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The Works of Virgil

Translated into English Blank Verse. With large Explanatory Notes, and Critical Observations. By Joseph Trapp

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BOOK the Fourth.
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BOOK the Fourth.


226

But with consuming Care the restless Queen
Already bleeding, nourishes a Wound
Deep in her Veins, and wastes with hidden Fire.
Much to her Thoughts the Heroe's brave Exploits

227

Recur, and much the Glories of his Race;
Fix'd in her Soul his Looks, and Words remain;
And lost Repose is banish'd from her Breast.
Now had returning Morn illum'd the World
With Phœbus' Lamp, and from the Pole dispell'd
The dewy Shades; when, sick with fond Desire,
Her Confident, her Sister, she bespeaks.
What Dreams, my dearest Anna, discompose
My Rest? What wond'rous Stranger at our Court
Is here arriv'd! how God-like he appears!
In Mien how graceful! and how brave in Arms!
For me, I think (nor groundless are Those Thoughts)
His Lineage is Divine. Unmanly Fear
Argues degen'rate Souls: What Fates, alas!
Have him pursu'd! What Battles did he tell!
Were not my Soul immoveably resolv'd
Never to link my self in Nuptial Bonds,
Since my first Love deluded me by Death;

228

Did I not sicken at the Sound of Wedlock:
To This one Frailty I perhaps could yield.
My Sister (for to Thee I will disclose
My inmost Thoughts) since poor Sichæus fell,
And with his Blood, spilt by a Brother's Hand,
Sprinkled our Houshold-Gods; This only Man
Has warp'd my Inclinations, and unfix'd
My stagg'ring Resolution: I perceive
The Signs and Tokens of my former Flame.
But may the yawning Earth devour me quick;
Or Jove with Thunder strike me to the Shades,
Pale Shades of Erebus, and Night profound;
E'er, Modesty, I break Thy sacred Laws,
Or violate Thy Rights: He, who at first
Made me his own, bore all my Love away:
Let him possess it to himself entire,
And keep it in his Grave. Thus having said,
She fill'd her Bosom with o'erflowing Tears.
Anna replies: O dearer than This Light
To me; will You alone waste all your Youth

229

In pining Grief? Nor know the dear Delights
Of Children, and the sweet Rewards of Love?
Think you That Care disturbs departed Ghosts,
Or bury'd Ashes? What, tho' heretofore
No soft Addresses your sad Soul could move,
Not here in Libya, nor before, at Tyre?
What tho' Iärbas was with Scorn repuls'd,
And other Leaders, born on Africk Coasts
Fertil in Triumphs? Ev'n a pleasing Love
Will you resist? Nor think what Countries round
Inclose you? Here Getulian Towns, a Race
Invincible in War; the fierce, untam'd
Numidians, and th'inhospitable Sands
Of Syrtis: There, a Region wild, and waste
By parching Heat; then raging far, and wide,
Th'unciviliz'd Barcæans: Not to name
The War from Tyre impending, and the Threats
Of our fierce Brother?
Sure 'twas indulgent Heav'n's peculiar Care,
And Juno's Providence, that hither brought
The Trojan Fleet. How fam'd a City This
Will you behold! How flourishing a Realm
By such Connubials! By the Trojan Arms
United to our own, to what a Height
Of Greatness will the Punic Glory rise!
Only do you with Pray'r propitiate Heav'n,
Indulge your Hospitality, and frame

230

New Reasons for their Stay; tempestuous Winds,
Orion's stormy Influence on the Main,
Their shatter'd Vessels, and th'inclement Sky.
By such Advice she fan'd the Fire of Love
Within her Sister's Soul; with Hope confirm'd
Her wav'ring Mind, and broke thro' all Reserves.
First to the Temple they repair, and seek
Heav'n's Favour at the Altars: On them laid
Selected Victims, with accustom'd Rites,
To Ceres Law-giver, and Phœbus bleed,
And Father Bacchus; but above the rest
To Juno, who presides o'er Nuptial Beds.
The beauteous Queen her self a Goblet holds
In her Right hand, and for Libation pours
The Wine betwixt the snow-white Heifer's Horns.
Or round the smoking Altars slowly walks
Before the Statues of the Gods; with Gifts
Renews the Day; and on the open'd Breasts

231

Of Victims eagerly intent, consults
Their breathing Entrails. Wretched Ignorance
Of Augurs! What alas! do Vows, or Shrines
Avail, to heal her Frenzy? A soft Flame
Feeds on her Vitals; and a living Wound
Silent, unseen, bleeds inward in her Breast.
Th'unhappy Dido burns, and restless roves
O'er all the City: Like a wounded Deer,
Whom heedless of her Fate, in Cretian Woods,
The Swain at distance with his Shafts pursu'd;
And in her Body left the missive Steel,
Unknowing: She thro' the Dictæan Groves,
And Thickets flying strays; the mortal Dart
Sticks in her Side. Sometimes the Trojan Prince
She takes alone, and leads him round the Walls;
With Ostentation shews him, as they walk,
Her rising City, and Sidonian Wealth;
Begins to speak, and in the Middle stops

232

Her fault'ring Tongue. At Ev'ning she renews
Her Banquets; fondly begs again to hear
The Trojan Wars: again, while He relates,
She listens fix'd, and hangs upon the Sound.
Then after all are to their Rest retir'd:
When in her turn the Moon obscure withdraws
Her Light, and setting Stars persuade to Sleep:
Lonely she pines within the empty Court,
Lies on the Couch which just before she left;
Him absent, absent still she hears, and sees.
Sometimes, his Father's Image all her Soul
Possessing, young Ascanius on her Lap
She long detains; if possible, to cheat
With That Amusement her unbounded Love.
Th'unfinish'd Tow'rs no longer rise; The Youth,
Undisciplin'd in Arms, no longer form
Ports, and strong Fortresses of War; The Works
Neglected stand: The Threat'nings of the Walls,
And tall Machines no more invade the Sky;
But, sticking in mid way, come short of Heav'n.

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Whom when the Wife of Jove perceives involv'd
In such a Pest of Passion, nor by Fame
It self restrain'd; to Venus Thus she speaks.
Prodigious Trophies you indeed have gain'd,
You, and your Boy; vast Praise, a deathless Name:
If by the Fraud of Two Celestial Pow'rs
One Woman be subdu'd. And well I know
Our rising Carthage you suspect, and fear.
But where at last will This Contention end?
Why rather make we not eternal Peace,
And binding Nuptials? What your Soul desir'd
You have effected: Dido fondly burns;
And Love's soft Frenzy revels in her Veins.
Then let This People by our joint Command
Be rul'd; Let Dido serve a Phrygian Lord,

234

And give in Dow'r her Tyrians to your Hand.
To whom Thus Venus (for she well perceiv'd
The Fraud of Juno, lab'ring to transfer
Th'Italian Kingdom to the Libyan Coasts)
Reply'd. Who ill-advis'd would e'er reject
Such fair Demands, and rather chuse with you
Still to contend? Did Fortune but approve,
And second your Design: But I, unskill'd
In Fate's Decrees, am doubtful whether Jove
Permit the Colonies of Tyre, and Troy
To join their Kingdoms, and unite in One.
You are his Consort, and have Privilege
To sound his Thoughts; I follow, as you lead.
To whom Imperial Juno Thus reply'd.
Mine be That Care: At present (mark my Words)
How what th'immediate Stress of Things requires
May be effected, I'll in brief unfold.
Soon as to-morrow's Sun his rising Beams
Extends; Æneas, and th'unhappy Queen
Design to hunt among the Libyan Woods.
On These, when all are on their Sport intent,
And with their Toils the Thickets round inclose,
I from above will pour a Storm with Hail
Commix'd, and roll loud Thunder o'er the Sky.
Th'Attendants shall be scatter'd, and conceal'd
In Darkness: Dido, and the Trojan Chief

235

To the same Grot shall come; I'll there attend,
And, if your Thoughts approve it, join her firm
In Nuptial Bonds, and consecrate her His:
Here Hymen shall be present. Not averse
From this Proposal, Venus gives Consent,
Sees thro' her Project, and in secret smiles.
Mean-while Aurora, rising, leaves the Sea:
Forth from the Gates the chosen Youth advance,
With Nets, and Toils, broad-pointed hunting Spears,
Massylian Horsemen, and quick-scented Hounds.
Before her Gates the Punic Nobles wait
The Queen, delaying in her rich Alcove;
Her Steed, adorn'd with Purple, and with Gold,
Stands pawing, fierce, and champs the foaming Bit.
At length, attended with a num'rous Guard,
She comes Majestick: Her Sidonian Vest
Border'd with crimson Fringe; her Quiver, Gold;
Her Tresses in a golden Knot confin'd;
A golden Buckle clasps her purple Robe.
Join'd to the rest the Trojan Youth advance,
And glad Iülus: But, above them all,

236

Beauteous, and Eminent, Æneas comes;
And, adding his Retinue, fills the Train.
As when Apollo leaves his Winter-Seat
Lycia, and Xanthus' Stream; and in it's Turn
Visits his Native Delos, to restore
The Festivals; About his Altars croud,
With mingled Noise, the Cretians, Dryopes,
And painted Agathyrsi: He on Top
Of Cynthus walks, and crowns his flowing Hair
With a soft Wreath of Greens, forms it with Art,
And winds it up in Gold; His sounding Shafts
Hang at his Shoulders. No less graceful mov'd
Æneas; In his Face such Beauty shone.
When to the Hills, and pathless Haunts of Beasts
They come; Driv'n downwards from the Tops of Rocks
The wild Goats run: In other parts the Deer
Scour o'er the spacious Champain, flying join
Their Troops in Clouds of Dust, and leave the Hills.
But young Ascanius, thro' the winding Vales,
Rejoices in his mettled Steed; now These,
Now Those out-rides: among th'ignoble Herd
Of Beasts, desires to see a foaming Boar,
Or tawny Lion from the Hills descend.
Mean-while the mustring Clouds with grumbling Sound
Disturb the Sky: A Storm with mingled Hail

237

Ensues; The Tyrians, and the Trojan Youth,
And Venus' Grandson, flying o'er the Fields
Seek various Shelter: Down the Mountains rush
The Torrents. Dido, and the Trojan Chief
To the same Grot together come: And first
Earth, and contracting Juno gave the Sign;
Flashes of ruddy Light'ning glar'd; The Sky
Was conscious of th'Alliance; And the Nymphs
Shriek'd on the Mountain's Top. That Day was first
The Cause of Death, and Woes: For Dido now
Neither by Decency, nor Fame is mov'd;
Nor longer studies to conceal her Love,
But skreens the Guilt with Wedlock's specious Name.
Forthwith loud Fame thro' Libyan Cities goes,
Fame, a pernicious Pest, than whom more swift

238

Is none; She flying grows, and gathers Strength
By Motion: Small at first thro' Fear; in time
She rears herself in Air, walks on the Ground
And hides her tow'ring Head among the Clouds.
Her, the last Sister to Enceladus,
And Cæus, as 'tis said, the Parent Earth,
Provok'd by Anger of the Gods, brought forth,
Swift in her Feet, and never-weary'd Wings.
A Monster hideous, vast! As many Plumes
As in her Body stick, so many Eyes
For ever waking (wond'rous to relate!)
There grow beneath; as many babbling Tongues;
As many list'ning Ears. By Night she flies,
Noisy, thro' Shades obscure, 'twixt Earth and Heav'n;
Nor are her Eyes by pleasing Slumber clos'd.
Watchful, and spying round, by Day, she sits
On some high Palace-Top, or lofty Tow'r,
And mighty Towns alarms; no less intent
On spreading Falshood, than reporting Truth.

239

She then with various Rumour fills the Croud,
Pleas'd with her Task, and mingles Truth with Lyes.
Relates that one Æneas, sprung from Troy,
Was come; To whom fair Dido could descend
To wed herself: Now all the Winter's Length
They indulge between them in luxurious Love,
Regardless of their Kingdoms, and enslav'd
By brutal Appetite. With Talk like This
The shameless Goddess fills the Mouths of Men.
To King Iärbas strait she bends her Course,
Inflames his Soul, and aggravates his Rage.
He, born of Ammon, and a ravish'd Nymph
Of Garamantic Race, to mighty Jove
An hundred spacious Temples, in his Realms
Of wide Extent, an hundred Altars built;
And consecrated to the Gods the Hearths
Of everlasting Fire; the Ground with Blood
Of slaughter'd Victims smoking; and the Doors
With various-colour'd flow'ry Wreaths adorn'd.
He, wild with Rage, and at the stabbing News
Incens'd, among the Statues of the Gods,
Before the Altars, with uplifted Hands,
To Jove Thus supplicant his Suit address'd.
Almighty Jove, to whom the Moorish Race,
Feasting on broider'd Beds, pour richest Wine;
Seest thou These Things? Or groundless are our Fears

240

Of Thunder? Do thy Light'nings from the Clouds
Scare us in vain, and idle Murmurs roll?
A Woman here, who, wand'ring in our Coasts,
A little City built on purchas'd Ground,
To whom on our Conditions we allow'd
A Tract of Tillage-Land, has scorn'd my Love,
And Lord Æneas to her Throne receiv'd.
And now That other Paris, with his soft
Half-female Train, his Lydian Bonnet bound
Beneath his Chin, his Hair perfum'd with Oils,
Enjoys the Prize; while we with Gifts supply
Your Temples, and maintain an empty Name.
Him, as he thus before his Altars pray'd,
Th'Almighty heard; and turn'd his awful Eyes
To Carthage-Turrets, and the princely Pair

241

Of Lovers, heedless of their better Fame.
Then Mercury he Thus instructs: Dispatch,
My Son, invite the Winds, on Pinions glide;
And to the Trojan Chief, who loiters now
At Carthage, and forgets the Realms by Fate
Allotted to him, These my Words convey,
And wing my Message thro' the fleeting Air.
Tell him, his beauteous Mother did not promise
A Son like Him; whom not for This she twice
Rescu'd from Grecian Jav'lins: But a Prince,
Who Italy should rule, a Nation big
With Empires, fierce, and terrible in War;
Should by his Deeds assert th'illustrious Blood
Of Teucer, and to all the World give Laws.
If by the Fame of so sublime a Fate
He is not fir'd; and will no Toil endure
For his own Glory: Does the Father's Love
Envy Ascanius Rome's Imperial Tow'rs?
What does he he purpose? with what Prospect stay
Among That hostile People? nor regard
The rich Lavinian Fields, and future Race
Destin'd to rule Ausonia? Bid him sail;
This is the Sum; be This my dread Command.
He said; The Son, preparing to obey
His mighty Father's Will, first to his Feet
Fast binds the golden Sandals, which on Wings

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Bear him aloft, as o'er the Seas, or Earth
He flies, and round him whirls the rapid Air.
Then takes his Wand: With This pale Ghosts he calls
From Hell; sends others to Those dreary Realms;
Gives, or breaks Sleep; and Eyes unseals from Death.
Equipp'd with This, he drives the Winds, and cuts
Th'opposing turbid Mists; and now discerns,
In his swift Flight, the Top, and lofty Sides
Of rocky Atlas, who sustains the Sky.
Atlas, whose piny Head with low'ring Clouds
Is wrap'd, and beaten with the Winds, and Rain:
Snow hides his Shoulders; from his hoary Chin
Streams roll, and stiffen'd hangs his icy Beard.
Here first Cyllenius, pois'd on even Wings,
Alighted; Thence with all his Body's force,
Flings himself headlong from the steepy Height
Down to the Ocean: Like the Bird that flies,
Low, skimming o'er the Surface, near the Sea,

243

Around the Shores, around the fishy Rocks:
So Mercury in Air, 'twixt Earth and Heav'n,
Shooting from his maternal Grandsire, flew,
And cut the Winds, and Libya's sandy Shore.
Soon as he There with wingy Feet arriv'd;
He saw Æneas busily empoly'd
In buildings Forts, and Streets: A Sword he wore
Studded with Jasper; and a Gown, that flam'd
With Tyrian Crimson, from his Shoulders hung;
A Present which the Royal Dido gave,
And wrought the vary'd Silk with Threads of Gold.
Strait he invades him: Thou art then engag'd
To build, and beautify fair Carthage-Tow'rs,
Uxorious Man! ah! thoughtless! unconcern'd
For thy own Kingdom, and thy own Affairs.
The Sov'reign of the Sky, whose awful Nod
Shakes Earth, and Heav'n, has sent me from above,
From bright Olympus: His Commands I bring,
And waft his Message thro' the fleeting Air.
What dost thou purpose? with what Prospect waste

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Thy Time, unactive, on These Libyan Coasts?
If by the Fame of so sublime a Fate
Thou art not mov'd, and wilt no Toil endure
For thy own Glory; yet at least regard
Thy Heir Ascanius, and his rising Hopes;
To whom th'Italian and the Roman Realms
Are due from Fate. When Hermes Thus had spoke;
In his mid Speech abrupt he far withdrew
From mortal Sight, and vanish'd into Air.
Confounded, and amaz'd, Æneas stood:
Up rose his Hair erect; and to his Mouth
His Speech with Horrour cleav'd. He longs to go,
And leave That pleasing Kingdom, Thunder-struck
At such a Message, and the God's Command.
What should he do? With what soft Words attempt
To sooth th'impatient Queen? How introduce
The first Discourse? His wav'ring Mind divides
A thousand ways; now This, now That resolves,
And turns on ev'ry Side it's shifting Thoughts.
At length This Resolution he approves:
Mnestheus he calls, Sergestus, and the brave
Cloanthus; bids them privately prepare
The Fleet, and draw their Forces to the Shore;
Provide all fit Materials; and conceal
The Cause of such an unexpected Change:
Tells them, that while th'indulgent Queen remain'd
Unapprehensive, ignorant, nor fear'd
That Loves so well confirm'd could be dissolv'd;
He would explore th'Approaches to her Soul,

245

Watch all the softest Seasons of Address,
And think on proper Measures. These Commands
With joyful Haste they eagerly obey,
And execute his Orders. But the Queen
(Who can delude a Lover?) Soon perceiv'd
The Fraud, and first his future Motions saw,
Fearing ev'n Safety: The same impious Pest,
Fame, gave her the Alarm; the Fleet was rigg'd,
And all prepar'd to sail. Distracted, wild,
She rages; and, incens'd, o'er all the Town
Roves, like a Bacchanal; when at the Name
Of Bacchus, his triennial Orgies swell
Her Breast with Madness; and Cythæron's Top
Invites her, echoing with nocturnal Sounds.
At length Æneas Thus she first bespeaks.
And couldst thou hope, perfidious, to conceal
So black a Crime? and silent leave my Coasts?
Cannot my Love, nor thy once plighted Faith,
Nor Dido's cruel, and untimely Death
(For Death inevitable must ensue)
Detain thee? Ev'n to Winter's scowling Sky
Your Navy you expose, and haste to stem
The Deep amidst tempestuous Northern Winds,
Ah cruel! What, if Kingdoms not thy own
Thou didst not seek, and still old Troy remain'd;
Should Troy itself be sought o'er stormy Seas?
Me dost thou fly? By These distilling Tears,
By thy Right hand (since Nought else I've reserv'd
To wretched Me) by our connubial Rites,
And Hymenéal Loves but yet begun;
If ever I have aught of thee deserv'd,

246

Or any thing of mine was e'er to thee
Delightful; pity my declining State;
And oh! if yet there's any room for Pray'r,
Be yet intreated, yet thy Purpose change.
The Libyan Nations, for Thy sake incens'd,
And fierce Numidian Tyrants are my Foes;
My Tyrians too offended: For Thy sake
My Honour is extinguish'd, lost; and That
By which alone I soar'd above the World,
My once unsully'd Fame: To whom by thee
Dying am I abandon'd, cruel Guest?
Since That's the only Name which now remains,
Instead of Husband. Wherefore should I stay,
'Till my unnat'ral Brother lay my Walls
In Ruin? Or Iärbas too his Realms
Transport me Captive? Had I but from Thee
Some Pledge before thy Flight; did any young
Little Æneas play about my Hall,
Expressing thee in Looks; I should not seem
Entirely lost, forsaken, and betray'd.

247

She said; He, aw'd by Jove's severe Command,
Fix'd held his Eyes, and smother'd in his Breast
The struggling Pain: At length in brief reply'd.
Your Favours, great, and numerous, conferr'd
On me, fair Queen, you justly may recount,
Nor shall I once deny; nor e'er forget
Elisa, while I'm mindful of myself;
While Life inspires this Frame. In brief I'll speak,
Full to the Cause: 'Twas never my Design
(Misrepresent me not) to leave your Coasts
With secresy; nor did I ever think
Of Nuptial Rites, or such a Contract meant.
Me did the Fates permit to lead my Life

248

By my own Conduct, and compose my Cares
To my own Wish; I had regarded first
My Native Walls, and Ilium's dear Remains:
Priam's high Palace had again been rear'd,
And for my vanquish'd Country I had built
New-rising Troy. But now Apollo's Shrines,
Now Lycian Oracles direct my Course
To Italy, our lov'd, our promis'd Realm.
If You, a Tyrian Princess, are detain'd
By Carthage-Tow'rs, and please yourself to see
A Libyan City rising; who can grudge
The Trojans Liberty to fix their Seat
In Latium? Let Us too have Leave to seek
A foreign Land. As oft as Night obscures

249

The World with dewy Shades, and fiery Stars
Rise in the Sky; my Father's troubled Ghost
Admonishes, and frights me in my Dreams.
My dear Ascanius chides me for my Stay;
Whom of th'Hesperian Kingdom I defraud,
And fatal destin'd Fields. Nay just ev'n now
Th'Ambassadour of Heav'n from mighty Jove
Dispatch'd, (I call to witness both Those Pow'rs)
Brought me his Mandates thro' the fleeting Air:
I saw the God in open Light of Day
Entring your Walls; and in These Ears receiv'd
His Voice. Disquiet not with vain Complaints
Yourself, and me: 'Tis with Regret I seek
Th'Italian Coasts.
Thus while he spoke, she silently intent
Ey'd him averse; and roll'd her glaring Balls
Around; from head to foot survey'd him o'er,
Speechless awhile; and Thus in Rage reply'd.
Nor art thou of a Goddess-Mother born;
Nor is thy Birth from Dardanus deriv'd,
Perfidious Wretch: But Caucasus, with Rocks
Horrid, disclos'd thee from it's flinty Sides,
And fierce Hyrcanian Tygers gave thee suck.

250

For why should I dissemble? Or what worse
Can I expect? Did he once give a Groan
To see me weep? Did he once bend his Eyes?
Or shed one Tear in Pity to my Love?
To which of his Barbarities shall I give
The Pref'rence? Now no more the Queen of Gods,
Nor Jove beholds these things with equal Eyes.
True Faith is no where to be found: Him toss'd
On Shore, of all things indigent, I here
Receiv'd; and made him Partner of my Throne,
(Fool that I was!) repair'd his shatter'd Fleet,

251

And hospitably sav'd his Friends from Death.
Furies distract me! Now Apollo's Shrines,
Now Lycian Oracles have warn'd him hence:
Th'Ambassadour of Heav'n, from mighty Jove
Dispatch'd, brings dreadful Mandates thro' the Air.
Belike, the Gods are wond'rously concern'd
For his Affairs; That Care disturbs their Rest.
I nor detain thee, nor refel thy Words.
Away for Latium, by the Winds; go, seek
Thy Kingdom o'er the Waves: For me, I hope,
If the just Gods have Pow'r, thou wilt receive
Thy due Reward among the Rocks; and there
Call oft on Dido: Wrapt in dusky Flames,
I'll follow thee; and, soon as icy Death
Has freed my Soul from Flesh, in ev'ry place
My Ghost shall haunt thee: Villain, thou shalt feel
My Vengeance; I shall hear it, and That Fame
Shall reach my Ears among the Shades below.
This said, she, in the Middle of her Speech,
Breaks off abrupt, and sick'ning flies the Light;

252

With Loathing turns her Eyes from his; and leaves
Him wav'ring, and a thousand things to say
Irresolute, in Fear: Her Maids support
Her Body, as she sinks into their Arms,
And lay her fainting on the Royal Bed.
But good Æneas, tho' he much desir'd
By comforting to ease her Grief, and sooth
The Tempest of her Passions; groaning deep,
And stagger'd in his Mind by mighty Love:
Yet executes the dread Commands of Heav'n,
And to his Fleet repairs. Then all at once
The Trojans urge their Toil, and from the Dock
Draw their tall Ships: The new-pitch'd Gallies float;
Unfashion'd Timber from the Woods they bring,
And leafy Oars, thro' Eagerness and Haste;
Studious of Flight.
Them crouding thro' the Streets you might behold,

253

And rushing from the Town. As when the Ants
Mindful of Winter, waste a heap of Corn,
To store their Granaries. Along the Fields
Goes a black Troop; and in a narrow Path
Their Booty they convey: With all their Strength
Some on their Shoulders push the cumbrous Grains;
Others bring up the Rear, and chide Delay:
The Path all smokes, and hot the Work proceeds.
Then, Dido, what were then thy Thoughts? What Groans,
At such a Prospect, heav'd thy throbbing Breast?
When from a Turret's Top thou didst behold
The Hurry of the Shore, and all the Sea
Confus'd with mingled Noises? Cruel Love!
To what Extremes does not thy Tyrant Pow'r
Urge mortal Breasts? Again dissolv'd in Tears,
Spight of her Rage, and Pride, again she tries
Suppliant Intreaties, and submissive bows
Her haughty Soul to Love: That, e'er she dy'd,
No Measures unattempted might be left.
My dearest Anna, from all Parts, thou seest,

254

Rushing they croud the Shore; their Sails unfurl'd
Invite the Breezes, and with joyful Haste
The shouting Mariners have crown'd their Ships.
Could I have e'er expected such a Blow
Of cruel Fate as This; my Soul could then
Have born it: Yet This only Favour grant
Thy wretched Sister; for That faithless Man
To Thee alone uncommon Rev'rence paid,
Trusted his Secrets with Thee; Thou alone
Didst know the soft Approaches to his Soul,
And all the proper Seasons of Address.
Go, Sister; and This Message suppliant bear
To the proud Foe. I never did conspire,
At Aulis, with the Greeks, to overturn
The Trojan State, nor sent a Fleet to Troy;
Nor e'er disturb'd his bury'd Father's Dust.
Why does he stop his unrelenting Ears
To my Intreaties? Whither does he fly
So hasty? This last Favour let him grant
To his unhappy Lover; let him wait
An easy Voyage, and permitting Winds.
I now no more petition him to yield
The Rights of Nuptials, which he has betray'd;

255

Nor urge him to relinquish his gay Hopes
Of Italy, and Empire: All I beg,
Is but a soothing Interval, some Rest,
And Respite to my Passion; 'till my Fate
Shall to Misfortune reconcile my Soul,
Subdu'd by Grief, and teach me how to mourn.
Pity thy Sister; This last Boon I crave:
This let him grant; I'll then dismiss him free,
And crown his Satisfaction with my Death.
Thus she her Suit express'd; Such mournful Pray'rs
Her weeping Sister carries, and repeats:
He by no Tears is mov'd; untractable,
And deaf to all Intreaties: Fate forbids;
And Jove, o'er-ruling, stops his pitying Ears.
As when rough Alpine Winds, with struggling Gusts,

256

This way, and that, contend t' o'erturn an Oak
Stubborn with aged Timber; Roaring loud
The Branches bend; The stiff Trunk bows; The Leaves
Thick falling strew the Ground: It self fast clings
Fix'd in the Rocks; and high as it uprears
It's tow'ring Head in Air, so deep it's Root
Shoots downwards to the Centre. With such Force,
And ceaseless Noise, the Hero on all sides
Is batter'd; and within his manly Breast
Confines the Pain he feels: His Mind persists
Unmov'd; and Tears roll down his Cheeks in vain.

257

Then, terrify'd with Fate, th'unhappy Queen
Implores to die; and sickens to behold
The bright Convex of Heav'n. To make her urge
Her Enterprize, and leave the hated Light;
When pious Gifts she on the Altars laid
Smoking with Incense (horrid to relate!)
She saw the Liquors sacred to the Gods
Turn black; and as the holy Wine was pour'd,

258

It chang'd to putrid Blood. This dire Portent
From All, ev'n from her Sister, she conceals.
Besides, within her Court a Marble Dome
There stood, devoted to her former Lord;
Which with uncommon Honour she rever'd,
With snowy Fleeces, and fresh Garlands crown'd.
Hence Groans are heard, and her dead Husband's Voice
Seeming to call aloud; when gloomy Night
Obscures the World: And, on her Palace-Top,
The lonely Owl with oft-repeated Scream
Complains, and spins into a dismal Length
Her baleful Shrieks. Nor less the Warnings, giv'n
By ancient Augurs, fright her restless Mind
With terrible Predictions. In her Dreams
Cruel Æneas persecutes her Soul
To Madness. Still abandon'd to her self,
Cheerless, without a Guide, she seems to go
A long, a tédious Journey, and to seek
Her Tyrian Subjects on deserted Coasts.
So raving Pentheus Troops of Furies sees,
Two Suns, and double Thebes: So mad with Guilt

259

Orestes, agitated on the Stage,
Flies from his Mother's Ghost, with Torches arm'd,
And black infernal Snakes; revengeful Fiends
Sit in the Doors, and intercept his Flight.
Therefore when all the Furies in her Breast
She had conceiv'd, o'ercome with wild Despair,
And resolute to die; the Time, and Means
She with her self contrives: and Thus accosts
Her mourning Sister; (her Design conceals,
And smooths her Visage with dissembled Hope.)
Rejoice with me, my Sister; I have found
A sure Expedient, which will either bring
My Lover back, or free me from my Love.
Near Ocean's Limits, and the setting Sun,
On Æthiopia's Bounds, there is a Place,
Where mighty Atlas on his Shoulders turns

260

The rolling Axis studded o'er with Stars.
Here a Massylian Priestess lives; who kept
The Temple of th'Hesperides, with Food
Supply'd the Guardian Dragon, in his Meals
Honey infus'd, and drowsy Poppy's Juice,
And in the Tree preserv'd the sacred Boughs.
She undertakes with Charms to disengage
Whome'er she pleases, others to involve
In restless Cares; makes rapid Streams stand still,
And backwards turns the Stars: From Hell she calls
Nocturnal Ghosts; The Ground, you'll see, will groan,
Beneath her Feet, and Oaks from Hills descend.
Be all the Gods my Witnesses, and Thou,

261

My dearest Sister, with Regret I fly
For Aid to Magick Arts. Do thou erect
A Pile with secresy in th'inner Court,
Beneath the Cope of Heav'n; and on it place
The Trojan Arms, which in the Chamber fix'd
That Traytor left, his Cloaths, the genial Bed
On which I was undone: T'abolish all
The Villain's Relicks, is our form'd Design;
And such Direction the sage Priestess gives.
This said, she silent stood, and o'er her Face
A dying Paleness spread: Yet Anna's Thoughts
Never suspected that her Sister meant
Her Fun'ral, on pretext of sacred Rites;
Could not conceive so frantick a Despair,
And fear'd no worse than when Sichæus dy'd;
Therefore obeys her Orders.
But in th'interiour Court, and open Air,
A lofty Pile with Pitch-Trees and cleft Oak
Is built: The Queen with Garlands hangs it round,
And crowns it with a fun'ral Wreath: Above,
The Hero's Raiment, and the Sword he left,
And his Effigy on the Bed she lays,
Not ign'rant of the future. Altars stand
Around; And, with her Tresses scatter'd loose,
The Priestess thunders o'er three hundred Gods,
Erebus, Chaos, three-shap'd Hecate,

262

Virgin Diana's triple Form. The Place
With fancy'd Waters of Avernus' Fount
She sprinkles. Herbs are brought by Moon-light mow'd
With brazen Scythes, big, swol'n with milky Juice
Of noxious Poison; and the fleshy Knot
Torn from the Forehead of a new-foal'd Colt,
To rob the Mother's Love.
Her self with one Foot bare, and Robes unbound,
Before the Altars, with a season'd Cake,
And pious Hands, resolv'd on Death, invokes
To witness all the Gods, and ev'ry Star
Conscious of Fate, and whate'er Pow'r regards
And vindicates the Cause of injur'd Love.
'Twas Night; and weary Mortals o'er the World,
Lay with sweet Sleep refresh'd: The ruffled Woods,

263

And roaring Seas no more are heard; The Stars
Roll sliding in the Middle of their Course.
The Fields all hush'd; The Beasts, and painted Birds,
Which haunt the liquid Ponds, and thorny Brakes,
In silent Night, reliev'd with soft Repose,
Forget their Cares, and lose the Toils of Day.

264

Not so the wretched Dido; No sweet Sleep
Lulls her a moment; In her Eyes, or Soul,
Not for a moment she receives the Night:
Her Pangs redouble; Love with boiling Foam
Rages afresh, and with a various Tide
Of warring Passions fluctuates in her Breast.
Such Thoughts as These she with her self revolves.

265

What shall I do? Derided shall I try
Again my former Lovers? And with Pray'rs
Suppliant sollicite the Numidian Lords,
Whose proffer'd Vows so oft I have disdain'd?
Or shall I go, attend the Trojan Fleet,
And be obedient to their worst Commands?

266

Because I have assisted them, and find
My Favours with such Gratitude repay'd?
Or grant I would; Who of That haughty Crew
Would suffer me, or in their stately Ships
Receive me scorn'd? Not yet, alas! convinc'd,
Poor, undone Wretch, not yet dost thou perceive
Perjur'd Laomedon's perfidious Race?
What? shall I then accompany, alone,
The shouting Mariners? Or round inclos'd
With all my Tyrians? Those whom scarce I drew
From Sidon, shall I drag to Sea again,
And bid them spread their Canvass to the Winds?
No; Die, as thou deserv'st: and with the Steel
Cure all thy Pains. Thou, Sister, by my Tears
O'ercome, to sooth my frantick Love, didst first
Expose me to the Foe; and load my Soul
With all This Anguish. Could I not have liv'd

267

Free, like the Savages, without a Crime,
Free from the Nuptial Bed? and ne'er have known
Such Plagues as These are? Broken is the Faith
I vow'd to dead Sichæus. Such Complaints
She burst, with Sobbing, from her tortur'd Breast.
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 Mien, and Look,
Appear'd in Dream, and Thus again advis'd:
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? Nor dost thou hear
The Zephyrs breathe propitious on the Main?
She, resolute on Death, revolves her Plots,
And Mischiefs dire; and with a various Tide
Of warring Passions fluctuates in her Breast.
Will you not fly with eager Haste, while yet
'Tis in your Pow'r to fly? You strait will see
With Ships the Ocean crouded, hostile Brands

268

Glare on the Billows; and the Shore in Flames,
In Hurry, and Confusion; if the Morn
O'ertake you lingring on the Tyrian Coasts.
Rise, break Delay: A Woman is a Thing
Still various, and uncertain. Thus he spoke,
And mingled with the dusky Shades of Night.
Æneas, at the sudden Vision struck
With Horrour and Surprize, springs from the Bed,
And rouses up his Mates: Wake, wake, my Friends,
Sit to your Oars, with haste unfurl your Sails.
The God again has urg'd us, sent from Heav'n,
To speed our Flight, and cut the twisted Cords.
Thee, Holy Pow'r, whoe'er Thou art, with Joy
We follow; and again thy dread Commands
Obey: Be Thou assistant at our Need,
And guide the Stars propitious in the Sky.
He said; and from the Scabbard swiftly draws
His flashing Sword, and with the Steel unsheath'd
Divides the Cables: With like Ardour fir'd
All haste; They rush, they leave the Land; With Ships

269

The Sea is cover'd o'er: With all their Strength
They dash the Foam, and sweep the briny Waves.
Aurora, from Tithonus' saffron Bed
Now rising, sprinkled-o'er the World with Light;
Soon as the Queen perceiv'd the dawning Day,
And from a Tow'r beheld the Navy move
With even Sails, the empty Ports, and Shores
Abandon'd: With repeated Blows she beats
Her beauteous Breast, and rends her yellow Hair:
Shall he then go? The Fugitive? O Jove!
She cry'd, and make my Kingdoms thus his Sport?
Will they not rush to Arms? From all the Town
Pursue? While others from the Docks swift plunge
My Ships into the Sea? Go, fly; bring Fire;

270

Quick, hoise your Sails, and strongly ply your Oars.
What was't I said? Where am I? What Distraction
Has turn'd my Brain? Unhappy Dido! Now
Thy cruel Fate stabs home. Then was the Time
To act, when you resign'd your Sceptre. This,
This is his Faith, and Honour, who, they say,
Carries about his wand'ring Country-Gods,
Where'er he goes; and on his Shoulders bore
His aged Father. Could I not have torn
His mangled Limbs? and strew'd them on the Sea?
Have murder'd his Associates? stabb'd his Son?
And serv'd him up at Table to the Sire?
But grant that doubtful is th'Event of War;
Whom should I fear, when I resolv'd to die?
I should have scatter'd Firebrands thro' his Fleet,
His Hatches fill'd with Flames, extirpated
The Son, the Father, all the cursed Race;
And fall'n my self upon the slaughter'd Heaps.

271

Thou Sun, who in thy fiery Course survey'st
The Works of Men; Thou Juno, of These Cares
Conscious Interpreter; Thou Hecate,
Whose Name is howl'd at Midnight thro' the Streets;
You, Ye avenging Furies, and Ye Gods
Of dying, lost Elisa: To my Words
Attend; inflict on Crimes the Vengeance due,
And hear my Pray'rs. If Fate's unmov'd Decree,
And mighty Jove's resistless Will, ordain
That This perfidious Traitor must arrive
Safe in the Port, and reach the destin'd Land;
Yet, plagu'd with War by a bold Nation rais'd,
Banish'd his Coasts, and ravish'd from th'Embrace
Of lov'd Iülus, let him beg for Aid,
And see the barb'rous Murder of his Friends:
At last, on hard Conditions forc'd to sue
For Peace, his Kingdom let him ne'er enjoy,
Nor wish'd-for Light; but fall before his Time,
And lie unbury'd on the common Sand.
This I implore; and with my Blood pour forth
This dying Pray'r. Then you, my Tyrians, vex
With Hate immortal all their future Race;
And pay That grateful Off'ring to my Ghost:
Between These Nations let no League, or Truce

272

Be made: Thou, some Avenger, from my Dust
Arise, to prosecute with Fire and Sword
The Trojan Exiles; Now, in after times,
Whenever Strength sufficient shall be giv'n;
Let Shores to Shores be adverse, Seas to Seas,
And Arms to Arms: Let late Posterity
With stern Defiance wage eternal War.
She said; And ev'ry way her wav'ring Thoughts
Divided, and contriv'd with swift Dispatch
To break off Light detested. Then in brief
Barce, Sichæus' Nurse, she Thus bespeaks;
(For in the Grave her own was laid at Tyre:)
Dear Nurse, my Sister Anna hither send;
Bid her with Water from the living Stream
Her Body sprinkle o'er, and with her bring
The Victims, and the Sacrifice ordain'd
For Expiation: And do you your self
Your Temples with a holy Fillet bind;
I mean to finish the Religious Rites
To Pluto, which already I've prepar'd,
To end my Cares, and fire the Trojan Pile.
She said; The other, with th'officious haste
Of Age, her Orders studiously obeys.
But at her dire Design the desp'rate Queen
Trembling, and rolling round her sanguine Eyes,
(Her quiv'ring Cheeks with intermingled Spots
All fleck'd, and pale at near-approaching Death)
With frantick pace into the inner Court
Rushes, and furious eagerly ascends
The lofty Pile, unsheaths the Trojan Sword,

273

A Present not design'd for such a Use.
There, when the Trojan Robes, and conscious Bed
She saw; she paus'd a-while in Thought, and gave
A space to Tears: Her Body then she flings
Upon the Bed, and speaks her dying Words.
Ye dear Remains, while Heav'n and Fate were kind;
Receive This Soul, and free me from These Cares.
I've liv'd, and finish'd the allotted Course
Which Fortune gave me: Now my Royal Ghost
Must go enlarg'd down to the nether World.

274

I've built a stately City, seen my Walls,
Punish'd my barb'rous Brother, and reveng'd
My murder'd Husband. Happy had I been,
Ah! more than happy; had the Trojan Fleet
Ne'er touch'd my Coasts. Thus having spoke, she press'd
Her Face upon the Bed: And shall I then
Die unreveng'd? Yes; Thus to die, ev'n Thus,
Is better than to live. May from the Sea
The cruel Trojan view This fun'ral Blaze,
And with him bear the Omens of my Death.
Thus while she spoke; th'Attendants saw her fall,
The Sword all frothing, and her Hands besmear'd
With Blood: Loud Cries ascend the vaulted Roof;
Fame thro' th'astonish'd City wildly flies;
With shrill Laments, with Groans, and female Shrieks
The Houses ring; And Tumult rends the Sky.
As if all Carthage, by th'invading Foe,
Or ancient Tyre were fall'n; and raging Flames
O'er Tops of Houses, and of Temples roll'd.
Half dead, amaz'd, and trembling with Affright,
Her Sister heard; she tears her Visage, beats
Her Breast, and rushing thro' the midst calls loud
Upon the dying Queen. Was it for This,
My Sister? Did you then with study'd Fraud
Deceive me? And for This did I prepare
The Pile? These Altars? and the holy Fires?

275

What shall I first complain of, thus forlorn?
Did you disdain to let your Sister die,
And share Fate with you? Me you should have call'd
To the same Death; We should have perish'd Both
In the same Hour, and by the same Despair.
I too This Pile erected; and invok'd
Our Country-Gods: Ah! wherefore? That I might
Be absent, Cruel! at your Hour of Death?
Me, Sister, and Your self you have destroy'd;
Your City, our Sidonian Lords; and all
The State. Bring Water from the limpid Stream;
I'll bathe her Wounds, and catch her straggling Breath;
If any yet hang hov'ring o'er her Lips.
So saying, she ascends the lofty Pile;
And her expiring Sister in her Arms
Embraces, sighing deep; and with her Robe
Dries up the clotted Gore. She strives with pain
To lift her heavy Lids, and fainting sinks;
The Wound infix'd sounds deep beneath her Breast.
Thrice, leaning on her Arm, she feebly rais'd
Her Body; Thrice roll'd back upon the Bed:
With swimming Eyes seeks the last Light of Heav'n,
And groans to find it. Then the Wife of Jove,
Pitying her tedious Pangs, and struggling Death,
Sends Iris from above, to disengage

276

Her agonizing Soul. For since she fell
Neither by Fate, nor by a Death deserv'd;
But dy'd unfortunate before her Time,
Transported by a sudden Passion's rage:
As yet Proserpina her yellow Hair
Had not shorn off; nor to the Stygian Shades
Consign'd her. Iris then, with saffron Wings,
Dewy, and drawing from th'opposing Sun
A thousand various Colours in the Sky,
Alighted swift; and hov'ring o'er her Head,
This Lock to Pluto sacred, by Command,
I bear; and from This Body set thee free.
She said; and with her Right hand cut the Lock;
At once the vital Heat is all extinct,
And Life dissolving fleets into the Winds.
The End of the Fourth Book.