AN ESSAY Upon two of VIRGIL'S ECLOGUES, AND TWO BOOK'S OF HIS AENEIS (If this be not enough) Towards the Translation of the whole. BY JAMES HARRINGTON. Ce ne sont pas nos folies qui me font rire, Ce sont nos sagesses. — Montaigne. London, Printed by T. C. for Thomas Brewster 〈◊〉 the sign of the three Bibles at the west end of Paul's, 1658. Epistle to the READER. I Have reasoned to as much purpose as if I had rimed, and now I think shall rhyme to as much purpose as if I had reasoned. All's one, a man that hath nothing to entertain himself withal but a pen, must be contented as others be, or should be with their estates, whether narrow or plentiful. Be a man's estate as narrow as it will, his natural necessities require of the earth variety of fruits; much more doth his delight that hath a garden, that it should produce him variety of flowers. A man's study, unless it be Law or Theology, which commonly is his bread, is his garden, in which he may affirm a rose or a violet to be the best flower, and yet be unwilling it should not be furnished with greater variety. Indeed not Nature only, but her Maker is apparently delighted with variety; his plantations of heaven and earth are not endued or sowed with one, but divers influences, or seeds, and his nearer resemblance the soul of man is impregnated with divers faculties. The heavens and the earth have their seasons to play with flowers as well as to work at harvest: and the soul of man is as well endued with fancy as with reason when memory: the harvest of reason when she is predominate, is natural Theology or Philosophy, that of memory; story, and prudence: Fancy of herself (that is where the other two do not check but ohey her) produceth but a flower, which is Poetry. Others have gone farther about for the vindication of this Art, not (I think) to come the nearest way home; seeing by thus much it is clear enough that Poetry is not the wine of Devils, but a sprightly liquor infused into the soul by God himself. It is true the Devil may stumb it, but so he may reason or memory, which in this case become so much the more deadly draughts, as fraud is more poisonous than fiction, or revenge and malice then wantonness. To these arguments from reason I might add experience, exemplified in the greatest masters of the gravest Arts, as Moses, Lycurgus, and Machiavil, all sufficiently known to have exercised and delighted themselves with Poetry. I would willingly walk in my study with this horse of the Muses in my hand, and sometimes mount for my recreation, that is, if I may be allowed any thing a good seat, and not ruined with the Ladies. The career I have chosen, is that where the ring was never yet taken nor touched, so that at worst I shall but fail with the best company. In which opinion I am so confident that I am thought pleasant. Ah me. THe man's unblessed in time or season That neither thrives by rhyme nor reason. Reason hath been a sword of might. And rhyme hath been a forked dart. Reason could have subdued Sir Knight. And rhyme have reached a Lady's heart. In me alone a rhyme or reason Must either be a crime or treason. Courage. WHo writes doth launch a ship, that should not pray For calms, but winds to make her streamers play: For live she never shall, except the weather To set upon her can but wag her feather. ECLOGUES OR, PASTORALS. Argument. THe occasion of writing this Eclogue and the next was this, When after the death of Julius Caesar, slain in the Senate, Augustus his son, by a war against them that slew him, and against Anthony, had obtained the victory of them all, he divided the lands of the inhabitants of Cremona among his soldiers, merely because they had quartered his enemies, whom they were not able to resist, and the lands of Cremona not sufficing for this use, he also divided those of Mantua after the same manner, for no other reason then that Mantua was nearest Cremona. Virgil being an inhabitant of Mantua, and coming by this means to lose his patrimony, repaired unto Rome, and there by the favour of the great ones, obtained such particular respect, that he alone continued his ancient possession; which nevertheless was siezed by Arius the Centurion, who took it so ill to be removed, that if Virgil had not escaped his fury by plunging himself into the river Mincius, the Centurion had killed him. In this Eclogue the Poet represents himself by Tityrus, by Melibeus the miserable condition of those of Mantua: Which City he coucheth under the name of Galatea; under that of Amarillis, Rome; by the god he celebrateth, he means Augustus Caesar. FIRST ECLOGUE Melibus. Tityrus. Thou in the shadow of a spreading beech Dost lie along blest Tityrus, and teach The woods to echo Amarillis fair: While we, enforced to change our native air, Give up the vital breath of our sweet fields. Tityrus. O Melibeus, 'tis a god that yields Our Muse this leisure: many a tender lamb Out of our fold shall feed his holy flame. By him my wander as thou seest, By him my rural pipe plays what she list. Melibeus. In truth I do not envy, but admire What it should be for which throughout the shire They take away our lands! Ah do but see How sick I drive my goats along with me: And look you Tityrus, alas there's one Can hardly go; but now she ye and upon The naked flint in yonder hazels, where She left her twins, and all my hopes this year. This when our oaks (if we had minded) from The skies were touched, was sure enough to come. This mischief many times I heard full well Th' unhappy crow from hollow elms foretell. But Tityrus what is this god of yours? Tityrus. I thought that Rome was such a town as ours, Fool as I was, and that they used to keep Their flocks as we do here, and tended sheep: So Melibeus I compared the lambs Unto the Ewes, the kids unto their dams. But she among the City's over-tops, As doth the Cypress in a Myrtle cops. Melibeus. And what good Tityrus made you at Rome? Tityrus. Why truly when I saw the soldiers come, And here misuse us so; though late it were, And that it snowed if I but clipped my hair, I thought upon it and began to see What kind of thing it was called Liberty. This lost while I with Galatea grieved, Changing for Amarillis I retrieved: While th' other held me, I could neither spy An hope of freedom nor propriety: Though I the best of all my flock to this Had sacrificed, and sent my fattest cheese Without return to the ungrateful town. Melibeus. I mar'ld why Amarillis made such moan, It was for thee: I wondered on whose pine She'd let the apples hang, it was on thine. While Tityrus with Amarillis kept, The fountains mourned, his Galatea wept. She filled the meadows with her slighted loves, And broke the silence of resounding groves. Tityrus. What could I do? no other means I saw My servitude to shun, nor could I draw So near the gods another way. Mine eyes Here found the power to whom I sacrifice: Here first mine ears received his Oracles. Shepherd go feed thy flock, and yoke thy bulls. Melibeus. Happy old man! for this to thee, thy land Remains for ever at thy blessed command! And though some part with sedge, and some with ling Be overgrown, it is a goodly thing. Thy calves in kindly pastures shall be reared, Nor get the murrain of a foreign herd. Happy old man! here by thy native brooks, In shady valleys shalt thou hear the rooks. The Bee shall buzz with her Hyblean lays Soft sleep into thine eyes from blooming sprays. To thee shall warble the melodious rocks, While woodmen cut their browse, or hue their blocks: The groans of Turtles from the airy trees, The murmur of Quist shall join with these. Tityrus. Wherefore the sea shall drive his scaly shoals Into the woods, the stag shall browse the poles, The Parthian shall drink of Arar first, And rapid Tigris quench the Germane thirst, Ere I forget his favour or this grace. Melibeus. But we must flit unto some other place, Be on the torride zone, or frozen hurled, Or British shores divided from the world. O might I see but after many years My house of turf, my field with yellow ears. But this the impious soldier must possess, This corn the barbarous! Ah blessed peace! See Citizens what discord sows, and who Must reap! Be sure you graft your apples now And dress your vineyards. Hence no more shall I By the green arms of trees protected lie And see you far away, once happy flocks, Brouzing the shrubs and hanging on the rocks: Nor while you nibble shall I pipe your notes Sweet as your three leaved grass. Farewell my Goats. Tityrus. Yet Melibeus since the shadows now Are at their length, and smoking chimneys show 'Tis late; you may remain with us this night. Ripe chestnuts, mellow apples shall delight Your palate, we have cheese enough i'th' house, And you shall lie upon a bed of boughs. Argument. BY Meris in this Eclogue, is to be understood Virgil's Shepherd or Baylif, who carries a preseot of kids to mollify the Centurion Arius; by Menalcas is meant Virgil himself, some of whose verses Meris is wooed by Lycidas to repeat. NINTH ECLOGUE. Lycidas. Meris. Whither away good Meris, to the town? Meris. O Lycidas, the like was never known! We live to see a guest come in a doors And say, my friends, this house, these fields are ours, I pray depart! Nay, and for this (because Fortune will have obedience to her laws) Must I these kids unto his worship bear. But shall not say much good may do you Sir. Lycidas. There was a speech me thinks that since among The gallant Courtiers your Menalcas sung, They left him all his goodly fields that reach Down from the hills to the bald-pated beech. Meris. Why so they talked indeed; but songs and loves Are unto soldiers as to eagle's doves. Neither your Meris nor Menalcas now Had been alive, had the auspicious crow Out of her hollow roost not stood my friend, And warned me that I should no more contend. Lycidas. Is there such wickedness! in thee alone Menalcas all our melody had gone. Who should have sung the Nymphs? Our springs with bowers, Have clouded or have stared our fields with flowers? Who ere made verse like that I stole from thee When thou to Amarillis stolst from me! Feed Tityrus, the flock, till I return, I go not far, and drive 'em to the bourn, But driving make me not more haste than speed, The Goat is perilous with the horn, take heed. Mhris. What then were those to Varus, set by yours; Varus thy name (if Mantua be ours, Mantua whose guilt is that she is too near Cremona) swans unto the skies shall bear. Lycidas. As thou dost hope thy swarm shall scape the Ewe, Or that the honeysuckle shall endue The strutting udders of thy Cows, begin If thou hast any more, for I am in: Me have the sisters made a poet too, And this our swains throughout the fields avow; But I believe them not; such strains as these To Varus or the Muse's swans were geese. Meris. I am upon it, and if I can bring It well to mind, a noble air shall sing. Come fairest Galatea, come away. What sport is there for me where Delphins play? The purple spring here scatters, on the shores Of creeping riulets, his delicious stores. The poplar with the vine hath joining made Us party coloured bowers and cooling shade. Come lovely sea nymph from the furrowed deep, And let the shores thy flock of billows keep. Lycidas. Now that at which the sky grew clear as curds Last night; I have the tune, what are the words? Meris. Why he dst thou Dapnis antiquated signs? Behold the star of heaven born Caesar shines, Whose Mounth bestows upon the gods of bread And wine, the ruby crown and golden head. Engraft thine apples Daphnis and thy pears, The harvest shall descend upon thine heirs. You should have more, but all is gone with time: I could have brought the Sun to bed in rhyme: Now me my verses and my voice forsake; The wolf hath seen me first. But this way make You merry till Menalcas come and feast Us on our floury carpets with the rest. Lycidas. Ah thou by these haste but my flame increased. The air to hearken has his murmur ceased. The silent wave his roughness at thy feet Hath laid as smooth as glass. That we are yet But half our way Bianors tomb now shows; Here where the shepherds cut him verdant boughs Hear Meris let us sing, thy kids here lay, We shall be time enough at Mantua. Or if the moist surprise of night we fear, Sing as we go, and I the kids will bear. Meris. Good Lycidas be said; if first we bring Our work about, we shall have time to sing. A Note upon the foregoing Eclogues. THat the Roman Empire was never founded upon a sufficient balance of absolute Monarchy, is very true; but not truer than that this was the cause of that impotency and misery in the same, which oppressed both Prince and People. Wherefore (because the error is popular) I shall take this opportunity to propose unto such as place the balance or foundation of the Roman Empire in a matter of eight or ten thousand Praetorians, a few Queries. 1. Whether Tarquin made not such havoc of the Roman Nobility, as left the advantage of the balance of Dominion ten for one in the people? And whether this did not inevitably tend unto the generation of the Commonwealth? 2. Whether the Nobility when they overcame, under Sylla, held not the advantage of the balance ten for one against the people? And whether this did not inevitably tend unto the generation of Monarchy? 3. Whether Sylla did not plant forry seven Legions, or one hundred and twenty thousand Veteranes in Italy upon Lands taken in the war? Whether this precedent were not followed by the Triumvirs first, then by Augustus Caesar, as in these Eclogues? and whether this were not the balance of the Roman Monarchy? 4. Whether such Lands conferred upon the Souldery came not to be called benefices, and the incumbents beneficiaries? and whether the policy of the Turkish Timars (a word of the same signification) be not hence derived? 5. Whether Alexander Severus were not the first that granted such benefices unto the next heirs of the incumbents, but upon condition they should continue to serve the Emperor in war as formerly, otherwise not? 6. Whether Constantine the Great were not the first that made these benefices (held hitherto for life only) hereditary. 7. Whether the balance being thus ruined, the Roman Empire subsisted otherwise then by stipendiating strangers or mercenaries, as the Goths and Vandals? 8. Whether this were not the means by which the Goths and Vandals came to ruin the Roman Empire? 9 Whether the Goths and Vandals having ruined the Roman Empire, did not by their policy place the over balance of Dominion in their Nobility? and whether this were not the original of government by King, Lords, and Commons, throughout Christendom? The doctrine of the balance not sufficiently discovered or heeded by ancient Historians and Politicians, is the cause why their writings are more dark, and their judgement less steady or clear in the principles of Government then otherwise they would have been; nevertheless, he who not studying Parties, shall rightly answer these Queries out of story, must strike the inevitable light of this truth out of Nature; which once mastered, the whole mystery of Government rightly instituted, or to be rightly instituted, becometh as demonstrable and certain, or as obvious and facile, even to vulgar apprehensions, as the meanest of vulgar Arts. On the Political Balance. NAture is that preserved which God began: The soul of Empire and the soul of man (Though each of Heaven be the diviner seed) Bodies by various temper shape and feed. Where elements are strong, or where they faint, 'Tis life or death, be thou or wretch or Saint: Who other steps through blind ambition trod Invaded not the throne of Man but * As when the Balance was Popular. 1 Sam. 8.7. When Monarchial. Jer. 27.9, 10, 11. God. VIRGIL'S AENEIS. The first Book. I, He of late that on the slender oat, Sat piping to the fields an humble note; Then passing through the woods, endued the plains With vowed allegiance though to griple swains; A work with these already in the van: Now sing the horrid arms of Mars, the man Whose wand'ring fate from ruin'd a Troy. Ilium bore His painful course for the b Italy. Lavinian shore. Much was he tossed both at sea and land By Juno's wrath, and that celestial band Of powers, which in her quarrel she engaged: And much he suffered in the wars he waged, Ere he could seat his deities, or found The mother City on Italian ground; From whence our Latin predecessors come, Our Alban fathers, and our haughty Rome. O Muse record the cause, what had there been To animate the gods or grieve their Queen, That she with such a world of woe should wound The man for piety so much renowned? Can passion set even souls in heaven on fire! Carthage, an ancient City sprung from Tyre, Once for her wealth and martial arts in vogue, Against the yellow shores that disimbogue Rough Tiber, stood to Italy opposed; Juno's delight, the circle that enclosed Her heart beyond her Samos; to this plot (Where hung her arms, where stood her chariot) Can she the fatal Sisters have inclined, The Empire of the world had been designed. But they had told there should descend from Troy A race that must the Tyrian line destroy, A sovereign people that the head sublime Of Empire, should on ruin'd Carthage climb. The goddess galled with this, her ancient feud Revolves, by growing injuries renewed: The honours done to ravished Ganymede, Who of the hated blood of Troy was bred; Her beauty foiled and blasted by the foul Repulse of Paris, dwell in her deep soul. For these the relics of the Grecian ire Some years she wrenchd with seas & bleached with fire; Jealous of Italy as of her Jove, The wand'ring Trojan from his harbour drove, While every element obeyed her doom. So vast a work it was to raise up Rome! The Trojan fleet at plough with brazen prows, The sight of Sicily no sooner lose, Then Juno feeding her eternal wound, Thus with herself. Must then the Fates confound My erterprises? Yes, they shall convince Me with their saw, and with their Dardan Prince. Minerva, when unto her c Cassandra. Prophetess Oilus offered force, could go no less Than thunder: for the fault of one, her hand By Jove's good favour, flourished with his brand, Sunk an whole Navy, i'th' Aegaean straits Of Grecians, of my confederates, With whirlwinds took the guilty lover, stuck Him, gasping flame, upon a pointed rock! But I the Queen of heaven, from age to age, With half a foe, a fruitless war must wage, Nay, still be worsted, who will bend a knee, Or pay a grain of incense more to me? Thus fanning hidden fire, she took her way Into the land of storms, Aeolia. Here Aeolus, while in his mighty cave, The hollow winds, and sounding tempests rave, Upon a lofty tower enthroned bears A sceptre awful to the mutineers; Who yet with murmur for enlargement seek, In labour to be born at every creek: And should the marble womb afford them birth, Would lave the sea, and mingle heaven and earth. But Jove, a people that so high are flown, As with their liberty to shake his throne Observing, hurled upon their necks the rocks That bow their fury to eternal yokes; Gave them a King that curbs the giddy race With brazen chains, and with an iron mace. To him lamenting Juno speaks her mind, Prince of the rocks and eyries of the wind, Behold the Tyrrhene seas are covered o'er With canvas that to me will never lore; My enemy, in my despite, is bound To plant his colours on Italian ground: Unhood thy falcons, slip their leases, throw Thy haggards off to tire upon my foe. For this, De ●ope, the blackest eyed, The fairest Nymph I have shall be thy bride, And live a constant mark of gratitude, In lovely copies of thyself renewed. Madam (said Aeolus) when we but know Your pleasure, 'tis obedience we owe, Who at the table of the gods have place, And hold our pregnant Empire of your grace. Then turning with his javelin gave a stroke That fruitfully disclosed the teeming rock. The winged furies from the bottom sweep The sea, and to the mountains roll the deep. The chariot of the poles is over driven, The axle catches fire in groaning heaven. Untimely night is hatched by brooding clouds That sit the sea. The noise of tearing shrouds Is answered by the shrieks of men beneath, To whom each object threatens present death. Ah (says Aeneas) you that chanced to fall While Troy was yet invested with her wall, On which your wives or aged parents stood, And saw your valour sacrifice your blood Unto your Country, souls for ever blest! How oft have I desired your envied rest! Thus Hector with Achilles parted well. Thus great Sarpedon by Patroclus fell. Why Diomedes could I not from you Obtain the favour every whit as due, Where Simois so many shields and helms And dearer spoils of Heroes overwhelms? But these, to other sighs, to other brine That tear his sails, and snap his oars, resign. A billow charges like a falling rock, The prow declines, the deck receives the shock. Some bottoms sound and raise the sand below, While others foam on liquid Alps in snow. Three on the shelves (they call the altars) stick, And other three are stranded in a quick, Orontes Captain of the Lycian keel, Engaged in broken seas that meeting wheel, Is swallowed by the gulf. What Troy could save From fire, is now for plunder to the wave. The Ilium, Abbas, the Achates, all, How snug, how tight soever, or how tall, Are drunken with the tipple of their leaks, And stagger unto death with giddy decks. Neptune by this who felt the lower sound Remove, in great commotion gave a bound Which from the deep above the raging flood Advanced his calmy head. Intent he stood Upon the ruin scattered round about, Perceives it Trojan and is out of doubt; He's not such stranger to his sister Queen But Juno through her cloud is easily seen. At which he hales the winds, and rates 'em. Whence? Sons of the Giants, this your confidence! From your high birth forsooth! that ere your leisure Can give you leave to know our will and pleasure, You dare to jumble heaven and earth together! Whom we— But better 'tis to calm the weather. Be gone, and tell your King what he forgot, The azure crown and trident are our lot, He must not lord it here, he may do so Upon your conyburies Puff-cheeks, go. His words restore the day: the ships are wrenched Out of the shelves and quicks, their jaws unclenched By Triton joining with Cymothoe; While Neptune in his chariot rolls the sea. As when some mighty City bursteth out Into sedition, the ignoble rout Assault the Palaces, usurp the street With stones, or brands, or any thing they meet; (For furies armoury is everywhere) But if a man of gravity appear, Whose worth they own, whose piety they know, Are mute, are planted in the place, and grow Unto his lips that smooth, that melt their souls: So hush the waves where Neptune's chariot rolls. The Trojans leaky, spent and shattered, stand Now for the next which was the Lybian Land. A bosom in the yielding border lay The safe retreat unto a calmy bay, Which, seaward by an Isle is fortified That drives the foamy crowd with either side On rocks which threaten heaven and awe the deep; By these the weary billows steal to sleep. The one whose airy brows are overgrown, Under the shadow of his oaken crown, Receives the stranger, and presents his sight With varied scenes of wonder and delight. I'th' other hangs a cave, the dear resort Of Nymphs that revel in the marble Court; Where lavish springs in silver eddies run, And seats are offered by the living stone. The ships that here arrive ensure themselves, Nor need their crooked teeth to by't the shelves. Seven galleys with the Prince of all his store Disbarque, enamoured of the wished shore. The sea-sick stooping kiss the flowery vest Of mother earth and lay their bones to rest. Achates ploughs with flint and sows the seed Of flame which withered leaves and branches feed. Some bring the mills and some the soaken wheat: They yet have better appetites than meat. Aeneas fullest of his wanted men (To see if there were any hope in ken) Had climbed a rock, upon whose deck he stood As much as ever tossed by the flood, While he can neither a dismantled stern, Nor canvas crest throughout the coast discern. In grief descending from the helpless crags, He casts his eye upon an herd of stags At forage in the valley, where they fed In file with three commanders at the head: His bow and feathered reeds he takes, to these The fairest standards stoop like falling trees; At which in vain the vulgar take the rout By his unerring hand pursued throughout The rustling woods, till he have equalled Unto his ships the number of the dead. These, with the wine that good Acestes stowed Into the hold at the Sicilian road; He destributes unto his fainting troops, With words that reinspire the soul that droops. Companions says he, too well you know We are not learning what belongs to woe, But must forget the dolours we outlive To doubt if God an end to these can give. Unto the teeth of the Nereian wolf, Or to the swallow of her sister Gulf, The forge of Aetna, or her Smiths, what may We reckon that we have escaped to day? If pleasure passed be but as treasure lost, Then pains when they are passed may quit the cost. Through all varieties that can oppose, Each element conspiring with our foes, We make our way, and at an easy rate When we compute the promises of Fate; For if we thus redeem the Trojan wall, It stood us yet in more to see it fall. Reserve yourselves for better. Thus he said With smiling lips, but with an heart that bled. The Deer are broken up, some strip the side, And others with their glittering skeans divide The bleeding quarry into chaps yet hot, That tremble on the spit or warm the pot, The iron helmet and the brazen shield Are pots and pans that stew the smoky field: Till on the grass they wallow, where at length Fat venison and old wine retreive their strength. Hunger appeased but wakes another pain; Gyas and Amycus are called in vain: What of Cloanth, of Lycus is become? And of Orontes, ah the cruel doom! Aeneas of the mourners still is chief And with a never discontinued grief. Jove on the brow of heaven a pause now made, The poised earth and sail-winged sea surveyed, On mortals and their frail affairs intent; When Venus full of tears, as he is bend Point blank upon the Lybian realms and seas, Invades the thunder with such moans as these. Director of the gods and men, you see What of my Trojans is become and me. How have they sinned, that still their punishments Are but renewed, while all the world consents. To hold 'em off, against your will combined? Or how is it that you have changed your mind? Sure you have made it known to be your doom, That Italy by Troy should bear great Rome. With this I solaced my afflicted state When she was ruined, poising fate with fate: Yet cruel fortune, at our charge endued With constancy, pursues her ancient fewed. Antenor through the Greek could find a way A passage through the Gulf of Adria. Cross the Lyburnian territory safe, Subdue the furious torrent of Timave, That bursting from a mountain in nine streams, Ploughs the fat valley with his foamy teams, And there erect his Milan, where at ease He bears the Trojan arms impaled with peace. Why then should some, whose ways you needs must see, Have less regard to us your progeny, While we are in our lawful voyage crossed, Tattered and torn, and hung on every coast? Is this the throne, the sceptre you intened? Who will be pious if this be the end? Jove, with the smiles that clear the weather, dips His coral in the Nectar of her lips, And thus replies. My Cytherea fair, Discharge these moving pillows of their care. What we engage we never shall decline, Firm as our Atlas stand the fates of thine. Thy promised City shall put forth her towers, And spring the nearest neighbour unto ours; 'Tis thus upon the roll, and I could strain A point, because I see thou art in pain, To make the secrets of the Fates appear A little more at large, but in thine ear; This man thy son will have enough to do, His foes have might and courage, but must bow. E'er three springs warm him in his Latin throne, Or the fierce Rutili have been his own So many winters, all will be secured, Rough nations hewn, his royal seat immured: Then shall he captivate their better parts, By righteous laws enthroned in their hearts. But young Ascanius (whom they called Juliet) Removing from Lavinium, shall rule, Till Sol have finished thirty large carriers, At Alba, which shall be three hundred years The seat of Trojan Empire, ere the sons Of Mars be born among the vestal Nuns, And Romulus from royal Ilia come To suck his wolf and then to build thy Rome; From him the Romans shall descend: to these I set no bounds of time, of land or seas. My wife herself shall here compose our wars, Become the willing nurse of their affairs: The patronised earth shall gladly own Herself the client of the Roman gown. It is decreed, and flowing time shall see Submissive Greece restore upon her knee The Trophies that from Trojan ashes came To the reviving Phoenix of her flame. Then shall her Caesar (Julius of great Julus called) unto his Empire set The Ocean, to his fame the starry skies For frontiers, to which when he shall rise Loaden with Eastern spoils in spicy smoke, Him shall the gods embrace and men invoke. The age succeeding shall relent, obey Law and Religion, throwing arms away; With Iron bolts and levers staunch and bar The floodgate and the doleful hinge of war: Within shall impious fury sit in chains On piles of swords and spears; with scalding veins, (His arms behind him in a brazen knot Securely bound) set up his horrid throat. This said he sends his Harbinger to take Up Juno's Carthage for the Trojan wrack; Who cuts the liquid air with feathered oars And casts himself upon the Lybian shores. The Tyrian courage nor the royal breast Of Dido strives with Jove or the distressed. Aeneas now had passed a thoughtful night In musing where he was, and with the light Is up to hid his fleet and seek this out, He is at once their General, their Scout. Nor was it by the Country easily guessed Whether it were the realm of man or beast: The coast was desert, and the land untilled, (For Carthage yet herself was hardly filled) The bay was strangely overgrown, the flood In many creeks was covered by the wood: In these he stows his Navy, than away He and Achates with their javelins stray. An huntress in the covert passes by, As in the dusk heavens wanton flashes fly, To whom Harpalice of Thrace were slow, Her sporting locks like rapid Heber flow; The ruffling winds that touse her as she goes, A rifled breast, a naked knee disclose. The Spartan maid (for this unto the eye Her dress, her quiver, and her bow imply) Gins the dialogue. My hearts, I pray Did any of my sisters go this way? In pillage of the spotted Linx, they follow The foamy bore, or did you hear them hollow? Goddess, (says he) for in that voice, that face There is no sound, no show of humane race; None of thy sisters did we see or hear Nor if we had could have informed thee where, Who know not where we are; propitious power, Behold the shipwreck of a foreign shore; Say what we do, whose fields they be we tread, To whom we fall; so shall thy flames be fed By our right hands. Strangers, (says she) not so; Unto the purple buskin and the bow, Which is the fashion with the Tyrian Dames, Belong no such devotions nor flames. The fields you tread to Carthage appertain, Where sons of Mars obey a woman's reign. Here Dido by her brother chased from Tyre The sceptre sways: volumes her wrongs require. But I shall touch their tops and run them over. The greatest Lord of lands, the truest lover Throughout Phoenicia, in her blooming pride From her glad parents had received this bride; Sichaeus was his name, whose brother then (Pygmalion the wickedest of men) Was King of Tyre. This prodigy by stealth Murders Sichaeus merely for his wealth, The body and the fact conceals, beguiles His sisters flattered hopes with many wiles; Till all in slumber be at length disclosed Unto the widow by her husband's ghost: His visage won in dreadful wise he shows, His wounds, the mazes of the bloody house, Then beckons to a vault where buried lie His golden hoards, with which he bids her fly. She thus resolved, companions in her flight Loathing and fear of tyranny provide. Pigmalion's revolting fleet is towed Into rebellion, by the treasure stowed: Under the conduct of a woman, on A canvas wing his golden dream is flown. Such was the Colony that landed where You soon will see her rising towers appear. But whence are you, or whither would you go? Goddess (says he) the Sun, ere half our woe Can be expressed, would hid himself: we are Troy's ashes spurned and scattered into air: Her hated relics which the light abhors, Tossed by the seas and split upon the shores. Aeneas is my name, whom wrathful heaven Exiled in twenty ships now brought to seven. A Country promised by the destinies I seek, pursuing Italy that flies. But sure (returns the maid) he has not lost His way, nor all the gods, that on this coast Is born, by milder weather or by stress, As when you see the Queen you will confess. And as those swans descending from above, Where they were scattered by the bird of Jove, Tack their white sails, and falling in a round Together touch or seem to touch the ground, So does your fleet, so does your landing youth, If ancient augury have any truth. This said, in vain recalled by her son, His Mother Venus as she goes is known; Who, to conceal him from the gazing crowd, At parting clothes him with a trusty crowd, And so to Paphos, where unto the skies An hundred smoky altars seek her, hies. The Trojans haste and rising with their way, Carthage below from steepy clifs survey. Wonder commands an halt. The vale, ere while Sprinkled with sheds, becomes an haughty pile, The pavements sound, the ardent Tyrians reek, Some cut, some roll the stone which others seek In speckled quarries, some the theatre On mighty columns, some the castle rear, Some spread a common roof, and some their own, While others lead the wall about the town. As when the heir apparent of the hive Calls forth the youth, or when their parents stive In liquid cells the plunder of the fields; One brings the burden and another builds, The eager work with murmur fills the plain, A drone is not permitted to remain. Aeneas moves again and moving cries, O walls that have the happiness to rise! Then met by none with what he pleases meets, And goes invisible into the streets. A grove that cast a pleasing shade, endued The mighty City with a solitude, Which in the middle of the bvilders lay Untouched by the threatening axe, since they Here with the spade discovered Juno's sign, An horse's head, by which they might divine Unto their arms and ploughs increase. There stood A temple in the middle of the wood, Unto the goddess raised by the Queen, Which full of either power, and pomp was seen. The high ascent was brass, the beams were cheeked With brass, the gates on brazen hinges shrieked. Here first Aeneas met what made him dare To trust his hopes, and vilify despair: For wand'ring through a world, the pencil struck As out of Chaos with stupendious luck; He finds the story of the Trojan flame Had filled the world already with her fame. Here Agamemnon, there Achilles stood; Here Priam sacrificed in his blood. At which he stopped and wept, behold, says he, Achates, if in all the earth there be A stranger to our woes, an heart so hard Where pain wants pity, virtue her reward: While each of these hath been our harbinger, What is it man that we should need to fear? While thus the empty shadows drink his tears And feed his hopes, the zealous Queen repairs So to the temple, and with such a train: As when upon the Taenarean plain, The fair Oreades by hundreds follow The quiver-bearing sister of Apollo. Her incense paid, the Dame intent upon Her growing Empire, now ascends a throne Environed by her guards; divides, creates By word or lot, the honours, Magistrates: While men as Oracle receive her law. Mean time it seemed unto the Prince he saw Antheus, Sergest, Cloanthus, many more He gave for lost appearing at the door. Achates, rapt with joy, would straight have had Him break his cloud; Aeneas though as glad Yet not so sudden, while he sees a press About the strangers, waits for the success. They sue for audience, which granted, thus Unto the Queen grave Ilioneus. please your sacred Majesty; the hand, Which by divine indulgence hath obtained To be the foundress of a glorious realm, And steer rough Nations with a calmy helm, We ruins of our Troy and of your shore To gracious pity and relief implore. O stop the sluices of mistaken ire; O save our Navy from the threatened fire. We neither bring you war, nor come for prey, Crimes which our better fortunes could not lay Unto our charge: what courage then appears In conquered bosoms to create such fears? There is a Land was called Hesperia, Where once th' Oenotrian ploughed the fertile clay, A dug of earth that suckles arms; the name Of late is Italy, at this we aim. It was the cruelty of wind and weather That broke us in our course and forced us hither. Yet winds and seas have cast us upon men, While men would cast us into seas again; Your shores are armed against a naked breast, As if the gods were foes to the distressed. The wave devours, they threaten with the brand, We sink, and yet they will not let us land. A Prince we have, or had, than whose hath fame For arms or piety no greater name; To him in kindness, if he see the Sun, You never will repent to have begun. This was, this is I trust Aeneas: We Have friends, Acestes King of Sicily, Who being of our blood must needs embrace A favour done unto the Dardan race. We ask but to Carine upon your shores, And cut a little wood to make us oars. This work performed immediately we steer For Italy, if of our Prince we hear; But if our life be swallowed by the waves, For Sicily which will afford us graves. The sense of Ilioneus approved By all, the Queen at first was somewhat moved, Who thus, invaded by a blush, replies. Trojans, if diligence or jealousies Have rougher brows in Empire that is new, This should not be so strange to such as you. Be not discouraged, we have heard of all, Your Prince, yourselves, your City and her fall. The Sun is nearer neighbour both to Tyre And Carthage then to leave us in the mire Of Barbarism: you may safely use Our ports, and taking time as freely choose Your course, or with your Prince, or for your friend; And what it is you want our stores shall lend. Or should you rather like this realm of ours, The City which we build is freely yours. Break up your fleet, with me the different name Trojan and Tyrian shall be the same. And for your Prince we hope he may be well, But if there be a shore of ours can tell, You shall be eased of the heavy doubt. At which she order's horse to be sent out. Aeneas swelled with joy that tore his shroud, Broke from the chamber of the lightning cloud Into the field, for which his Mother's charms Had been at work to gird him with her arms; As when to Ivory, to Parian stone Art contributes the lustre that's their own. Interpreted by such a garb and mien, He comes with this address unto the Queen. Sacred and only calm I ever knew, The raging sea, the stormy winds that blew, The crushing rocks be ever blest, since we By these are driven under such a Lee. While rivers with their silver tribute own The sea, will we the favours you have shown; Our gratitude from their immenseness shall Descend, while shadows from the mountains fall. Your fame shall sound and spread where ere we steer; While Planets wander in the azure sphere. This said to Ilioneus, Gyas and Cloanthus, with the rest he gives his hand. The presence or the fortunes of the man Silenced the Queen a while, ere she began Thus to bemoan his state, What cruel hand Pursues the pious to an unknown land! You are Aeneas whom the goddess bore, And Simois swaddled in his flowery shore; For at the time my father Belus broke Fat Cyprus unto his victorious yoke, There came a Greek one Teucer, who was sprung Of Trojan blood, and did the name no wrong; He from the very first unto the last Had seen your wars, and told us all that past: And in the miseries which you have known There is so great resemblance of our own, While either fleet by like adventures tossed, Is met at length upon the self same cost; That you may trust our learning in the art Of giving ease to the afflicted heart. Which said, she brings the Trojan to her court, And sends a royal present to the port; An hundred ewes and lambs, an hundred sows, And Bacchus rides upon a drove of cows. The royal palace with magnificence And varied scenes of pomp received the Prince. The flores were carpets, and the roofs were guilt, The walls with story silken volumes filled. The board was covered with besuiting state, The cupboards loaden, where the massey plate Phoenician arms and pedigrees enrolled In silver Trophies, and triumphant gold. Forthwith Aeneas (for the father's mind Runs not on things that leave the son behind) Dispatched Achates to the fleet for dear Ascanius, directed thence to bear Some ornaments and jewels, which had been The choice of Helen's store, unto the Queen. But Venus still in doubt what might betid In Juno's realms, with new adventures plied The destined Lady; stole the boy away With slumber bound him in Idalia The sluggard lies, embraced by shady bowers, In fragrant herbage breathing like the flowers; While Cupid, having laid aside his wings, Puts on his nephew and the present brings. The Queen upon a purple couch at board Was set, and next to her the Trojan Lord; By him his Captains, for their better cheer Each entertained by a Tyrian Peer. First comes the towel and the spouting ewer, Then yellow Ceres ushered by the Sewer. An hundred Pages serve the smoky plate, As many on the flowering bottles wait. To these not dreaming to be so beguiled Enters the little God that plays the child; The Tyrians in the jewels worship Troy, But Dido ravished with the lovely boy, Enthrones the cruel wanton on her knee, And offers to the unknown Deity In kisses, while he scratches out Sichaeus And in her marble bosom writes Aeneas. Now at the second service Bacchus crowned With more solemnity began his round: At freer mirth which former silence broke The roof, the arches murmuring awake. Torches in golden sconces keep the field And night is scattered by a flaming shield. The bowl which Belus used, and all from him, Sparkling with wine and jewels to the brim, Dido receives, and silence made, O Jove (Says she) for thee we understand to love The hospitable, and preside at all The entertainments truly jovial, May our posterity observe with joy This day, the festival of Tyre and Troy: Propitious Juno be a constant guest, And Bacchus Prince of gladness crown the feast. At which she shed the honour of the cup To consecrate the board, and took a sup; Then rousing mighty Bitias gave him hold, Who launched his lips, and laved the foamy gold. The health goes round. jopas with the tresses What Atlas taught unto the harp expresses; How man, how beast, how rain and thunder come By Nature to be form in her womb, The travails of the Sun and Moon in airs Re-eccho to the music of their spheres: Trojans and Tyrians at every pause Become the Chorus with their high applause. But other draughts, and other charms then these For ever on unhappy Dido seize; Who wastes the night with various discourse, Enquiring now of arms and then of horse, Much after Priam, after Hector much; If Diomedes were so, Achilles such: Nay, but (says she) Aeneas, now oblige Me to begin, and show me the whole siege, With all your travels since you there begun, And here conclude seven courses of the Sun. VIRGIL'S AENEIS. The second Book. SIlence and deep attention every man Had raised, when from his haughty couch began The Prince thus in obedience, to relate Unto the Tyrian Queen the Trojan fate. Madam, our pains, since you assign them breath, Shall live again, though they be worse than death: For how dire Greece attained to overwhelm Troy's glories, and that miserable realm, (A desolation which wretched we, So great a share of it, survived to see) What Dolop, Myrmidon, or tongue of theirs That triumph in the fact, could tell for tears! And now the heavens shake off dissolving night, And setting stars to injured sleep invite; Yet since by your commands, you should not fear The groans again of gasping Troy to hear, Although my soul give back, as shrinking in At thoughts so horrid, I shall now begin. The Greeks for many years repulsed by Fate, And broken by our sallies, dedicate A mighty horse (whose arched rib was pine) To Pallas, framed by her art divine; An holy bribe as they would have it thought, By which their licence to retreat was bought. For so 'twas given out, while they indeed Had lodged an ambush in the hollow steed. This spacious womb of death impregnated Thus with the choicest men that nation bred, For Tenedos (an Island in the ken Of Troy, rich, while she stood, but now a fen And unsecure) their skulking Navy bore, And lurked upon the solitary shore. The wind was good, and we supposed 'em gone, When Troy her tarnished jollity put on, Opened her gates, now every one must see The trenches of the flying enemy; Here lodged Achilles, there his Dolops laid, Here joined the battle, there was the Parade. But that of all which had engrossed discourse And wonder, was the fabric of the horse: Which first Thymetes (whether so to be Troy's Fate would have it or his treachery) Commands into the City to be brought. Capys and others not so rash (who thought The Grecian bounty fit to be thrown Into the sea then for the wise to own) To launch the swelling oak, and search the dire Impostume, call for axes or for fire. Th' incertain people now to this inclined, 〈◊〉 now to that, are never of a mind. ●●●oon, in speed and very loud, Comes from the castle, at his heels a crowd, And all the way he runs, he shrieks and cries, Ah wretches, what is it hath seld your eyes? Is't possible you think the Grecians fled! Are you no better in Ulysses read, Then to imagine him a friend that wooed Be at such cost with you, and for your good! The foe is spying from that lofty crest, The City to be trampled by this beast: Or be what will the drift of this device, A Greek and bountiful forewarns me twice. At which he rallied all his scattered force, And threw his massey javelin at the horse: It stuck and trembled in the dry-liped wound, The caves resounded and the caverns groaned. O heavens! O destinies! you have designed Whom you intent for ruin to be blind, Or death had thus been stifled in the womb, And Troy had stood upon a Grecian tomb. As this was doing, lo unto the King A captive youth in bonds the shepherds bring: A rabble gathers to him, some with spite Are moved, and some with pity at the sight. The youth among the Trojan bands amazed, Thus vents his grief as on their strength he gazed; Wretch that I am, what land, what sea can be My refuge, in whose double destiny B Greece and troy pursue each others ends, My equal foes whose fortune makes them friends! His words, his sighs, his tears have turned the tide, The Trojans pity whom they did deride, Inquire his story, him to truth advise, As that wherein the Captives safety lies. Whence he assured, assures the King of truth, I am (says he) indeed a Grecian youth. (For wicked fortune never shall be able To render Sinon false though miserable) If you have heard of Palamed (derived From Belus) who in fame shall be long lived, Spite of that treachery which cut him short, For shocking with the rashness of the Court By counsel, which against this war he gave, He died by them that weep upon his grave. I was his kinsman, and with him I came, Driven by my wants to venture at this game, The sword, which by his conduct thriv, while he Was in such honour, as had some for me. But since that sugard poison of the tongue Envious Ulysses (what I say is sung) Gave him his bane; I have bemoaned my friend In solitude, resolved if fate should send Me ever home, I never would forget His ghost, the traitor, or the bloody debt. But fool, I could not hid this noble sense, And all my miseries derive from thence. Ulysses' having found me, from that time Hath still upon his forge had some new crime Against me, so to make the vulgar prate, And with their forked tongues to arm his hate. Nor could a peace or truce be ever made, Till he had won our Prophet to his aid— But I anatomize a Greek to men That think them all (perhaps) alike, and then My cause, no doubt, is pleaded very well To lose this head of mine, which you may sell, Since Agamemnon or Ulysses would, For such a purchase give the weight in gold. We are on thorns to hear his story out, Entreating him to lay aside his doubt. And on he goes. Full oft the stormy skies Have counselled us (O had we been so wise!) To raise our siege, but never in that style, As when we were about to build this pile. Yet so did they enrage the sea, that still They took away the power to give the will. In this suspense Eurypylus is sent T' inquire at Delphos what was the portent. Dire Oracles incensed Apollo sings, Which from the holy threshold thus he brings. O Greeks, when to the siege of Troy you came, You offered up a Virgin soul in flame; In flame again, when ere you would return, A Grecian soul unto the winds must burn. The people stupid when they hear this news, Expect with horror whom the god will choose. The Priest comes forth, is urged by my foe To name his man (men saw how this would go) Yet tender Calchas, to conceal from whence He had his Oracle, is in suspense; Ten days he takes, in which to seek and know Of heaven, what was resolved so long ago, And end his piety where it began, While I at length am pointed out the man; And every one, transported thus to be Delivered of his own, lays load on me. What remedy? the day is come, the corn And salt prepared, the filet to be worn. I must confess, not yet prepared to die, I broke my bonds, and made a shift to fly Into the sedges of a lake, there lay Perdu, till they had weighed, if they would weigh. And thus have I escaped the sacrifice, For which perhaps my dearest friend now dies; My father or my son, whom I, nor thee My native Country, ever hope to see. If truth have any Patron (mighty Sir) In heaven or earth, by him I do conjure, Ponder the weight of my calamity, The greatest that of guilt was ever free. The captive hath his pardon as his due, And pity of free gift, they broke and threw Away his bonds, while Priamus (good King) Thus thawed his sadness like the cheerful spring. Stranger from hence forgetting Greece well lost, Esteem thyself a native of this coast; No more of that, we call thee ours. But say, (This monstrous horse confounds me every way) What is portended by the mighty beam? Is it religion or stratagem? Sinon, with raised hands at liberty, Exclaims, Eternal spangles of the sky, Inviolable powers, polluted swords, Ye altars I have scaped, ye fillets, cords, What Greece can have, to you I now appeal So sacred, as I ought not to reveal. If she her love, her nature can revoke, I am absolved from the law she broke. But Troy, if faithful to the hope she gives Shall ne'er repent it, that her Sinon lives. While Pallas ruled the Grecian arms, 'twas so That what design so ere they drove would go: But from the time that forge of wickedness, Ulysses got with Diomedes access Unto her shrine, by killing of her guard, And there with bloud-imbrued clutches dared To touch the goddess and her fillet tear, To drag her a statue by the virgin hair, a the Palladium. Their fortune like a mighty tide gave back, The strength, the nerve of their design grew slack. Nor had the goddess her estranged breast By undiscerned prodigies expressed: For when her image came into the camp, The marble sweat, the eye was like a lamp, And thrice she brandished in the open field Her threatening sword, and raised up her shield. Calchas denounces that they must departed, Troy cannot suffer by a Grecian dart Till all renewed at Argos, they resign The stolen Palladium to the proper shrine. Nor are they now at home for other ends Then to recruite, and make the gods their friends, That when you least expect they may invade You fresh, for so it is by Calchas laid. And for the horse, which warned of their guilt, In lieu of the Palladium they built, Calchas ordained it of the height you see To bar your gates against the deity. For thus he prophesies, destruction shall The Trojan name and Priam's throne befall (Which righteous heaven fulfil in him and his) If you shall violate this edifice; But, if entire her saving gift ascend Your City, Pallas shall be Asia's friend, Whose armies through the heart of Greece shall run, The father's due repaying to the son. We give him credit, and his tears succeed, The fraud and perjuries of Sinon speed Where Diomedes and Achilles fail In ten years' war, and with a thousand sail. Yet 'twas an higher hand, while this was hot That striking forged up the iron plot. Laocoon, Priest of Neptune, deals his blows, A mighty bull before the altar bows, When lo, from Tenedos two serpents creep, Whose circling backs engulf the calmy deep, Their bloody mains above the wave they hold, And in their winding tales large seas enfold; The poisoned billows cast them on the shore, Licking their jaws that hiss with flame and gore. Pale and dispersed we fly, they spring upon Two of the children of Laocoon, Soft limbs in venomous embraces wrap, And open purple fountains where they lap. The father with the threatening dart he brought To help, into the running noose is caught, And twice about his neck and waste they got, Raising their heads above the scaly knot, Which he endeavours to untie in vain, His holy fillet blood and rancour slain; At which he bellows like a bull that shakes Out of his wounded neck the failing axe: The spiny dragons in swift mazes fly To fierce Minerva's citadel, there lie Low at the virgin's foot, and hurkle in Protected by her golden shield and shrine. New terror creeps into each breast, they own The vengeance just that seized Laocoon, Whose sacrilegious javelin dared to maim The beauty of the consecrated frame; And cry to have it instantly brought in, If so they may the angry Goddess win. We lay the City open, break the wall, Some fasten wheels unto the pedestal, Harness the horse, and draw him by his trace; Men are his team, he mounts the breach a pace: Soft virgins flock, and proud to touch the string, Like swans at Cytherea's chariot sing, Till from the ruin of the wall they launch Into the threatened street the sounding Paunch. Ah, Mother Troy, ah walls with trophies hung, Ah temple where the gods had dwelled so long! Thrice in his journey was the beast discerned To stop, and thrice his iron bowels yern'd, While we more beasts were haling, till at length Placed in the tower we gave the foe our strength. Here all was said, but 'twas Cassandra said it, Who was endued with truth, but not with credit. Poor souls, the day to be our last, we dressed With boughs, and celebrated as a feast, When fell the Sun, as if the orb of light Had burst, and scattered with his cinders night; That night which spread her sable wing abroad o'er heaven, o'er earth, and o'er the Grecian fraud. The Trojans silent as the walls they keep Bedew their stiffened limbs which supple sleep, While with the moon to friend, the Grecians cross Unto the well known shore from Tenedos; Their ordered decks no sooner were advanced, Then flame out of the Admiral galley glanced, Which was the sign appointed to be given; Sinon at this (that curse of partial heaven) Broaches the horse, which by a rope to run Gins, as when you pierce a poisoned tun. Ulysses, Sthenelus, Tisandrus, Thaos, The Architect Epeus, Menelaus, Machaon, Pyrrhus, on the dead now fall, For wine and sleep by this had buried all. Our guards cut off, their companies that wait Are both received and receive the gate. About the hour heaven's bounty sleep renews, The strength of mortals and their care subdues, The ghost of Hector smeared with dust and blood Approached my bed, and staring on me stood, His cheeks were sallow, and his eyes were dim, As when the chariot dragged him by a limb. O heavens the spectacle! ah how he was Transformed from that Hector who gave chase To proud Achilles, and from thence returned In Laurel, and his brighter spoils adorned! Who split the Grecians while the Trojan brand Fell on their navies from his lightning hand! His beard was stiff, each wound a running sore, His lovely locks were clotted with his gore. Mine eyes gushed forth, ah Hector, ah the joy, The strength, the glory, the support of Troy, Where hast thou been, whence dost thou come, how art Thou furrowed with those wounds that wound my heart? Why after such effusion in this place Of Dardan blood see we so late thy face? He answers not, but with a dreadful cry Exclaims, son of the goddess fly, O fly. Our gates are siezed by th' insulting foe, Great Troy, to which nor you nor I do owe Is fallen, fallen from her envied height, Acknowledging we both have done her right. The rest is vain, if she had been to stand That had been granted unto this right hand. Her holy relics, to thy piety Bequeathed by herself, bear thou with thee, Whose wand'ring fate by these conducted, shall In foreign parts set up the Trojan wall. This said, from Vesta's cooling hearth he tears Th' immortal flame, and forthwith disappears. Our house environed by a silent wood Retired some distance from the City stood. Confused noises rise in shrieks and fire, The light grows greater, and the clamour higher. As when a tempest fans with her hoarse wings A spark, which into standing corn she brings; Or when a torrent at his forage mocks The labour of the ploughman and his ox, Astonished shepherds waking at the sound Climb some high cleft, and view the wasted ground: Roused from my bed upon a tower I hover, The Grecian fraud and fury thence discover. Deiphobuses house fierce Vulcan razes, And now Vcalegon our neighbour blazes, The Seas themselves are set on many fires By the reflection of flaming spires. Trumpets with shouts, and shrieks with trumpets vy, To arms, to arms, give me my arms, I cry: But to what end, I am as much to seek, Except the castle held, and through the Greek We were enough to make our way. Despair Provides companions that nothing fear. Panthus' Otriades, Apollo's Priest, Haling his little Nephew by the wrist, And loaden with his relics, first we met. Panthus, what cheer, the castle holds it yet? W' are gone, w' are lost, he cries, the hour is come, We have been Trojans, this was Ilium, The mighty glory of our ancestors, Now all to Argos wrathful heaven transfers: The burning City's mastered by the Greeks, The teeming horse has opened all his decks. Insulting Sinon lays about in flame, Thousands that are not of the Grecian name Possess the gates, upon the breaches stand, The reeking sword is in a bloody hand; Some of our guards a noble heat express, But few, and they exposed to great distress. At this as clamour and the furies guide, We follow, Ripheus marching by my side, With gallant Iphitus, then by the moon Dymas and Hypanis fall in, and soon (Unto adventures equal with his stake) Comes young Coraebus for Cassandra's sake: Unhappy youth, who yet had breathed this air Had he believed her true as he did fair. To these, great souls resolved to charge, said I Although our god's retreat, our fortune fly, Since all extremes meet in the point they eat, This is our safety that we look for none. Which said, as wolves, whose cubs are dry-liped, prey, Through night, through darts, through death we make our way. That hollow hearse of darkness never shall Find tears proportioned to her funeral: The growth of ages, from her envied height, The ancient City tumbles in a night, The mangled spoils of souls in sad exile, Her houses, streets, her holy fanes defile. Nor falls the Trojan only, or in vain; Courage in frozen bosoms gives again; The victor takes his turn, and has his hap, While death is revelling in every shape. First of the Greeks Androgeo, by mistake, Accost's us thus. So comrades, you make Good haste it seems, while Troy is bound for Greece, Others returning stow her golden fleece On sinking keels, you but disbarque: what ails You creep out of your wooden shells like snails! But as a man that treads upon a snake Too late perceives his error and gives back, We charge him through and through, while he retires, And cut him off engaged among the briers. At this success Coraebus well advises, We thus have gotten arms with fit disguises, Pursue we fortune in her chosen ways; Courage and stratagem are equal praise: And so puts on Androgeo's plumed crest, Commending his example to the rest. Thus with the Trojan sword and Grecian shield Thousands of foes we leave for ever seld; Some sneak aboard, some to the lower shade, And others reascend their wooden jade. But who can strive with heaven! we meet divine Cassandra dragged from her Minerva's shrine, With flowing hair, and raised eyes in vain. At which, into the midst of the profane, Coraebus charged. We second him, thus known Unto their men and not unto our own, Our friends, deceived by our bucklers, pour Their fury on us from the temple tower. To this both Ajax and the furious b Menelaus, & Agamennon. sons Of Atreus bring up their Myrmidons. We join like blasts from distant quarters met, And whirlwinds in the rough embrace beget. Numbers oppress us, they, whom partial night Had rescued once, return unto the fight. Coraebus' on Minerva's altar dies, Cassandra's most unwelcome sacrifice. Ripheus' true Trojan, with his Dymas by Mistaking friends, are killed in courtesy. Nor would thy Mitre Panthus serve thy turn. To Troy's cold ashes and your common urn, If any danger could divert the zeal I showed your lives to rescue, I appeal. Peleas and Iphytus with me are born, By clamour forward (Iphytus was worn With age, and Pelias feeble with a wound Ulysses gave) weare hurried till we found The Court engaged in a fight so sore As if there had been nothing done before. The Greeks close ranked their heads with targets slate, Apply the tortoise unto every gate, Others their lathers set unto the walls, The left defends the head, the right hand scales; While from the roof the Trojans roll the spires And battlements, the pomp of their old fires, The wakened rafters with their guilded beams, Are ammunition in these sad extremes. Others with rough provision below Attend i'th' entreys to sustain the foe. Priam's distress our loyal blood inflames; There was a secret passage for the dames Of Hector's house unto the Court, which way His children were accustomed to go play (Troy then was happy) with their grandsire King; By this recruites unto the Court we bring, There climb the roof from whence with small effect The Trojans their derided shot direct. Here yet remained a turret Priam's spy, Whence he was wont to view the enemy, We hue her from her lofty seat, disclose Her joints, and pour the ruin on our foes; Thousands are buried, but, do what we can, On their neglected graves as many stand. Automedon brings up the Scyrian bands With Periphas, and storms the roof with brands. Pyrrhus, in armour like the burnished skins Of vipers basking in the Sun, gins To force the palace gate: at every stroke His iron javelin feeds upon the oak, Till eaten through the heart, it now disclose The entrails sacred to our King's repose; The guards with which the yielding door is lined, Are first in view with spacious Courts behind. Out of the inner parts confused cries, Piercing the walls ascend unto the skies, Virgins in horror of their ruthless dooms Wander the vast and solitary rooms, Embrace the pillars, clip and kiss the stone, The marble thaws, the hollow arches groan. Pyrrhus insists with native fury born, The doors are from their brazen hinges torn, The guards cut off Streams, that have burst their dams, Swept herds of bulls away with flocks of lambs, Into the eddies of some valley come, As now the Greek flows into every room. Proud columns hatched with gold, with trophies hung, Are taught humility and laid along. Where fire goes out, the fiercer Grecians hold. His Troy on flame, his palace forced, the old King, feeble, and decrepit with his years, Yet full of courage and resolved appears In unaccustomed arms to welcome death. There was an inner Court, in this beneath The green pavilion of a Laurel stood The household gods, their table and their food, An altar that was daily smoking. Hither, Like flocks of Doves pursued by stormy weather, The Trojan dames with Hecuba were fled, And hung upon the Altars horned head. But when the Queen perceived her Priamus In youthful arms, she let the Altar lose And hung about his neck, my aged Lord, Alas, (says she) were this my Hector's sword It were too late, our exigences call For other aids then these, or none at all; This Altar shall defend us both, or neither, As we have lived so let us die together. Which said, she set him on the sacred stone. When lo, Polites, Priam's younger son, By Pyrrhus wounded, and pursued flies Through privy passages and galleries, Till reached, he spill upon the holy place His purple soul before his father's face. The King above the danger, at the dire Affront expresses this beseeming ire. The gods reward thee (if in heaven there be Such care) for that which thou hast made me see; The like Achilles never would have done, Thou dost but fain thyself to be his son. At which with all his strength he dealt a stroke, That Pyrrhus with his brazen target broke, And took him sliding in the blood yet warm Of his cold son, then wound about his arm The snowy tresses of the feeble sire, And dragged him to the Altar. Go, inquire Among the shades (says he) whose son I am, Or tell my father how I Soil his name. Which words by unrelenting Pyrrhus said, The other hand strikes off old Priam's head. The sons of Atreus with equal rage Succeeding Pyrrhus spare nor sex, nor age, Till in their blood upon the altar lay By thoughtless Priam willing Hecuba, Extinguishing the flames they used to feed, By these an hundred of their offspring bleed. Such was the end of Priamus, when he The ruin of his realm had lived to see; The potent Prince to whom all Asia gave Obedience is not allowed a grave; His mighty trunk upon the shore is thrown A common carcase, and a corpse unknown. This spectacle my soul, till now of proof, Had wholly stupefied, while on the roof I stood deserted to a man by all: And dire remembrancers, what might befall My family, deprived of my aid, With horror to my guilty conscience laid. My father in the King, in Hecuba My undefended wife Creüsa lay, And of the children that I looked upon Me thought Ascanius must needs be one. Too late, while every pass is blocked with fire, I cast about enraged to retire, When lo, in flame that quenches flame and me, From heaven descends my Mother-Deity. Son, says the Goddess, thanks to me are due, That all is well at home, and not to you. And for your Country, lay the cruel storm, This blood was not from Helen's envied form, Paris was not the maker of this fire. Though dim mortality go seldom higher, Men are but instruments of heaven's decree, And this such Hero's as thyself should see. Render thine arms, obey in sudden flight, Behold, they are the gods themselves that fight. Which said, a ray she drops into mine eyes That fills them with celestial light, and flies. Now Neptune, where the dust and smoke arose, Beheld I with his Trident dealing blows, The spreading walls which he had ●oyst before He furles, and makes their lofty turret's lore. Waving a sword unto her Grecians sat Remorseless Juno on the Scaean gate: Upon the castle with her Gorgon stood Bellona, brewing in a cloud of blood: Nay, Jove himself so used to carry even In Grecian arms arrayed the host of heaven. Troy, like a pine, that was the mountain's pride, By husbandmen beset on every side, Whose axes lay their sighing blows upon Her stable root, now trembles, and anon Slowly gins to bow, then with a groan Astonishing the sounding woods comes down. The gods must be obeyed, farewell my Joy, Eternally farewel Neptunian Troy. Now swerves the Palace, our supporters bend, The roof that follows land's me; I descend In ruin that before my flying feet Chases the conqueror, and clears the street. Unto the place once called our home, I steer, Resolved my father thence with speed to bear. But good old man, he utterly denies To lay his bones but where his Ilium lies. You that have blood to fill and warm your veins, Have means to fly, and somewhat for your pains, (Says he) but I should find some other way, Heaven in these ruins laughs at my delay. Alas, what should he fly that seeks his end? Help is at hand, a foe will be a friend. All that of this cold earth can live is you, My dear resources leave a corpse, adieu. My wife Creus ', Ascanius, and I Bathing with tears his feet, at which we lie, Beseech him as he wishes such resource Not to obstruct it in the proper course, Nor think the loss already had so small As thus to argue till he lose us all. Still he persists. Why then our flight, her sears Hath mewed, for farewell hopes and farewell fears: And should a father think while he hath none There can remain an hope unto his son! My arms, my arms, the life I purchased at Some price, let me go sell at any rate; Or Pyrrhus call to murder with a grace Another son before his father's face. Ah mother Venus, thou hast stood indeed My friend, but has it been a friend at need, If I be but preserved to see my father, Creus ', Ascanius, mix life blood together? My arms, my arms, it is the last day calls The Victor to the Captives funerals, Who shall be entertained.— As with such words I fling away, Creusa's arms were cords, Who on her knees embraced my feet, and spread Ascanius in the step I was to tread. If death, says she, be good, and of despair You seek that cure, refuse us not our share, If ill forsake us not at such a need, Since he that flies to arms hath hope to speed. As thus she argues with a tide of tears, Behold a sudden prodigy appears, Ascaniuses curls have caught a fire That on his tufted crown erects a spire, Kisses his temples where it feeding shines, And softly with his unsinged tresses twines. Creus ' and I implore the liquid aid Of springs, and with their gift the flame invade. But old Anchises, with his hands to heaven, Exalted at the sign the gods have given, Invokes the confirmation of their love With zealous prayers addressed to father Jove. It thundered, and a falling star that drew A silver streak out of her rav'led clew, To tack her thread upon the house begun, And thence unto the woods of Ida spun. Anchises is convinced, now no delay Since his adored goddess chalks the way. My honoured father, come, you are no weight, (Who bears his health is lightened by his freight) Sat on my neck, thy hand Ascanius, And dear Creus ' be sure you follow close; For you the servants, at the Cypress tree; Upon the solitude of Ceres, be The rendevouz. Our gods my father bears, I him, thus fraught with all my hopes and fears I go; Ascanius grasps my hand, and traces His father's steps, though with unequal paces, Creusa follows. Was I used to start! Now not a leaf that stirs but chills my heart! The horror of the night, the vast and wild Fields which we pass affright me like a child. When well advanced upon our way, we meet A sudden clash of fire, and sound of feet. At this Anchises cried, Aeneas, fly, And so I did as fast as I could hy. Thus chased, I know not by what envious power, Dearest Creus ' I saw not from that hour. Nor did I know or think how poor a man I was, till we arrived at Ceres' fane: Where all are safe, but when we find the cost, (While she alone is wanting) all are lost. Whether she stayed or fainted by the way, Or frighted by the spirits went astray, Ye heavens it was a great severity! The sack of Troy was not so much to me! Unto a trusty covert I commend My treasure in my young and ancient friend, With such as met us at the Cypress tree: Resolved the sable field again to see, And try if I have courage now to greet The powers with lightning eyes and thundering feet. The darkness seemed a vault, the night a tomb, I called, Creusa, O Creusa come. Horror condenses, and in tears distils, The echoes shriek upon the waking hills. Creusa, O Creusa, hear, O hear, Thou knowest my woes, and if thy soul yet wear The tenderness of humane flesh, shouldst aid: Or, ah Creusa, if thou be'st a shade, Can blessed spirits wound as thou hast done, And are they void of all compassion! At such complaints, to my affrighted eyes, Her taller ghost appears, and thus replies. My Lord, assuage the passion that trains This fond indulgence unto fruitless pains: Thus heaven will have it: unpropitious Jove Forbids Creusa to enjoy her love. Where Lydian Tiber flows, the gods prepare Him fortunes, better than admit her share; A sceptre and a crowned bride. My dear, Love my Ascanius, and spare that tear. I do not in low servitude disgrace The son of Venus, nor the Dardan race. Nor Myrmidon, nor Dolop me constrains To wait upon his wife, or wear his chains, Who, by the Corybants presented, dwell With great Cybele. Dearest Lord, farewell. I called, I cried, endeavoured to have stayed With my deluded arms the flitting shade, That cruelly regardless of my moans Leaves me embracing air and thawing stones. The night was wasted. I return and find Our company increased in every kind: A miserable multitude implore Me but to set 'em upon any shore. The morning from mount Ida blushed to show Our gates, not to be rescued from the foe; When with my father and my helpless flocks I fled unto the refuge of the rocks. FINIS. Inconstancy. HE who at first a woman's mind Compared to the inconstant wind, Did it in gratitude, not spleen, For, had this ever constant been, We that in wealth to pomp abound Had scarce for needful uses found. It is his varied dance that leads Us to the eastern spicy meads, And back again our course declines To dig in the rich western mines, Where should it stand still to one coast The traffic of the world were lost. On Florella's coming to be a maid of honour. WHen in Florella first I viewed The charms which more than I have rued, She passed here time in speckled bowers And dwelled among the Country flowers. My wonder lending fame a wing This beauty to the Court to bring, The virgin straight began to wear An heart as hard as she was fair. So Divers from the deep invite The hidden coral to the light, When at the touch of air alone The tender plant turns precious stone. FINIS.