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I am now drawing towards a conclusion, and suspect your lordship is very glad of it. But permit me first to own what helps I have had in this undertaking. The late earl of Lauderdale sent me over his new translation of the Encis, which he had ended before I engaged in the same design; neither did I then intend it; but some proposals being afterwards made me by my bookseller, I desired his lordship's leave, that I might accept them, which he freely granted; and I have his letter yet to show for that permission. He resolved to have printed his work, which he might have done two years before I could publish mine; and had performed it, if death had not prevented him. But having his manuscript in my hands, I consulted it as often as I doubted of my author's sense for no man understood Virgil better than that learned nobleman. His friends, I hear, have yet another and more correct copy of that transla- is too ambitious an ornament to be his; and, tion by them: which had they pleased to have given the public, the judges must have been convinced that I have not flattered him. Besides this help, which was not inconsiderable, Mr. Congreve has done me the favour to review the neis, and compare my version with the original. I shall never be ashamed to own that this excellent young man has showed me many faults, which I have endeavoured to correct. It is true, he might have easily found more, and then my translation had been more perfect.

in particular to men and ladies of the first quality, who have been better bred than to be too nicely knowing in the terms. In such cases, it is enough for a poet to write so plainly that he may be understood by his readers; to avoid impropriety, and not affect to be thought learned in all things.

I have omitted the four preliminary lines of the first Æneid, because I think them inferior to any four others in the whole poem, and consequently believe they are not Virgil's. There is too great a gap betwixt the adjective vicina in the second line, and the substantive arva in the latter end of the third, which keeps his meaning in obscurity too long; and is contrary to the clearness of his style.

Two other worthy friends of mine, who desire to have their names concealed, seeing me straitened in my time, took pity on me, and gave me the life of Virgil; the two prefaces to the Pastorals and the Georgics, and all the arguments in prose to the whole translation: which, perhaps, has caused a report that the two first poems are not mine. If it had been true that I had taken their verses for my own, I might have gloried in their aid; and, like Terence, have fathered the opinion that Scipio and Lælius joined with me. But the same style being continued through the whole, and the same laws of versification observed, are proofs sufficient that this is one man's work: and your lordship is too well acquainted with my manner to doubt that any part of it is another's.

That your lordship may see I was in earnest when I promised to hasten to an end, I will not give the reasons why I writ not always in the proper terms of navigation, land-service, or in the cant of any profession. I will only say, that Virgil has avoided those proprieties, because he writ not to mariners, soldiers, astronomers, gardeners, peasants, &c. but to all in general, and

Ut quamvis avido,

Gratum opus agricolis,

are all words unnecessary, and independent of what he said before.

Horrentia Martis arma.

Horrentia is

is worse than any of the rest.
such a flat epithet as Tully would have given us
in his verses. It is a mere filler, to stop a vacancy
in the hexameter, and connect the preface to
the work of Virgil. Our author seems to sound
a charge, and begins like the clangor of a
trumpet:

Arma, virumque cano; Trojæ qui primus ab

oris.

Scarce a word without an r, and the vowels, for the greater part, sonorous. The prefacer began with Ille ego, which he was constrained to patch up in the fourth line with At nunc, to make the sense cohere. And if both those words are not notorious botches, I am much deceived, though the French translator thinks otherwise. For my own part, I am rather of the opinion, that they were added by Tucca and Varius, than retrenched.

I know it may be answered by such as think Virgil the author of the four lines, that he asserts his title to the Æneis, in the beginning of this work, as he did to the two former, in the last lines of the fourth Georgic. I will not reply otherwise to this, than by desiring them to compare these four lines with the four others, which we know are his, because no poet but he alone could write them. If they cannot distinguish creeping from flying, let them lay down Virgil, and take up Ovid de Ponto in his stead. My

poet to prove his claim. His own majestic mien
discovers him to be the king, amidst a thousand
courtiers. It was a superfluous office, and there-
fore I would not set those verses in the front
of Virgil, but have rejected them to my own
preface:

I, who before, with shepherds in the groves,
Sung to my oaten pipe their rural loves,
And issuing thence, compell'd the neighbouring

field

master needed not the assistance of that preliminary | wonder if I often fall asleep. You took my Aurengzeb into your protection, with all his faults; and I hope here cannot be so many, because I translate an author who gives me such examples of correctness. What my jury may be, I know not; but it is good for a criminal to plead before a favourable judge; if I had said partial, would your lordship have forgiven me? Or will you give me leave to acquaint the world, that I have many Revolution? Though I never was reduced to beg times been obliged to your bounty since the A plenteous crop of rising corn to yield, a charity, nor ever had the impudence to ask one, Manur'd the glebe, and stock'd the fruitful plain, earl of Dorset, much less of any other; yet, either of your lordship or your noble kinsman the (A poem grateful to the greedy swain), &c. If there be not a tolerable line in all these six, bered me: so inherent it is in your family not to when I least expected it, you have both rememthe prefacer gave me no occasion to write better. forget an old servant. It looks rather like ingratiThis is a just apology in this place. But I have done great wrong to Virgil in the whole transla-obliged, I have appeared so seldom to return my tude on my part, that where I have been so often tion: want of time, the inferiority of our language, the inconvenience of rhyme and all the other excuses I have made, may alleviate my fault, but cannot justify the boldness of my undertaking. What avails it me to acknowledge freely, that I have not been able to do him right in any line! For even my own confession makes against me; and it will always be returned upon me, Why then did you attempt it? to which no other answer can be made, than that I have done him less injury than any of his former libellers.

sured.

thanks, and where I was also so sure of being well received. Somewhat of laziness was in the case, and somewhat too of modesty, but nothing of disrespect or unthankfulness. I will not say that your lordship has encouraged me to this presump. in public, I may expose your judgment to be cention, lest, if my labours meet with no success think them worth an answer; and if your lordAs for my own enemies, I shall never ship has any, they will not dare to arraign you produce somewhat better of their own, than your for want of knowledge in this art, till they can Essay on Poetry. It was on this consideration that I have drawn out my preface to so great a up the pencil with disdain; being satisfied before-length. Had I not addressed to a poet and a critic hand that I could make some small resemblance of the first magnitude, I had myself been taxed of him, though I must be content with a worse likeness. A sixth Pastoral, a Pharmaceutria, a single Orpheus, and some other features, have been exactly taken; but those holiday authors write for pleasure, and only showed us what they could have done, if they would have taken pains to perform the whole.

What they called his picture, had been drawn at length so many times by the daubers of almost

all nations, and still so unlike him, that I snatched

Be pleased, my lord, to accept, with your wonted goodness, this unworthy present which I make you. I have taken off one trouble from you, of defending it, by acknowledging its imper

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fections: and, though some part of them are covered in the verse (as Ericthonius rode always in a chariot to hide his lameness), such of them as cannot be concealed you will please to connive at, though, in the strictness of your judgment, you cannot pardon. If Homer was allowed to nod sometimes, in so long a work, it will be no

for want of judgment, and shamed my patron for
lord, so soon be tired as any other, because the
want of understanding. But neither will you, my
discourse is on your art: neither will the learned
reader think it tedious, because it is ad clerum.
At least, when he begins to be weary, the church-
doors are open.
with a short prayer, after a long sermon,
That I may pursue the allegory

of your country, the encouragement of good
May you live happily and long, for the service
letters, and the ornament of poetry! which
cannot be wished more earnestly by any man,
than by

your lordship's

most humble, most obliged,
and most obedient servant,
JOHN DRYDEN.

THE FIRST BOOK OP

THE ÆNEIS.

THE ARGUMENT.

The grace bestow'd on ravish'd Ganymed,
Electra's glories, and her injur'd bed.
Each was a cause alone, and all combin'd
To kindle vengeance in her haughty mind.
For this, far distant from the Latian coast,
She drove the remnants of the Trojan host:
And seven long years th' unhappy wandering train
Were toss'd by storms and scatter'd through the
main.

Such time, such toil, requir'd the Roman name,
Such length of labour for so vast a frame.

THE Trojans, after a seven years' voyage, set sail for Italy; but are overtaken by the dreadful storm, which Eolus raises at Juno's request. The tempest sinks one, and scatters the rest. Neptune dr ves off the winds, and calms the sea. Eneas, with his own ship, and six more, arrives safe at an African port. Venus complains to Jupiter of her son's misfortunes. Jupiter comforts her, and sends Mercury to procure him a kind reception among the Carthaginians. Eneas," going out to discover the country, meets his mother in the shape of an huntress, who conveys him in a cloud to Carthage: where he sees his friends whom he thought lost, and receives a kind entertainment from the queen. Dido, by a device of Venus, begins to have a passion for him, and after some discourse with him, desires the history of his adventures since the siege of Troy, which is the subject of the two following

books.

ARMS and the man I sing, who, forc'd by fate,
And haught Juno's unrelenting hate,
Expell'd and exil'd, left the Trojan shore;
Long labours, both by sea and land, he bore;
And in the doubtful war, before he won
The Latian realm, and built the destin'd town:
His banish'd gods restor❜d to rites divine,
And settled sure succession in his line:
From whence the race of Alban fathers come,
And the long glories of majestic Rome.

O, Muse! the causes and the crimes relate,
What goddess was p.ovok'd, and whence her hate;
For what offence the queen of Heaven began
To persecute so brave, so just a man!
Involv'd his anxions life in endless cares,
Expos'd to wants, and hurry'd into wars!
Can heavenly minds such high resentment show;
Or exercise their spite in human woe ?

Against the Tyber's mouth, but far away, An ancient town was seated on the sea: A Tyrian colony; the people made Stout for the war, and studious of their trade. Carthage the name, belov'd by Juno more Than her own Argos, or the Samian shore. Here stood her chariot, here, if Heaven were kind, The seat of awful empire she design'd. Yet she had heard an ancient rumour fly (Long cited by the people of the sky) That times to come should see the Trojan race Her Carthage ruin, and her towers deface; Nor, thus confin'd, the yoke of sovereign sway Should on the necks of all the nations lay. She ponder'd this, and fear'd it was in fate; Nor could forget the war she wag'd of late, For conquering Greece against the Trojan state. Besides, long causes working in her mind, And secret seeds of envy, lay behind. Deep graven in her heart, the doom remain'd Of partial Paris, and her form disdain'd

Now scarce the Trojan fleet with sails and oars Had left behind the fair Sicilian shores; Entering with cheerful shouts the watery reign, And ploughing frothy furrows in the main; When, labouring still with endless discontent, The queen of Heaven did thus her fury vent. "Then am I vanquish'd, must I yield," said she, And must the Trojans reign in Italy? So fate will have it, and Jove adds his force; Nor can my power divert their happy course. Could angry Pallas, with revengeful spleen, The Grecian navy burn, and drown the men? She, for the fault of one offending foe, The bolts of Jove himself presum'd to throw: With whilwinds from beneath she toss'd the ship, And bare expos'd the bosom of the deep: Then, as an eagle gripes the trembling game, The wretch yet hissing with her father's flame, She strongly seiz'd, and, with a burning wound, Transfix'd and naked, on a rock she bound. But I, who walk in awful state above, The majesty of Haven, the sister-wife of Jove, For length of years my fruitless force employ Against the thin remains of ruin'd Troy. What nations now to Juno's power will pray, Or offerings on my slighted altars lay?"

Thus rag'd the goddess, and, with fury fraught, The restless regions of the storms she sought; Where, in a spacious cave of living stone, The tyrant Eolus from his airy throne, With power imperial curbs the struggling winds, | And sounding tempests in dark prisons binds, This way, and that, th' impatient captives tend, And, pressing for release, the mountains rend: High in his hall, th' undaunted monarch stands, And shakes his sceptre, and their rage commands: Which did he not, their unresisted sway Would sweep the world before them in their way: Earth, air, and seas, through empty space would

roll,

And Heaven would fly before the driving soul!
In fear of this, the father of the gods
Confin'd their fury to those dark abodes,
And lock'd them safe within, oppress'd with moun
tain loads:

Impos'd a king, with arbitrary sway,
To loose their fetters, or their force allay.
To whom the suppliant queen her prayers addrest,
And thus the tenour of her suit express'd.

"O Eolus! for to thee the king of Heaven
The power of tempests and of winds has given:
Thy force alone their fury can restrain,
And smooth the waves, or swell the troubled main:
A race of wandering slaves abhorr'd by me,
With prosperous passage cut the Thuscan sea:
To fruitful Italy their course they steer,
[there
And for their vanquish'd gods design new temples
Raise all thy winds, with night involve the skies;
Sink or disperse my fatal enemies.

Twice seven, the charming daughters of the main,
Around my person wait, and bear my train:
Succeed my wish, and second my design,
The fairest, Deiopeia, shall be thine;
And make thee father of a happy line."

To this the god-" "Tis yours, O queen! to will
The work, which duty binds me to fulfil.
These airy kingdoms, and this wide command,
Are all the presents of your bounteous hand;
Yours is my sovereign's grace, and as your guest,
I sit with gods at their celestial feast;
Raise tempests at your pleasure, or subdue;
Dispose of empire, which I hold from you!"
He said, and hurl'd against the mountain side
His quivering spear, and all the god apply'd!
The raging winds rush through the hollow wound,
And dance aloft in air, and skim along the ground:
Then, settling on the sea, the surges sweep;
Raise liquid mountains, and disclose the deep!
South, east, and west, with mixt confusion roar,
And roll the foaming billows to the shore.
The cables crack, the sailors' fearful cries
Ascend; and sable night involves the skies;
And Heaven itself is ravish'd from their eyes!
Loud peals of thunder from the poles ensue,
Then flashing fires the transient light renew;
The face of things a frightful image bears,
And present death in various forms appears!
Struck with unusual fright, the Trojan chief,
With lifted hands and eyes, invokes relief!
"And thrice, and four times happy those," he cry'd,
"That under Ilian walls before their parents dy'd!
Tydides, bravest of the Grecian train,
Why could not I by that strong arm be slain,
And lie by noble Hector on the plain :
O great Sarpedon, in those bloody fields,
Where Simois rolls the bodies and the shields
Of heroes, whose dismember'd hands yet bear
The dart aloft, and clench the pointed spear!"
Thus while the pious prince his fate bewails,
Fierce Boreas drove against his flying sails,
And rent the sheets: the raging billows rise,
And mount the tossing vessel to the skies:
Nor can the shivering oars sustain the blow;
The galley gives her side, and turns her prow:
While those astern descending down the steep,
Through gaping waves behold the boiling deep!
Three ships were hurry'd by the southern blast,
And on the secret shelves with fury cast!
Those hidden rocks, th' Ausonian sailors knew,
They call'd them altars, when they rose in view,
And show'd their spacious backs above the flood!
Three more fierce Eurus in his angry mood
Dash'd on the shallows of the moving sand,
And in mid ocean left them moor'd a-land!
Orontes' bark that bore the Lycian crew,
(A horrid sight) ev'n in the hero's view,
From stem to stern, by waves was overborn :
The trembling pilot. from his rudder torn,
Was headlong hurl'd: thrice round, the ship was
tost,

Then bulg'd at once, and in the deep was lost!
And here and there above the waves were seen
Arms, pictures, precious goods, and floating men!
The stoutest vessel to the storm gave way,
And suck'd through loosen'd planks the rushing sea!
Ilioneus was her chief: Alethes old,
Achates faithful, Abas young and bold,
Endur'd not less: their ships, with gaping seams,
Admit the deluge of the briny streams!

Meantime imperial Neptune heard the sound Of raging billows breaking on the ground: Displeas'd, and fearing for his watery reign, He rear'd his awful head above the main: Serene in majesty, then roll'd his eyes Around this space of earth, and sers, and skies. He saw the Trojan fleet dispers'd, distress'd, By stormy winds and wintery heaven oppress'd. Full well the god his sister's envy knew, And what her aims and what her arts pursue : He summon'd Eurus and the western blast, And first an angry glance on both he cast: Then thus rebuk'd: "Audacious winds! from This bold attempt, this rebel insolence? [whence Is it for you to ravage seas and land, Unauthoriz'd by my supreme command? To raise such mountains on the troubled main? Whom I-But first 'tis fit the billows to restrain, And then you shall be taught obedience to my Hence, to your lord my royal mandate bear, [reign. The realms of ocean and the fields of air Are mine, not his by fatal lot to me The liquid empire fell, and trident of the sea. His power to hollow caverns is confin'd, There let him reign, the jailor of the wind: With hoarse commands his breathing subjects call, And boast and bluster in his empty hall!" He spoke; and while he spoke, he smooth'd the sea, Dispell'd the darkness, and restor❜d the day: Cymothoë, Triton, and the seagreen train Of beauteous nymphs, and daughters of the main, Clear from the rocks the vessels with their hands; The god himself with ready trident stands, And opes the deep, and spreads the moving sands; Then heaves them off the shoals: where'er he guides His finny coursers, and in triumph rides, The waves unruffle, and the sea subsides. As when in tumults rise th' ignoble crowd, Mad are their motions, and their tongues are loud; And stones and brands in rattling vollies fly, And all the rustic arms that fury can supply; If then some grave and pious man appear, They hush their noise, and lend a listening ear; He soothes with sober words their angry mood, And quenches their innate desire of blood: So when the father of the flood appears, And o'er the seas his sovereign trident rears, Their fury fails: he skims the liquid plains, High on his chariot, and with loosen'd reins Majestic moves along, and awful peace maintains. The weary Trojans ply their shatter'd oars To nearest land, and make the Libyan shores. Within a long recess there lies a bay, An island shades it from the rolling sea, And forms a port secure for ships to ride, Broke by the jutting land on either side: In double streams the briny waters glide. Betwixt two rows of rocks, a sylvan scene Appears above, and groves for ever green: A grot is form'd beneath, with mossy seats, To rest the Nereids, and exclude the heats. Down through the crannies of the living walls The crystal streams descend in murmuring falls. No hawsers need to bind the vessels here, Nor bearded anchors, for no storms they fear. Seven ships within this happy harbour meet, The thin remainders of the scatter'd fleet. The Trojans, worn with toils, and spent with woes, Leap on the welcome land, and seek their wish'd

repose.

First, good Achates, with repeated strokes
Of clashing flints, their hidden fire provokes;
Short flame succeeds; a bed of wither'd leaves
The dying sparkles in their fall receives:
Caught into life, in fiery fumes they rise,
And, fed with stronger food, invade the skies.
The Trojans, dropping wet, or stand around
The cheerful blaze, or lie along the ground;
Some dry their corn infected with the brine,
Then grind with marbles, and prepare to dine.
Eneas climbs the mountain's airy brow,
And takes a prospect of the seas below:
If Capys thence, or Antheus, he could spy;
Or see the streamers of Caïcus fly.

No vessels there in view: but, on the plain,
Three beamy stags command a lordly train
Of branching heads; the more ignoble throng
Attend their stately steps, and slowly graze along.
He stood; and while secure they fed below,
He took the quiver, and the trusty bow
Achates used to bear; the leaders first
He laid along, and then the vulgar pierc'd;
Nor ceas'd his arrows, till the shady plain
Seven mighty bodies with their blood distain.
For the seven ships he made an equal share,
And to the port return'd, triumphant from the

war.

The jars of generous wine (Acestes' gift,
When his Trinacrian shores the navy left)
He set abroach, and for the feast prepar'd,
In equal portions with the ven'son shar'd.
Thus while he dealt it round, the pious chief,
With cheerful words, allay'd the common grief:
"Endure, and conquer; Jove will soon dispose,
To future good, our past and present woes.
With me, the rocks of Scylla you have try'd,
Th' inhuman Cyclops, and his den defy'd.
What greater ills hereafter can you bear?
Resume your courage, and dismiss your care.
An hour will come, with pleasure to relate
Your sorrows past, as benefits of fate.
Through various hazards and events we move
To Latium, and the realms foredoom'd by Jove.
Call'd to the seat (the promise of the skies)
Where Trojan kingdoms once again may rise.
Endure the hardships of your present state,
Live, and reserve yourselves for better fate."

When Venus saw, she with a lively look,
Not free from tears, her heavenly sire bespoke :
"O king of gods and men, whose awful hand
Disperses thunder on the seas and land;
Disposes all with absolute command:
How could my pious son thy power incense?
Or what, alas! is vanish'd Troy's offence?
Our hope of Italy not only lost

On various seas, by various tempests tost, [coast.
But shut from every shore, and barr'd from every
You promis'd once, a progeny divine,

Of Romans, rising from the Trojan line,
In aftertimes should hold the world in awe,
And to the land and occan give the law.
How is your doom revers'd, which eas'd my care
When Troy was ruim'd in that cruel war!
Then fates to fates I could oppose; but now,
When Fortune still pursues her former blow,
What can I hope? What worse can still succeed?
What end of labours has your will decreed?
Antenor, from the midst of Grecian hosts,
Could pass secure, and pierce th' Illyrian coasts;
Where, rolling down the steep, Timavus raves,
And through nine channels disembogues his waves,
At length he founded Padua's happy seat,
And gave his Trojans a secure retreat:
There fix'd their arms, and there renew'd their
name,

And there in quiet rules, and crown'd with fame;
But we, descended from your sacred line,
Entitled to your Heaven and rites divine,
Are banish'd Earth, and for the wrath of one,
Remov'd from Latium, and the promis'd throne.
Are these our sceptres? these our due rewards?
And is it thus that Jove his plighted faith regards?"
To whom, the father of immortal race,
Smiling with that serene indulgent face,
With which he drives the clouds and clears the
skies,

First gave a holy kiss; then thus replies:

66

Daughter, dismiss thy fears: to thy desire The fates of thine are fix'd, and stand entire. Thou shalt behold thy wish'd Lavinian walls, And, ripe for Heaven, when fate Æneas calls, Then shalt thou bear him up, sublime, to me; No councils have revers'd my firm decree. And, lest new fears disturb thy happy state,

These words he spoke; but spoke not from his Know, I have search'd the mystic rolls of fate :

heart:

His outward smiles conceal'd his inward smart.
The jolly crew, unmindful of the past,

The quarry share, their plenteous dinner haste:
Some strip the skin, some portion out the spoil;
The limbs, yet trembling, in the caldrons boil:
Some on the fire the reeking entrails broil.
Stretch'd on the grassy turf, at case they dine;
Restore their strength with meat, and cheer their
souls with wine.

Their hunger thus appeas'd, their care attends
The doubtful fortune of their absent friends,
Alternate hopes and fears their minds possess,
Whether to deem them dead, or in distress.
Above the rest, Æneas mourns the fate
Of brave Orontes, and th' uncertain state
Of Gyas, Lycus, and of Amycus:
The day, but not their sorrows, ended thus.
When, from aloft, almighty Jove surveys
Earth, air, and shores, and navigable seas,
At length on Libyan realms he fixt his eyes:
Whom, pondering thus on human miseries,

Thy son (nor is th' appointed season far)-
In Italy shall wage successful war;
Shall tame fierce nations in the bloody field,
And sovereign laws impose, and cities build.
Till, after every foe subdued, the Sun
Thrice through the signs his annual race shall run:
This is his time prefix'd. Ascanius then,
Now call'd Iulus, shall begin his reign.
He thirty rolling years the crown shall wear:
Then from Lavinium shall the seat transfer:
And, with hard labour, Alba Longa build;
The throne with his succession shall be fill'd,
Three hundred circuits more: then shall be seen,
Ilia the fair, a priestess and a queen.
Who, full of Mars, in time, with kindly throws
Shall, at a birth, two goodly boys disclose.
The royal babes a tawny wolf shall drain,
Then Romulus his grandsire's throne shall gain,
Of martial towers the founder shall become,
The people Romans call, the city Rome.
To them, no bounds of empire I assign;
Nor term of years to their immortal line.

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