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Medulla Poetarum Romanorum

Or, the Most Beautiful and Instructive Passages of the Roman Poets. Being a Collection, (Disposed under proper Heads,) Of such Descriptions, Allusions, Comparisons, Characters, and Sentiments, as may best serve to shew the Religion, Learning, Politicks, Arts, Customs, Opinions, Manners, and Circumstances of the Antients. With Translations of the same in English Verse. By Mr. Henry Baker

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Vision.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  

Vision.

See Ghost.

Lo! in a Dream, before my slumb'ring Eyes
The much afflicted Hector seem'd to stand,
Profuse of Tears: dragg'd with the Chariot's Wheels
As heretofore: besmear'd with bloody Dust:
And thro' his swelling Feet transfix'd with Thongs.
Ah me! how was he from that Hector chang'd,
Who once return'd triumphant in the Spoils
Of great Achilles: or who flung his Fire
Among the Grecian Vessels! foul his Beard:
His Hair all clung, and clotted with his Blood:
And in his Body all the Wounds receiv'd
Before his native Walls.—
Fetching a dismal Groan;—Ah! fly, he cry'd;
Fly, Goddess-born, and save Thee from these Flames:
The Enemy has gain'd our Walls; and Troy
Is tumbling from it's Height.—

Trap. Virg. Æn. Lib. II.


'Twas Night: and Sleep possess'd the weary World.
Th' Effigies of our Trojan Country-Gods,
Whom from amidst the Fire of ruin'd Troy
I rescu'd, in my Sleep appear'd to stand
Before my Eyes: discover'd by the Light,
Where the full Moon profusely pour'd her Beams
Thro' the inserted Windows.—
Nor was it common Sleep: for plain I saw
Their Looks, their Forms, and Fillets of their Hair.—

Id. Virg. Æn. Lib. III.


Æneas, in his lofty Ship, resolv'd
Upon his Voyage, and prepar'd to sail,
Securely slept.—To him the Form divine
Returning, just the same in Mein, and Look,
Appear'd in Dream:—

473

Resembling Mercury in ev'ry Part,
His Voice, Complexion, and his yellow Hair,
And well proportion'd beauteous Limbs of Youth.
Canst Thou in this Conjuncture, Goddess-born,
Indulge thy Sleep? Nor think what Dangers round
Inclose Thee, thoughtless Man?—

Id. Virg. Æn. Lib. IV.


— 'Twas Night;
When Prince Æneas, on the Bank reclin'd,
Beneath the open Canopy of Heaven,
And troubled in his Breast with Woes of War,
Late Rest indulg'd.—To him the local God,
Old Tyberinus, from his pleasant Stream,
Among the poplar Boughs, appear'd to rise:
Thin azure Linnen o'er his Shoulders flew:
And shady Reeds entwin'd his hoary Head.—

Id. Virg. Æn. Lib. VIII.


At length the weary Chieftain sunk to Rest,
And creeping Slumbers sooth'd his anxious Breast:
When, lo! in that short Moment of Repose,
His Julia's Shade, a dreadful Vision! rose:
Thro' gaping Earth her ghastly Head she rear'd,
And by the Light of livid Flames appear'd.
These Civil Wars, she cry'd, my Peace infest,
And drive me from the Mansions of the Blest:
Elysium's happy Fields no more I know,
Dragg'd to the guilty Stygian Shades below.
When Thou wert mine, what Laurels crown'd thy Head!
But Thou hast chang'd thy Fortune with thy Bed:
In an ill Hour thy second Choice was made,
To Slaughter Thou, like Crassus, art betray'd:
Death is the Dower Cornelia's Love affords,
Ruin still waits upon her potent Lords.
While yet my Ashes glow'd, she took my Place,
And came a Harlot to thy loose Embrace:
But let her, Partner of thy Warfare go,
Let her, by Land and Sea thy Labours know:

475

In all thy broken Sleeps I will be near,
In all thy Dreams sad Julia shall appear:
Your Loves shall find no Moment for Delight,
The Day shall all be Cæsar's, mine the Night.
Not the dull Stream where long Oblivions roll,
Could blot Thee out, my Husband, from my Soul.
The Powers beneath my Constancy approve,
And bid me follow wheresoe'er You rove.
Amidst the joyning Battles will I stand,
And still remind Thee of thy plighted Hand.
Nor think those sacred Ties no more remain:
The Sword of War divides the Knot in vain,
That very War shall make Thee mine again.
The Phantom spoke, and gliding from the Place,
Deluded her astonish'd Lord's Embrace.—

Rowe. Lucan. Lib. III.


 

Pompey.

Julia, Cæsar's Daughter, was the first Wife of Pompey: soon after her Death, he marry'd Cornelia the Widow of Crassus, who was slain in the War against the Parthians.

At last, in solemn Silence of the Night,
She rose before her slumb'ring Mother's Sight:
Her yellow Hair more bright than burnish'd Gold,
All foul with Dirt, and squalid to behold:
Pale are her beauteous Cheeks: her radiant Eyes
Are dim'd with Night, and all their Lustre dies.
Her ruddy Lips and snowy Limbs, the Soil
Of Stygian Shades involves, and sooty Clouds defile.
Scarce thro' the black Disguise the Parent knew
The dismal Shape, and star'd with doubtful View:
Art Thou, art Thou my Daughter?—Speak, declare:
Or am I thus deceiv'd by empty Air?—

Hughes. Claud. Rapt. Pros. III.


 

Proserpine.

Ceres.