Haste then, and humbly seek my haughty foe;
Tell him, I did not with the Grecians go;
Nor did iny fleet against his friends employ,
Nor swore the ruin of unhappy Troy;
Nor mov'd with hands prophane his father's dust;
Why should he then reject a suit so just!
Whom does he shun, and whither would he fly?
Can be this last, this only prayer deny!
Let him at least his dangerous flight delay,
Wait better winds, and hope a calmer sea.
The nuptials he disclaims, I urge no more;
Let him pursue the promis'd Latian shore.
A short delay is all I ask him now,

A

pause of grief, an interval from woe:
Till my soft soul be temper'd to sustain
Accustom'd sorrows, and inur'd to pain.
If you in pity grant this one reques

My death shall glut the hatred of his breast."
This mournful message pious Anna bears,
And seconds, with her own, her sister's tears:
But all her arts are still employ'd in vain;
Again she comes, and is refus'd again. [move;
His harden'd heart nor prayers nor threatenings
Fate, and the god, had stopp'd his ears to love.
As when the winds their airy quarrel try,
Justling from every quarter of the sky,
This way and that the mountain oak they bend,
His boughs they shatter, and his branches rend;
With leaves and falling mast they spread the
The hollow valleys echo to the sound;
Unmov'd, the royal plant their fury mocks,
Or, shaken, clings more closely to the rocks:
Far as he shoots his towering head on high,
So deep in earth his fix'd foundations lie:
No less a storm the Trojan hero bears;
Thick messages and loud complaints he hears,
And bandy'd words still beating on his ears.
Sighs, groans, and tears, proclaim his inward
pains,

But the firm purpose of his heart remains.

[ground,

The wretched queen, pursu'd by cruel fate, Begins at length the light of Heaven to hate, And loaths to live: then dire portents she sees, To hasten-on the death her soul decrees; Strange to relate: for when, before the shrine, She pours, in sacrifice, the purple wine, The purple wine is turn'd to putrid blood, And the white offer'd milk converts to mud. This dire presage, to her alone reveal'd, From all, and ev'n her sister, she conccal'd. A marble temple stood within the grove, Sacred to death, and to her murder'd love; That honour'd chapel she had hung around With snowy fleeces, and with garlands crown'd: . Oft, when she visited this lonely dome, Strange voices issued from her husband's tomb: She thought she heard him summon her away, Invite her to his grave, and chide her stay. Hourly 'tis heard, when, with a boding note, The solitary screech-owl strains her throat: And on a chimney's top, or turret's height, With songs obscene disturbs the silence of the night. Besides, old prophecies augment her fears, And stern Æneas in her dreams appears Disdainful as by day: she seems alone To wander in her sleep, through ways unknown, Guideless and dark: or, in a desert plain, To seek her subjects, and to seek in vain. Like Pentheus, when, distracted with his fear, He saw two suns, and double Thebes appear:

Or mad Orestes, when his mother's ghost
Full in his face infernal torches toss'd;
And shook her snaky locks: he shuns the sight,
Flies o'er the stage, surpris'd with mortal fright;
The furies guard the door, and intercept his
flight.

Now, sinking underneath a load of grief,
From death alone she seeks her last relief:
The time and means resolv'd within her breast,
She to her mournful sister thus address'd
(Dissembling hope, her cloudy front she clears,
And a false vigour in her eyes appears):
"Rejoice," she said, "instructed from above,
My lover I shall gain, or lose my love.
Nigh rising Atlas, next the falling Sun,
Long tracts of Ethiopian climates run:
There a Massylian princess I have found,
Honour'd for age, for magic arts renown'd;
Th' Hesperian temple was her trusted care;
'Twas she supply'd the wakeful dragon's fare.
She poppy-seeds in honey taught to steep,
Reclaim'd his rage, and sooth'd him into sleep.
She watch'd the golden fruit; her charms unbind
The chains of love, or fix them on the mind.
She stops the torrents, leaves the channel dry;
Repels the stars, and backward bears the sky.
The yawning earth rebellows to her call,
Pale ghosts ascend, and mountain ashes fall.
Witness, ye gods, and thou my better part,
How loth I am to try this impious art'
Within the secret court with silent care,
Erect a lofty pile, expos'd in air;

Hang on the topmost part the Trojan vest,
Spoils, arms and presents of my faithless guest.
Next, under these, the bridal bed be plac'd,
Where I my ruin in his arms embrac❜d:
All relics of the wretch are doom'd to fire,
For so the priestess and her charms require."
Thus far she said, and farther speech for-

bears:

A mortal paleness in her face appears :
Yet the mistrustless Anna could not find
The secret funeral in these rites design'd,
Nor thought so dire a rage possess'd her mind.
Unknowing of a train conceal'd so well,
She fear'd no worse than when Sichæus fell:
Therefore obeys. The fatal pile they rear
Within the secret court, expos'd in air.
The cloven holms and pines are heap'd on high;
And garlands on the hollow spaces lie.
Sad cypress, vervain, yew, compose the wreath,
And every baleful green denoting death.
The queen, determin'd to the fatal deed,
The spoils and sword he left, in order spread:
And the man's image on the nuptial bed.

And now (the sacred altars plac'd around)
The priestess enters, with her hair unbound,
And thrice invokes the powers below the ground.
Night, Erebus, and Chaos, she proclaims,
And threefold Hecate, with her hundred names,
And three Dianas: next she sprinkles round,
With feign'd Avernian drops, the hallow'd ground:
Culls hoary simples, found by Phoebe's light,
With brazen sickles reap'd at noon of night.
Then mixes baleful juices in the bowl,
And cuts the forehead of a new-born foal;
Robbing the mother's love. The destin'd queen
Observes, assisting at the rites obscene!

A leaven'd cake in her devoted hands
She holds, and next the highest altar stands:

One tender foot was shod, her other bare,
Girt was her gather'd gown, and loose her hair.
Thus dress'd, she summon'd, with her dying
breath,

The Heavens and planets, conscious of her death;
And every power, if any rules above,
Who minds, or who revenges, injur'd love.

"Twas dead of night, when weary bodies close
Their eyes in balmy sleep and soft repose:
The winds no longer whisper through the woods,
Nor murmuring tides disturb the gentle floods,
The stars in silent order mov'd around,

And peace, with downy wings, was brooding on the ground.

The flocks and herds, and partycolour'd fowl,
Which haunt the woods, or swim the weedy pool,
Stretch'd on the quiet earth securely lay,
Forgetting the past labours of the day.
All else of Nature's common gift partake;
Unhappy Dido was alone awake.

Nor sleep nor ease the furious queen can find;
Sleep fled her eyes, as quiet fled her mind.
Despair, and rage, and love, divide her heart:
Despair and rage had some, but love the greater
part.

Then thus she said within her secret mind:
"What shall I do; what succour can I find?
Become a suppliant to Hiarba's pride,
And take my turn, to court and be deny'd !
Shall I with this ungrateful Trojan go,
Forsake an empire, and attend a foe?
Himself I refug'd, and his train reliev'd;
'Tis true: but am I sure to be receiv'd?
Can gratitude in Trojan souls have place?
Laomedon still lives in all his race!

Then, shall I seek alone the churlish crew,
And with my fleet their flying sails pursue?
What force have I but those, whom scarce before
I drew reluctant from their native shore?
Will they again embark at my desire
Once more sustain the seas, and quit their
second Tyre?

Rather with steel thy guilty breast invade,
And take the fortune thou thyself hast made.
Your pity, sister, first seduc'd my mind;
Or seconded too well what I design'd.
These dear-bought pleasures had I never known,
Had I continued free, and still my own;
Avoiding love, I had not found despair:
But shar'd, with savage beasts, the common air;
Like them a lonely life I might have led,
Not mourn'd the living, nor disturb'd the dead."
These thoughts she brooded in her anxious breast;
On board, the Trojan found more easy rest.
Resolv'd to sail, in sleep he pass'd the night;
And order'd all things for bis early flight,
To whom once more the winged god appears:
His former youthful mien and shape he wears,
And, with this new alarm, invades his ears:
Sleep'st thou, O goddess-born! and canst thou
drown

Thy needful cares, so near a hostile town,
Beset with foes? nor hear'st the western gales
Invite thy passage, and inspire thy sails?
She harbours in her heart a furious hate;
And thou shalt find the dire effects too late;
Fixt on revenge, and obstinate to die;
Haste swiftly hence, while thou hast power to fly.
The sea with ships will soon be cover'd o'er,
And blazing firebrands kindle all the shore.

Prevent her rage, while night obscures the skies;
And sail before the purple morn arise.
Who knows what hazards thy delay may bring?
Woman's a various and a changeful thing."
Thus Hermes in the dream; then took his flight,
Aloft in air unseen; and mix'd with night.

Twice warn'd by the celestial messenger,
The pious prince arose with hasty fear:
Then rous'd his drowsy train without delay.
"Haste to your banks; your crooked anchors weigh;
And spread your flying sails, and stand to sea.
A god commands; he stood before my sight;
And urg'd us once again to speedy flight.
O sacred power, what power soe'er thou art,
To thy bless'd orders I resign my heart:
Lead thou the way; protect thy Trojan bands;
And prosper the design thy will commands."
He said, and, drawing forth his flaming sword,
His thundering arm divides the many-twisted cord:
An emulating zeal inspires his train;
They run, they snatch; they rush into the main.
With headlong haste they leave the desert shores,
And brush the liquid seas with labouring oars.

66

Aurora now had left her saffron bed, And beams of early light the Heavens o'erspread, When from a tower the queen, with wakeful eyes, Saw day point upward from the rosy skies: She look'd to seaward, but the sea was void, And scarce in ken the sailing ships descry'd; Stung with despite, and furious with despair, She struck her trembling breast, and tore her hair. And shall th' ungrateful traitor go," she said, My land forsaken, and my love betray'd? Shall we not arm, not rush from every street, To follow, sink, and burn his perjur'd fleet? Waste; haul my gallies out; pursue the foe: Bring flaming brands; set sail, and swiftly row. What have I said? Where am I? Fury turns My brain, and my distemper'd bosom burns. Then, when I gave my person and my throne, This hate, this rage, had been more timely shown. See now the promis'd faith, the vaunted name, The pious man, who, rushing through the flame, Preserv'd his gods and to the Phrygian shore The burden of his feeble father bore!

[floods

I should have torn him piece-meal; strow'd in
His scatter'd limbs, or left expos'd in woods;
Destroy'd his friends and son; and, from the fire,
Have set the reeking boy before the sire.
Events are doubtful which on battle wait;
Yet where's the doubt to souls secure of fate!
My Tyrians, at their injur'd queen's command,
Had toss'd their fires amid the Trojan band:
At once extinguish'd all the faithless name;
And I myself in vengeance of my shame,
Had fall'n upon the pile to mend the funeral flame.
Thou Sun, who view'st at once the world below,
Thou Juno, guardian of the nuptial vow,
Thou Hecate, hearken from thy dark abodes;
Ye furies, fiends, and violated gods,

All powers invok'd with Dido's dying breath,
Attend her curses, and avenge her death.
If so the fates ordain, and Jove commands,
Th' ungrateful wretch should find the Latian lands,
Yet let a race untam'd, and haughty foes,
His peaceful entrance with dire arms oppose;
Opprest with numbers in th' unequal field,
His men discourag'd, and himself expell'd;
Let him for succour sue from place to place,
Torn from his subjects, and his son's embrace:

MEANTIME the Trojan cuts his watery way,
Fix'd on his voyage through the curling sea:
Then, casting back his eyes, with dire amaze,
Sees, on the Punic shore, the mounting blaze.
The cause unknown; yet his presaging mind
The fate of Dido from the fire divin'd:
He knew the stormy souls of woman-kind,
What secret springs their eager passions move,
How capable of death for injur'd love.
Dire auguries from hence the Trojans draw,
Till neither fires nor shining shores they saw.
Now seas and skies their prospect only bound,
An empty space above, a floating field around.
But soon the Heavens with shadows were o'er.
spread;

66

A swelling cloud hung hovering o'er their head;
Livid it look'd, the threatening of a storm;
Then night and horrour ocean's face deform,
The pilot, Palinurus, cry'd aloud,
"What gusts of weather from that gathering cloud
My thoughts presage! Ere yet the tempest roars
Stand to your tackle, mates, and stretch your oars;
Contract your swelling sails, and luff to wind:"
The frighted crew perform the task assign'd.
Then, to his fearless chief, "Not Heaven," said he,
Though Jove himself should promise Italy,
Can stem the torrent of this raging sea!
Mark how the shifting winds from west arise,
And what collected night involves the skies!
Nor can our shaken vessels live at sea;
Much less against the tempest force their way;
'Tis fate diverts our course, and fate we must obey.
Not far from hence, if I observ'd aright
The southing of the stars, and polar light,
Sicilia lies; whose hospitable shores
In safety we may reach with struggling oars."
Eneas then reply'd, "Too sure I find,
We strive in vain against the seas and wind:
Now shift your sails: what place can please me

more

Than what you promise, the Sicilian shore ; Whose hollow'd earth Anchises' bones contains, And where a prince of Trojan lineage reigns!" The course resolv'd, before the western wind They scud amain, and make the port assign'd, Meantime Acestes, from a lofty stand, Beheld the fleet descending on the land;

not unmindful of his ancient race,
Down from the cliff he rau with eager pace,
And held the hero in a strict embrace.
Of a rough Libyan bear the spoils he wore;
And either hand a pointed javelin bore.
His mother was a dame of Dardan blood;
His sire Crinisius, a Sicilian flood;
He welcomes his returning friends ashore
With plenteous country cates, and homely store.
Now, when the following morn had chas'd away
The flying stars, and light restor'd the day,
Eneas call'd the Trojan troops around,
And thus bespoke them from a rising ground:
Off pring of Heaven, divine Dardanian race,
The Sun revolving through th' ethereal space,
The shining circle of the year has fill'd,
Since first this isle my father's ashes held:
And now the rising day renews the year
(A day for ever sad, for ever dear).
This would I celebrate with annual games,
With gifts on altars pil'd, and holy flames,
Though banish'd to Getulia's barren sands,
Caught on the Grecian seas, or hostile lands:
But since this happy storm our fleet has driven
(Not, as I deem, without the will of Heaven)
Upon these friendly shores and flowery plains,
Which hide Anchises, and his blest remains,
Let us with joy perform his honours due, [renew.
And pray for prosperous winds, our voyage to
Pray that in towns and temples of our own,
The name of great Anchises may be known,
And yearly games may spread the god's renown.
Our sports, Acestes, of the Trojan race,
With royal gifts ordain'd, is pleas'd to grace:
Two steers on every ship the king bestows;
His gods and ours shall share your equal vows.
Besides, if nine days hence, the rosy morn
Shall, with unclouded light, the skies adorn,
That day with solemn sports I mean to grace:
Light gallies on the seas shall run a watery race.
Some shall in swiftness for the goal contend,
And others try the twanging bow to bend :
The strong with iron gauntlets arm'd shall stand,
Oppos'd in combat on the yellow sand.
Let all be present at the games prepir'd,
And joyful victors wait the just reward.
But now assist the rites, with garlands crown'd;"
He said, and first his brows with myrtle bound.
Then Helymus, by his example led,

And old Acestes, each adorn'd his head;
Thus young Ascanius, with a sprightly grace,
His temples ty'd, and all the Trojan race.

Eneas then advanc'd amidst the train,
By thousands follow'd through the flowery plain,
To great Anchises' tomb which, when he found,
He pour'd to Bacchus, on the hollow'd ground,
Two bowls of sparkling wine, of milk two more,
And two from offer'd bulls of purple gore.
With roses then the sepulchre he strow'd;
And thus his father's ghost bespoke aloud:
"Hail, O ye holy manes! hail again,
Paternal ashes, now review'd in vain!
The gods permitted not that you, with me,
Should reach the promis'd shores of Italy;
Or Tyber's flood, what flood soe'er it be."
Scarce had he finish'd, when, with speckled pride,
A serpent from the tomb began to glide;
His hugy bulk on seven high volumes roll'd;
Blue was his breadth of back, but streak'd with
scaly gold.

Thus, riding on his curls, he seem'd to pass
A rolling fire along, and singe the grass.
More various colours through his body run,
Than Iris, when her bow imbibes the Sun:
Betwixt the rising altars, and around,
The sacred monster shot along the ground;
With harmless play amidst the bowls he pass'd,
And, with his lolling tongue, assay'd the taste:
Thus fed with holy food, the wondrous guest
Within the hollow tomb retir'd to rest.

The pious prince, surpris'd at what he view'd,
The funeral honours with more zeal renew'd:
Doubtful if this the place's genius were,
Or guardian of his father's sepulchre.
Five sheep, according to the rites, he slew,
As many swine, and steers of sable hue;
Now generous wine he from the goblets pour'd,
And call'd his father's ghost, from Hell restor❜d.
The glad attendants in long order come,
Offering their gifts at great Anchises' tomb;
Some add more oxen; some divide the spoil;
Some place the chargers on the grassy soil;
Some blow the fires, and offer'd entrails broil.
Now came the day desir'd: the skies were
bright

With rosy lustre of the rising light;
The bordering people, rous'd by sounding fame
Of Trojan feasts, and great Acestes' name,
The crowded shore with acclamations fill,
Part to behold, and part to prove their skill.
And first the gifts in public view they place,
Green laurel wreaths, and palm (the victor's
Within the circle, arms and tripods lie, [grace):
Ingots of gold and silver heap'd on high,
And vests embroider'd of the Tyrian dye.
The trumpet's clangour then the feast proclaims,
And all prepare for their appointed games.
Four gallies first, with equal rowers bear,
Advancing, in the watery lists appear.
The speedy Dolphin, that outstrips the wind,
Bore Mnestheus, author of the Memmian kind:
Gyas the vast Chimæra's bulk commands,
Which rising like a towering city stands:
Three Trojans tug at every labouring oar;
Three banks in three degrees the sailors bore;
Beneath their sturdy strokes the billows roar.
Sergesthus, who began the Sergian race,
In the great Centaur took the leading place:
Cloanthus on the sea-green Scylla stood,
From whom Cluentius draws his Trojan blood.

Far in the sea, against the foaming shore, There stands a rock; the raging billows roar Above his head in storms; but, when 'tis clear, Uncurl their ridgy backs, and at his foot appear. In peace below the gentle waters run;

The cormorants above lie basking in the Sun,
On this the hero fix'd an oak in sight,
The mark to guide the mariners aright.

To bear with this, the seamen stretch their oars; Then round the rock they steer, and seek the former shores.

The lots decide their place: above the rest,
Each leader shining in his Tyrian vest:

The common crew, with wreaths of poplar boughs,
Their temples crown, and shade their sweaty brows.
Besmear'd with oil, their naked shoulders shine:
All take their seats, and wait the sounding sign.
They gripe their cars, and every panting breast
Is rais'd by turns with hope, by turns with fear de-
press'd.

The clangour of the trumpet gives the sign;
At once they start advancing in a line.
With shouts the sailors rend the starry skies;
Lash'd with their oars, the smoky billows rise;
Sparkles the briny main, and the vex'd ocean fries.
Exact in time, with equal strokes they row:
At once the brushing oars and brazen prow
Dash up the sandy waves, and ope the depths
Not fiery coursers, in a chariot race, [below.
Invade the field with half so swift a pace.
Not the fierce driver with more fury lends
The sounding lash; and, ere the stroke descends,
Low to the wheels his pliant body bends.
The partial crowd their hopes and fears divide,
And aid, with eager shouts, the favour'd side.
Cries, murmurs, clamours, with a mixing sound,
From woods to woods, from hills to hills rebound.
Amidst the loud applauses of the shore,
Gyas outstripp'd the rest, and sprung before;
Cloanthus, better mann'd, pursu'd him fast;
But his o'er-masted galley check'd his haste.
The Centaur, and the Dolphin brush the brine
With equal oars, advancing in a line:
And now the mighty Centaur seems to lead,
And now the speedy Dolphin gets a-head:
Now board to board the rival vessels row;
The billows lave the skies, and ocean groans below.
They reach'd the mark: proud Gyas and his train
In triumph rode the victors of the main :
But steering round, he charg'd his pilot stand
More close to shore, and skim along the sand.
Let others bear to sea. Menates heard,
But secret shelves too cautiously he fear'd :
And, fearing, sought the deep; and still aloof he
steer'd.

With louder cries the captain call'd again;
"Bear to the rocky shore, and shun the main."
He spoke, and, speaking at his stern, he saw
The bold Cloanthus near the shelvings draw:
Betwixt the mark and him the Scylla stood,
And, in a closer compass, plough'd the flood:
He pass'd the mark, and wheeling got before:
Gyas blasphem'd the gods, devoutly swore,
Cry'd out for anger, and his hair he tore.
Mindless of others' lives (so high was grown
His rising rage) and careless of his own,
The trembling dotard to the deck he drew,
And hoisted up, and over-board he threw.
This done be seiz'd the helm, his fellows cheer'd,
Turn'd short upon the shelves, and madly steer'd.
Hardly his head the plunging pilot rears,
Clogg'd with his clothes, and cumber'd with his

years:

Now dropping wet, he climbs the cliff with pain;
The crowd, that saw him fall, and float again,
Shout from the distant shore, and loudly laugh'd,
To see his heaving breast disgorge the briny
draught.

The following Centaur, and the Dolphin's crew,
Their vanish'd hopes of victory renew:
While Gyas lags, they kindle in the race,
To reach the mark: Sergesthus takes the place ·
Mnestheus pursues; and, while around they wind,
Comes up, not half his galley's length behind.
Then on the deck amidst his mates appear'd,
And thus their drooping courages he cheer'd: