear Guest is gone▪ Or keeps Ascanius in her Arms, to prove If likeness can delude her restless Love. Mean while her stately structures slowly rise, Halfe-finisht Carthage rude and broken lies. That high design, to heaven exalted frame, Confused appears, and li●e a ruin lame. Which when surveyed by Juno from above And that the Queen neglects her fame for love▪ Approaching Venus, thus Saturnia says: What ample Trophies, neverdying praise, To you and to your Cupid will be paid? That two such Gods one woman have betrayed. I know with what design you used this Art Planting Aeneas thus in Dido's heart, Suspecting lest these walls of Ours might prove Faithless to him if not secured by Love▪ But shall this partial quarrel never cease? May we not now ●ixe on eternal peace? Fair Dido loves and feels your golden Dart; Give but like ardour to Aeneas Heart, And we will rule this State with equal power, And give the Trojan Carthage for a Dower. Venus' replies (seeing the wife of Jove To cross the height of Roman greatness strove With this deceit), What madness can refuse Friendship with you where you a friendship choose? But whether Jove will favour this design And the great people in one Empire join; This in your prayers, who are his wife, doth lie. Juno returns; Impose this task on me, For what is now in hand let this suffice. The Trojan Prince with his unhappy prize The wounded Queen, to chase the flying Dear Soon as the beams of Morning-light appear Hyes to the Fields; there, on the goodly train A darkening shower I'll pour of hail and rain, Shake heaven with thunder, while the pale troop rid● Dispersed with fear and lo●t without a guide: One Cave in her dark bosom shall afford Shelter to Dido and the Trojan Lord, And if, as I, propitious to their love You shine; this shall their Hymeneal prove; All rites shall here be done. Venus with smiles Consents, but laughs within, at Juno's wiles. The morning come, early at light's first ray The gallant youth rise with the cheerful day: ●harp Javelins in their hands, their Coursers by They walk amidst the hound's impatient Cry: Nearer the gates the Tyrian Peers artend, And wait the Queen now ready to descend. Her prouder Steed as filled with high disdain stamps the dull Earth, & Chaws the frothy Rhine. Mounted at last, her golden Quiver on ●y'd up with gold, her Hair which gold-like shone Her purple garment, clasped with gold, in head Of her fair troop, the brighter Queen doth lead With these the Trojans, and their great Chief close As one fair stream into another flows. He like Apollo in his light and heat When he returns unto his Native ●ear Of Delos, and fresh verdure doth restore Forsaking Xanthus and the Lycian shore Thus he on Cynthus tops, his own retreat Securely walks, thus welcome and thus great ●he Dryop●ans and the Cretans by, ●o doth his quiver clash; not less than he Aeneas shines, like beauty's in his face And in his motions like attractive grace. While thus they climb the pathless hills, the cry ●ursuesthe fearful herds which headlong fly ●own to the vales, and on the boundless plain 〈◊〉 longer chase in view of all maintain. But glad Ascanius spurs his willing horse ●ow these, now those, out-passing in the Course. He wishes some incensed Boar his prey, Or Lion from the Hills would Cross his way. Mean while the gathering Clouds obscure th● Po●● They flash out lightning and in Thunder roll: A bitter storm succeeds, the troops divide And o'er the Hills dispersed to Coverts ride. One Cave in her dark bosom doth afford Shelter to Dido and the Trojan Lord. Heaven shines with fire, earth shakes at this success The Conscious air is filled with Prodigies. This was the hour, which gave the fatal blow, The pregnant spring of all succeeding woe. Tender respects no more have power to move The hapless Queen, no more she hides her love, But doth her Crime express with Hymen's name, And lives exposed a Theme to various fame. Fame the most swift of ills, which in her course And motion spreads, and flying gathers force Sprung from a scarce discerned seed, doth tread On the Low ground, but lifts to heaven her head. She (as 'tis said) was of that monstrous birth The latest Sister, which the teeming earth Brought forth, to war with heaven itself alone; Surviving all her brothers overthrown. Thousands of plumes advance her easy flight, As many eyes enlarge her piercing sight, As many ears to catch reports, and then As many tongues to spread those tales again, The silent night cannot the voice allay Of this ill boding Dame, in the bright day She sits upon the City walls a spy And takes delight all fears to multiply: She now through Lybia's Empire doth diffuse Talk of Aeneas, and th'unwelcome news Of Dido's love, that he late fled from Troy Such envied power and greatness doth enjoy. This the leight Dame proclaims in every Ear And to jarbas doth the message bear; jarbas who had felt fair Dido's scorn, Jove's Son of ravished Garamant is born, Who hallowed had to his great father's name An hundred altars, which together flame With ceaseless incense to the powers above, Eternal fires pledges of humble love. Mad with the news, the Lybian Monarch lays Prostrate himself before the Throne, and says; All powerful Jove, propitious to the Moors Whom Lybia more than any Land adores Beholdest thou this? or doth in vain our fear Ascribe just vengeance to the Thunderer? She, who a stranger with out leave have gained Possession here, from us the power obtained To plant a Town, hath thought herself above The prize and merit of our Ardent Love; Yet now with joy receives into our Land The flying Trojan and his Conquered band, Resigns to him her beauty, fame, and power, Prefers the Phrygian to the scorned Moor. Is this our pay, our recompense, while we Consume our flocks in sacrifice to thee? While thus he pours his grief before the shrines And Sacred Altars; mighty Jove inclines, Looking on Carthage and the amorous pair Who in their pleasure quench all nobler care. He thus bespeaks his swift Ambassador; Go, Son, and high thee to the Tyrian shore And to the Dardan Prince (whose generous fire Is now betrayed by Love, and low desire) This message bear, 'Twas not this destiny His fairest Mother promised us when she Preserved him from the powerful Arms of Grece; She gave us then far other hopes then these, That he from conquered Alba should extend His Empire to the World's remotest end, And spread the fame of Teucer's mighty race. If in his thoughts these honours have no place, If he have lost all sense of high renown; Ah can he yet envy the Towers of Rome To his Ascanius and fair Latium's sway? This message to the Phrygian Prince convey, And bid him hoist his sails▪ Swift Mercury Takes the command, and through the Air doth fly His shining wings of Gold, and in his hand The Ensign, of his power, his sacred wand; That wand which long-closed eyes doth bless with light And seals up others in erernall night. With this he cuts the Air, and yielding Clouds; At length sees Atlas' top, Atlas which shrouds His pine-crowned head in Heaven, and doth sustain Incessant storms of new formed wind and rain. Here first he stoops low as the earth, and then Employs his wings with all their speed again: Till the vast seas orepast and Lybia's sands He slacks his Course at Carthage, and there Lands. Where when arrived he finds the Trojan King Viewing the Walls, intent in ordering The strength and beauty of the new-raised Town To whom the winged Cyllenius thus begun: Ah, too, too mindless of your own affairs, Your thoughts immersed in less concerning cares, Can you in Tyrian wealth and greatness joy? And Carthage build, forgetful of your Troy? Great Jove, who rules and fills the spacious All The evermoving Spheres, the fixed Ball, Sends me to ask, With what unblessed design You do the hopes of better fates resign, And glory due to Teucer's mighty race: If in your thoughts these honours have no place, If you have lost all sense of high renown; Ah, can you yet envy the towers of Rome To your Ascanius, and fair Latium's sway? Hermes (this said) returns the eyrie way He came; but cold Amazement doth surprise Aeneas speechless tongue and fixed Eyes: His pious fears urge him in haste to fly The too Loved Land and dear captivity. But this resolved, what way is left t'infuse Th'unhappy Queen with this unwelcome news? A thousand counsels wander in his mind Now here, now there, successively inclined This he prefers, he calls Eurylochus The bold Cloanthus, trusted Mnestheus, Gives them in charge that they the fleet prepare Gather their troops but yet disguise their care That he mean while will to the Queen impart At some fit time his much divided heart: Or when his Canvas-wings are spread to fly Impute to heaven the sad Necessity. Thus he resolves and thus commands these Peers But nothing can escape the wakeful fears Of the enamoured Queen, whose tender breast Presages all, by the first change impressed Before the ill arrives: already Fame (Which lately did the Lybian Prince inflame) Now takes delight to spread this ill report, That the glad Phygians ●o their ships resort Preparing flight. The Jealous Queen pursues Through every part the much amazing news. The more she hears, the more enraged with grief She thus at last invades the Trojan Chief. Could thy dissembling heart consent to fly This Hated Land in cruel secrecy? Perfidious man, canst thou so soon remove The bands of vows, and dearer bands of Love? Nor spare one word? nor shed one tear to save My Life descending to the cruel grave? Why yet in Winter to the storming Maine Dost thou expose thy wand'ring slcet again? Cruel and false! didst thou not seek a land Unknown? did now the Ancient Ilium stand, Were this a time through hazards such as these To seek thy Troy through Winter winds and Seas? Whom dost thou fly? By these unfeigned tears I do adjure thee, by these loving fears, By my own life, or (what is more) by thine, By all that hath obliged Thee yet of mine, Pity my fall, and show at least some grace To these my prayers, if prayers may yet have place, For thee, the hate and envy I support Of the Numidians and the Lybian Court; For thee I have displeased my Own, and lost That modesty, which I alone could boast; That better fame, by which I had survived My funeral fire and after death had lived. What have I left, or whither shall I fly? Shall I attend Pigmalion's cruelty? Or till jarbus do in fetters Led The proud despiser of his love and bed? I never could have thought myself undone, Had but kind Heaven indulged me with a Son Resembling thee, in whose (though Childish) face I might retrieve thy Look and princely grace. Sad Dido pauses here. The Trojan Chief Restrains within the motions of his grief, Then thus replies; You never can repeat, Great Queen, the sum of my unquestioned Debt. Nor while my active Soul informs this frame, Ever shall I forget Eliza's Name. I urge no more, Let it suffice that I In thankless silence never meant to fly; Nor did I ever to those bonds pretend Which now you charge me as a faithless friend; Had I been trusted to design my fate, When Troy betrayed fell by the Grecians hate, I from the ashes of that dear-loved Town Had there restored another Ilium. But now the Lycian Oracle commands, A pollo now assigns th' Ausonian Lands, And thither bids us send our thoughts and care And only fix our expectation there, Fair Carthage you and your own work survey A stranger born a foreign Sceptre sway. And shall it be a crime (ah lass!) if we Desire at last to rest in Italy? No night doth pass in which I do not see The old Anchises image beckoning me; Nor is there day in which I not reflect On my Ascanius, and that loved aspect To whom by fate th' Hesperian Town is due. Hither of late Jove's winged Herald flew Nor did he in delusive Dreams appear; A wake, I did the angry message hear. Then fairest Queen do not this fate withstand, Unwillingly I leave your Happy Land. While thus he talks, the much distempered Dame Incensed within, breaks forth into this flame. Nor were't thou of the gentle Goddess breed, Nor art thou sprung from great Anchises seed, Perfidious man! but from some savage stock Hewn from the Marble of some Mountain Rock For why should I disguise this height of ill And still deceived expect new favour still? Did he let fall one pitying word, one tear? Or did he with one sigh my passion hear? What shall I do? for now alas, I see That neither Juno daignes to favour me, Nor Jove himself looks down with equal eyes, The earth is faithless, faithless are the skies. Shipwrackt and cast upon the barren shore, Pursued by cruel fates, forsaken, poor, I gave thee harbour in my simple breast Ah ill-advised, ah too-unmindfull guest I saved thy fleet, thy friends, and faithless Thee; But now (for sooth) Apollo's Augury The Oracles are urged to incite, And angry Jove commands thy sudden flight, Is Heaven concerned? doth care of humane fate Disturb the calmness of th' Immortal State? Thou hearst me not, regardless of my cry, Go then and through the Seas seek Italy, Through the deaf Seas and through the angry Wind, And such compassion as thou usest find: There mayst thou call on Dido's name in vain, I'll follow thee, be present in thy pain. And when cold death shall this mixt-frame divide, My Ghost shall lackey by thy frighted side, Thou dearly shalt repent; the news of this Shall overtake my soul, and give it bliss. Nor waiting answer from the Prince she flies, And wishes she had power to shun all eyes But fainting soon and to her chamber led She threw herself upon her Ivory bed. Pious Aeneas, though his noble breast Softened by love was with much grief oppressed, Though fain he would with gentle words assuage The Queen's high passion and divert her rage, Suspends not yet his Heaven-inspired care But does his fleet without delay prepare. The Trojans ply the work, the busy Maine Is filled with noise, the Ships now float again: On every side are seen descending down Long troops which bring provision from the Town. So when the winter-fearing Ants invade Some heaps of Corn the Husbandman had made; The Sable Army marches, and with prey Laden return, pressing the Leafy way, Some help the weaker, and their shoulders lend, Others the order of the march attend, Bring up the troops, and punish all delay. What were thy thoughts, sad Dido, on that day? How deep thy sighs? when from thy Tower above Thou seest the Phrygians in such order move And hearest the Tumult of the Clamorous Sea. All-conquering Love! who can resist thy sway? Once more the Queen to humble tears descends, And Language to her grief once more she lends, That she might leave no remedy untried Nor Counsel unexplored, before she died. Anna, she said, thou seest the peopled Sea, The Phrygians now their fatal Anchors weigh Ready to lose; I feel their great Chief's scorn Which if foreseen I might perhaps have born. But now I make this one, this last request, You in this faithless man have interest You know his gentlest times, and best can find What ways are left to mollify his mind. Go then and use all Pity-moving Art And if you can soften his harder heart. Not I at Aulis, did with Greece conspire Nor did I bring one brand to Troy's last fire I never rend Anchises Honoured Tomb, Why should he then my sad entreaty shun? I do not urge (as once) our marriage ties Those sacred bonds which now he does despise, Nor that he would fair Italy resign I only ask respite, and breathing time, Till my dejected mind learn to comply (Taught by degrees) with so great misery. ¶ All this her weeping Sister does repeat To the stern man, whom nothing could entreat. Lost here her prayers and fruit less were her tears, Fate and great Jove had stopped his gentle Ears. As when loud winds a well-grown Oak would rend Up by the roots, this way and that they bend His reeling Trunk, and with a boisterous sound Scatter his leaves and strew them on the ground: He fixed stands, as deep his root dothly Down to the Centre as his top is high. No less on every side the Hero pressed Feels Love and pity shake his noble breast. And down his Cheeks though fruitless tears do roll, Unmoved remains the purpose of his soul. Then Dido urged with approaching fate Begins the light of cruel Heaven to hate; Her resolution to dispatch and die Confirmed by many a horrid prodigy. The water consecrate for sacrifice Appears all black to her amazed eyes The wine to putrid blood converted flows Which from her, none, not her own sister knows. Besides there stood as sacred to her Lord A marble Temple which she much adored, With snowy fleeces and fresh garlands Crowned, Hence every night proceeds a dreadful sound. Her husband's voice invites her to his Tomb And dismal Owls presage the ills to come, Besides, the prophesies of Wizards old Increased her terror and her fall foretold, Scorned and deserted to herself she seems And finds Aeneas cruel in her dreams, So, to mad Pentheus, double Thebes appears, And furies howl in his distempered ears. Orestes so with like Distraction tossed Is made to fly his Mother's angry ghost. Now grief and fury at their height arrive, Death she decrees, and thus does it contrive. Her grieved Sister with a cheerful grace (Hope well-dissembled shining in her face) She thus deceives. (Dear Sister) let us prove The cure I have invented for my love. Beyond the Land of Aethiopia lies The place where Atlas doth support the skies; Hence came an old Magician that did keep Th' Hesperian fruit, and made the Dragon sleep. Her potent charms do troubled souls relieve And where she lists, makes calmest minds to grieve, The course of Rivers or of Heaven can stop, And call trees down from th'airy mountains top. Witness the Gods, and thou my dearest part, How loath am I to tempt this guilty Art. Erect a pile, and on it let us place That bed where I my ruin did embrace. With all the relics of our impious guest, Arms, spoils, and presents; Let the Pile be dressed, (The knowing-woman thus prescribes) that we May rouz the man out of our memory; Thus speaks the Queen, but hides the fatal end For which she doth those sacred rites pretend. Nor worse effects of grief her Sister thought Would follow, than Sychaeus murder wrought, Therefore obeys her; and now heaped high The Cloven Oaks and lofty Pines do lie, Hung all with wreaths and flowery Garlands round; So by herself was her own funeral Crowned. Upon the top, the Trojan image lies, And his sharp Sword wherewith anon she dies. They by the altar stand, while with loose hair The Magic Prophetess begins her prayer On Chaos, Erebus, and all the Gods, Which in th'infernal shades, have their abodes She loudly calls besprinkling all the room With drops supposed from Lethe's lake to come. She seeks the knot which on the forehead grows Of newfoaled Colts, and herbs by moonlight mows. A Cake of Leven in her pious hands Holds the devoted Queen and barefoot stands, One tender foot was bare, the other shod, Her robe ungirt, invoking every God And every power, if any be above Which takes regard of ill-requited love. Now was the time when weary mortals steep Their careful temples in the dew of sleep. On seas on earth, and all that in them dwell A deathlike quiet, and deep silence fell, But not on Dido, whose untamed mind Refused to be by sacred night confined. A double passion in her breast does move Love and fierce anger for neglected Love, Thus she afflicts her soul, What shall I do With fate inverted, shall I humbly woe? And some proud Prince in wild Numidia born Pray to accept me and forget my scorn? Or shall I with th' ungrateful Trojan go, Quit all my state, and wait upon my Foe? Is not enough by sad experience known, The perjured race of false Laomedon? With my Sidonians shall I give them chase? Bands hardly forced from their native place? No, die, and let this sword thy fury tame, Nought but thy blood can quench thy guilty flame. Ah Sister! vanquished with my passion thou Betrayd'st me first, dispensing with my vow. Had I been constant to Sycheus still And single-lived, I had not known this ill. Such thoughts torment the Queen's enraged breast, While the Dardanian does securely rest In his tall ship for sudden flight prepared, To whom once more the Son of Jove appeared: Thus seemed to speak the youthful Deity, Voice, Hair, and Colour all like Mercury. Fair Venus' seed! Canst thou indulge thy sleep? Nor better guard in such great danger keep, Mad by neglect to lose so fair a wind? If here thy ships the purple morning find, Thou shalt behold this hostile harbour shine With a new fleet, and fire, to ruin thine. She meditates revenge resolved to die, Weigh anchor quickly, and her fury fly. This said, the God in shades of Night retired Amazed Aeneas with the warning fired Shakes off dull sleep, and rousing up his men, Behold! the Gods command our flight again, Fall to your oars, and all your Canvas spread, What God soever that thus vouchsaf'st to lead We follow gladly and thy will obey, Assist us still smoothing our happy way, And make the rest propitious. With that word He cuts the Cable with his shining sword; Through all the Navy doth like ardour reign They quit the shore and rush into the Main Placed on their banks, the lusty Trojan sweep Nuptunes' smooth face, and cleave the yielding deep. Aurora now leaving her watery bed, Colours the East with a presaging Red; Soon as the Dawn began to clear the sky, Down to the shore the sad Queen cast her Ay; Where when she doth the empty port survey, And now the fleet with wings displayed at Sea, Her hands held up, her golden tresses torn, Must we, says she, of force endure this scorn? Can we not have recourse to arms? not meet This fraud with fraud? not burn this wicked fleet? Hast fly, pursue, row, and let every hand Snatch up with speed some swift revenging brand. Where am I now? alas what words are these How late this hope? see how they plow the seas, Unhappy Dido! cruel fate devours Thy wretched Life, thou feelest the angry powers, This rage had once been f●tter than thy love, See how he doth his far-famed faith approve! He who through burning Ilium (as they say) Did bear his Country gods untouched away, Who through the flames the old Anchises led, Why saw I not the perjured Villain dead? Why did I not on slain julus' feast And at that banquet make the Father guest? Suppose there had been doubt in the success What could I fear of all left comfortless? I should have ruined all, Father and Son, And the whole stock, and then myself among. Thou Sun who with thy light dost all survey, And Juno, witness to that fatal day, Which sealed our loves, revengeful Hecat●, And all ye powers that see Eliza die Receive these prayers, if, all sea-dangers past, The Trojan needs must reach some shore at last; If nothing can withstand this fixed decree, A peaceful land yet may he never see. War entertain him and a haughty foe And may he never one calm slumber know. Hatred pursue him, furies give him chase And rend Iülus from his dear embrace; Himself at last without a grave exposed A prey to Vultures in no urn enclosed. I form my latest breath into this prayer: And ò ye Tyrians be it then your care T' afflict with war this race in time to come, And send such bloody offerings to my Tomb. Our seas their seas, our shores their shores oppose, Our arms their arms, and be our Children foes: Here sighing deep revolving in her mind, What way she might the freeest passage find From hated life. Bercea standing by Nurse to Sycheus; Dearest nurse, says she, Go call my Sister, tell her I prepare The magic rites, ordained to heal my care. But be she first with water sprinkled thrice And with her bring th'appointed sacrifice. And you, with pious wreaths your temples bound, Enter the circle of the holy ground: I'll give the Trojans Image to the fire, As that consumes so shall my grief expire. The aged Nurse obeys with trembling haste And now the Queen all bounds of sorrow past Her heart oppressed, her Visage wan and pale And her whole mind bend on her funeral, Goes to the place, where stood the sacred Pile; And here diverted by her grief a while Melted in tears, at first she doth behold The Trojans Image, sword, and robes of gold. Dear relics, says she, while the powers above Were so content, the objects of my love, But now my sad reproaches; at that word She mounts the Pile, and draws the shining sword. What 'tis to live, enough says she I know; And to the will of fate I nothing ow. Nor shall I now a worthless Ghost descend, Having with honour first revenged my friend, Built him a stately Town, happy and more Had the false Trojan never touched this shore. Then lifting up her hands to strike, shall I Dye unrevenged she says, however die. Forsaken thus, thus to the shades I hast, And blot out all remembrance of the past. May the false Trojan see these flames from far And in his thoughts the fatal omen bare! With this the blood came rushing from her side Deep in her breast the reeking sword was died. Her frighted Servants in distraction run And with their Cries they fill th'amazed Town. Such is the noise when the prevailing foes Enter a breach and slaughter overflows. Her frantic Sister with a furious pace Pierced to the heart comes running to the place. Ah Dearest! says she, was this fraud for me These altars dressed, for such a tragedy? Why was I not invited to thy fate, Nor made thy Partner in thy worst estate? Ah! you have slain yourself and me and all People and Nobles in one funeral. O give me leave, if yet you not resign Your latest breath, to suck that soul with mine. With that she doth the high raised Pile ascend And weeping doth embrace her dying friend, Thrice on her arms the Queen supports her head And thrice again falls grovelling on her bed. Thrice with disclosed eyes she seeks the light And thrice with sighing folds again her sight. Then Juno looking with a pitying eye Upon so sad and lasting misery Since deepest wounds can no free passage give To self-destroyers who refuse to live Sent Iris down to cut the fatal hair Which done, her whole life vanished into Air; FINIS.