A proper Ballad, entitled, The wand'ring Prince of Troy.  
To the tune of, Queen Dido.  
 
 

WHen Troy Town for ten years' wars,  
withstood the Greeks in manful wise,  
Yet did their foes increase so fast.  
that to resist none could suffice:  
Wast lie those walls that were so good,  
And Corn now grows where Troy Town stood   

Aeheas' 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 this wand'ring Guest.   

And as in Hall at meat they sat,  
the Queen desiring news to hear.  
Of thy unhappy ten year's war,  
declare to me thou Trojan dear,  
The heavy hap and chance so bad,  
That thou poor wand'ring Prince hast had.   

And then anon this comely Knight,  
with words demure as he could well,  
Of his unhappy ten year's wars,  
so true a tale began to tell,  
With words so sweet and sighs so deep,  
As 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  
〈◊〉 ●●●●kling stars i●●… skies were spread,  
As he his doleful tale had told,  
and every one lay in his 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 wept,  
and to the walls she made her moan,  
That she should still desire in vain,  
The thing which she could not obtain.   

And thus in grief she spent the night,  
till twinkling stars from skies were fled,  
And Phoebus with his glistering 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 some what loath to lose her life,  
in woeful wise she made her moan;  
And rolling on her careful bed,  
With sighs & sobs these words she said.   

O wretched Dido Queen (quoth she)  
I see thy end approaching 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 stay thy hand from bloody stroke,  
Yet fancy says thou shouldst not fear,  
who fetteredst thee in Cupid's yoke:  
Come Death (quoth she) resolve my smart,  
And with those words she pierced her heart.   
〈…〉  

WHen Death had pierced the tender heart  
of Dido, Carthaginian Queen,  
And bloody knife did end her 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 griefs their kindness showed.   

Then was Aeneas in an I'll,  
in Grecia, where he lived long space,  
Whereas her Sister in short while  
writ to him, to his foul disgrace;  
In phrase of Letters to her mind,  
She told him plain he was unkind.   

Falsehearted wretch (quoth she) thou art,  
and traitorously thou hast betrayed,  
Unto thy lure a gentle heart,  
Which unto thee such welcome made:  
My Sister dear, and Carthage joy,  
Whose folly bred her dire annoy.   

Yet on her deathbed when she lay,  
she prayed for thy prosperity,  
Béeching God that every day  
might breed thee great felicity:  
Thus by thy means I lost a friend,  
Heaven send thee such untimely end.   

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

Aeneas (quoth this 〈…〉  
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,  
Unthankefully thou dig'st my grave.   

Wherefore prepare thy fléeting 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 date is past and death is come.   

Oh stay a while thou lovely Spirit,  
be not so hasty to convey  
My Soul unto eternal night,  
where it shall ne'er behold bright day;  
Oh do not frown, thy angry look  
Hath made my breath my life forsook.   

But woe is me, it is in vain.  
and booslesse is my dismal cry,  
Time will not be recalled again,  
nor thou surcease before I die;  
O let me live to make amends  
Unto some of my dearest friends.   

But seeing thou obdurate art,  
and will not pity on me show,  
Because from thee I did departed,  
and left unpaid what I did owe;  
I must content myself to take  
What lot thou will with me partake   

And like one being in a trance,  
a multitude of ugly Friends  
About this woeful Prince did dance▪  
no help he had of any friends;  
His body than they took away.  
And no man kne● 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 day.   
FINIS.   

London Printed for E. W. in Gilt-spur s●reet