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TO THE Reverend William Harris D. D. Schoolmaster of the College near Winton.
1

The Second Epode of Horace Translated.

Happy the Man, who free from Debts and Care
(Such the first Mortals were)
Enjoys his small hereditary Field,
By his own Oxen till'd.
No harsh Alarms of War disturb his Ease,
Nor dreads he th' angry Seas;
He flies the Bar, nor does he meanly wait
At his Lordship's surly gate.
2

But either to his stripling Poplars joyns
The marriageable Vines:
And pruning useless branches from his Trees,
Grafts happier in their place:
Or in a winding Vale is pleas'd to see
His lowing Cattle stray:
Or his Bees labour in clean Vessels stows:
Or shears his tender Ewes:
Or, if grave Autumn o'er the Fields erect
His Head with Apples deckt.
How pleas'd the use of well-plac'd Art he reaps,
Fresh Pears, and purple Grapes!
Of these an Off'ring to the Gods he yields,
The Guardians of his Fields.
Now on some Oak's large foot he rests his Head,
Now on the slow'ry Mead.
Where thro' high Banks a neighb'ring Current plays:
Birds murmur thro' the Trees:
3

And chiding Rills, which o'er the Pebbles creep,
Invite to tender sleep.
But, when cold Rains and Snow at Jove's Command
Th' inverted Year attend;
With full-mouth'd Hounds into the crafty Snare
He thrusts the foaming Boar:
Or his thin Nets extended on the Bush
Betray the greedy Thrush:
The tim'rous Hare, and foreign Crane requite
With Profit his delight.
Who cannot hence all anxious Cares remove,
And chiefly those of Love?
But if a modest frugal Matron share
His Houshold, and his Care:
(Such as the brisk Apulian's Sunburnt Bride,
Or the chast Sabine Maid)
Who makes the Hearth with aged fuel burn,
Against her Swain's return:
4

Whose humble Hand thinks it no shame to pen,
And milk her wanton Kine:
And in neat Vessels to her Lord does bear
New Wine, and unbought Fare;
Not all too bounteous Nature's Luxury,
The spoils of Land and Sea,
A gust so grateful, as pick'd Olives, yield,
Or Sallets from the Field;
Or Lamb, or Kid slain at a solemn Feast,
With which choice Dainties blest,
What pleasure 'tis to see the fat Flocks come
From Pasture bleating home!
To see the weary Oxen faintly tow
Home the inverted Plow!
And with large swarms of useful Servants stor'd
To see the wealthy Board!
Thus wisely talk'd th' Old Banker, weary grown
Of Business and the Town,
5

Summon'd in all his Principals, and then—
He put 'em out agen.

A Translation from the first Book of Boethius de Consol. Phil.

I who in sprightly Verse once sung my Joy,
Must now sad thoughts and mournful numbers try
The sullen Muses only Grief inspire,
And Ills unfeign'd sad Elegies require.
The Muses faithful to my suff'rings stay,
Nor dread th' Infection of Misery.
These, who did once my happier Youth engage,
Are now the comforts of my wretched Age.
For I am Old; Age hasten'd on with Cares
And Sorrow claims the remnant of my Years.
Untimely Snow deforms my careful Head,
And shrivel'd Skin o'er my craz'd body's spread.
6

Death to Mankind a mighty Blessing were
Would it our Youth and happy Minutes spare,
And only rescue us from Age and Care.
But ah! the wretched's Cry it never hears,
Nor shuts those Eyes which are kept ope by tears.
While faithless Chance her empty Goods supply'd,
Fate seem'd in hast, and I had almost dy'd.
But now forsaken, and resign'd to Grief,
Death scorns me too, and I am curst with Life.
Why, Friends, so oft have ye pronounc'd me blest,
Secure, above the reach of Fortune plac'd?
By sad Experience I've your Errour found,
He, that could fall, stood but on slipp'ry ground.
7

A Song to his Majesty at VVinton. 1684.

From the troubles of State, and the Noise of the Town,
From being as busie as great,
From the tedious Pomp that attends on a Throne,
To Quiet and Us you retreat.
Here you spend those soft hours in Princely delight,
Which alone do the recompence bring
For the business and cares which wait on the Great,
For being so wise, so gracious a King.
Thus while the World was innocent and new,
Gods, kind and bountiful, like you,
Tir'd with the long Fatigue of Majesty,
Oft forsook their Thrones on high.
8

And to some humble Cell vouchsaf'd to go,
And by their sweet Retreat below,
Bless'd both themselves and Mortals too.

Cho.

Welcome, Great Sir, with all the joy
That's to your Sacred Presence due;
With all the Mirth which we enjoy,
That Mirth which we derive from you.

Ver.

Blest by your Presence every thing
Does with new Vigour now appear.
Another fresh and blooming Spring
Seems to recall the aged Year.
The happy Hours, which hasten hither,
Creep hence unwillingly and slow.
Time doubting stands, and knows not whether
Nature to obey or You.
Yet, might it your acceptance find,
Each Minute should for ever stay:
9

But see! the Crouds, which press behind,
Force the foremost Hours away.
Ceres for you would have reserv'd her store,
But for such greatness thought the sight too poor:
And not unjustly fear'd she might become,
By being too officious, troublesome.
And the God of our Art bid us come to salute you'
And begs you would kindly accept of our Duty:
But refus'd to assist us with his Divine Fires.
How should they want a God whom your Presence inspires.

Cho.

Therefore we freely come to praise
You, the Author of our Joys;
To own our happiness, and grow
Much more happy by doing so.
For Angels themselves, who are perfect in Joys,
No more happiness know than this,
10

To see, and adore, to love and to praise
The Fountain of their Bliss.

Song.

[While you with Musick and with Beauty charm]

While you with Musick and with Beauty charm,
And ev'ry Sense alarm;
All Hearts their strange united Pow'r confess,
Yet dare not wish it less.
Love finds to ev'ry Heart an easie Way
Or thro' the Ear or Eye.
So fair your Face,
So sweet your Voice;
You seem at once to be
Both Orpheus and Eurydice.
11

See how the Amorous, the happy Air,
More happy far than I,
Proud to be moulded into Sounds by her,
About her Lips do's play!
Till kist into a Note it skips away,
And prattles loud its Joy.
Ah! Cruel Fair,
Your Scorn forbear
Nor give that Liberty
To Air, which is deny'd to me.

Song.

[O Extasie Divine! I cannot hold!]

O Extasie Divine! I cannot hold!
Farewel dull Earth! see! where my ravish'd Soul
Stands shiv'ring on the edg of it's slow Clay!
With the next rising Note 'twill sly away.
12

I faint! I faint! the pow'rful Charm forbear!
Nay; but sing on; sure that will keep it here.
Whither fond Soul! Ah! whither would'st thou sly?
To Heav'n? can there be sweeter Harmony?
'Tis strange the Charms of Harmony, which give
To all things Life should make me cease to live.
Yet is this Death? If it be thus to die,
Death cannot be a Curse: or if it be,
Ye angry Pow'rs may't ever light on me.

To Thomas Lord Bishop of Bath and Wells

staying at Winton, after his promotion to that See. 1685.

As when of old on Ida's verdant Plain
Paris the young, the gay, the charming Swain,
Long with success had reign'd the Shepherds Lord,
And their pride; prais'd by all, by all ador'd,
13

At length acknowledge mighty Priam's Son,
And warn'd to leave his Cottage for a Throne,
Forc'd to be great, and ravish'd to a Crown,
Long doubtful thro' the pensive Shades he roves,
Loth to forsake his dear familiar Groves,
And all his tender flocks, and all his tender loves.
Oft to the Nymphs and Swains he bids adieu;
Oft tells his Case, and how he's forc'd to go.
The Nymphs and Swains as much concern'd as he,
Weep, doubting whether 'tis for Grief or Joy.
To lose their darling Lord unwilling they,
Yet dare not bid him from a Kingdom stay.
While diff'rent Passions thus distort their mind,
In their rack'd breast a doleful Joy they find,
And blame the Fates for being too severely kind.
So you, Great Sir, our Joy, our Pride, our ------
(For your exalted State fain would I frame
Some more expressive, more endearing Name;
14

But ah! you were so much our All before,
That now you are not, nor can e're be more)
To your Success what Tribute do we owe!
We would be grateful, but we know not how.
To shew our Joy were but to bid you go;
Such farewels are to parting Tyrants due,
To base, dull men, and all who are unlike to you.
Yet can we grieve, and wish you always here?
Meer Envy that, and no less Madness were,
Than to wish our Friends, who with th' Immortal reign
Themselves Immortal, here on Earth again.
Yet you vouchsafe to bless us with your stay,
And slowly hence even to Glory sly:
But smiling thro' these peaceful Shades you glide,
Like some calm Ghost where all his Treasure's hid.
You, who had largely clear'd your Debts before,
Now out of Charity t'o'repay the score.
15

Thrice happy Bath to you with joy does bow,
Much to Great Charles she ows, and much to you,
Nor does she more to her own Bladud owe.
She now shall feel those strong Meridian Rays
Of that bright Sun which in our East did rise.
But tho he shine with greater lustre there,
Yet were his beams more close and tender here.
For still the Sun most vital warmth bestows
On that blest Earth, from which himself arose.
Nor shall this Age alone your Glory know,
But ev'n Posterity shall boast of you.
When future times shall Wickham's off spring count,
Who did by steps the Seat of Honour mount,
Then, then shall you, and only you, be found,
Who reach'd a Mitre from so low a ground.
When others often pitch'd, and stop'd for ease,
At one bold slight you gain'd the mighty Space.
16

Thus all e'en the Uninteress'd admire
The glorious height you've reach'd, and wish you high'r.
Full Tides of Joy all Shores and Channels fill,
And on each Brow sits a contented smile.
Only we feel a dull, imperfect Joy,
Fear'd absence present Comforts does allay.
Yet why should we by discontented moan
Idly disturb your pleasures, and our own?
For thus Rome lost (if that a loss could be)
Her Founder to be made a Deity.

On the Recovery of the Spanish Wrack, by Captain Phips. 1686.

Long uncontroul'd had the proud Ocean
Usurp'd a lawless Tyranny o'er Man.
Where'er it roll'd, the Arbitrary Tide
Plunder'd, and Nature's useless Laws desy'd.
17

No place secure to Mariners was known,
Nor were their Goods, nor were themselves their own.
Oft caught in Storms by wanton Whirlwinds made,
They and their Hopes together sunk and dy'd.
In vain did they the pitying Heav'n implore,
Heav'n that should pity them, was scarce secure.
So great the Rage and Av'rice of the Sea,
Not all it's Floods could wash it's Guilt away.
Tho on cach Wave there rode a Bucanier,
Tho Tunis, Sally, Tripoly were there,
No greater Pirate than it self it bare.
Phips, first of all the Heroes of the Main,
Durst make Reptizal on the Sea again.
He Neptune first with equal pow'r attack'd,
And first by him the Sea it self was wrack'd.
Beneath vast Depths where Waves retire to rest,
Nor Moons nor Winds the sleeping Floods molest;
18

A Mass of harmless Virgin-wealth there lay,
Unstain'd by Avarice or Luxury;
Which had not Justice yet, nor Peace oppos'd,
Nor Pardons bought for Sins it self had caus'd.
It there, while thousand Tides their Circuits run,
Lay unregarded, and despair'd the Sun:
Till Phips at last the wond'ring Metal drew
From deeper Mines, than where at first it grew.
Thro' harmless Waves the wanton Divers play,
And with dissembled drowning, mock the Sea.
The wond'ring Fish on their new Brethren gaze,
And greet the strange Appendix to their Race.
Secure of danger play'd the wat'ry kind,
Nor fear'd the Net for nobler prey design'd:
Soon had they fill'd the lab'ring Ship with Coin,
Almost enough to sink it back again.
Thence with swell'd hearts and sails they homeward fly,
And trembling Waves bring their own wealth away.
19

And first, Great Monarch, at your feet they lay
This humble Tribute of your Subject Sea.
'Tis true, the British Monarchs long in vain
Have boasted Sov'reign Lordship o'er the Main;
But never was their Pow'r confest till now,
By Fate that Blessing was reserv'd for you.
Long did the sloating World your Courage dread,
Your Fame as far, as Seas themselves, is spread.
When other Foes have all your Pow'r confest,
You triumph o'er the Sea it self at last.
Next to Great Monk the largest Prize accru'd,
Monk, who was born of a recov'ring Blood.
When Western Islands were design'd his care.
These the kind Omens of his Fortune were.
Tis thought, when Neptune his preferment heard,
He sent this Present to his future Lord.
20

On the Feast of Cecilia. 1686.

An ODE.

1.

Io! With triumphant Noise,
With Musick's loudest Voice,
This day a solemn Feast proclame.
A solemn Feast to Great Cecilia's Name.
No cloudy Thought, no sullen Tear,
No tumultuous Care or Fear
Approach the limits of this sacred Day,
Sacred to Musick and Cecilia;
But all be sweet, serene and gay;
Sweet as the Saint to whom these Rites we pay;
Sweet as the Notes she did below, or now above does play.
21

2

Musick! thou only perfect Joy,
Which neither present Fears allay,
Nor after pangs destroy!
The dear remembrance of the Pleasure past
Shall no Repentance cost,
Bring with it no Regret,
But be, like it's own Eccho sweet.
Musick! thou mighty Soul o'th' Universe!
Which dost, like (thine own God) the Sun,
Thro' all thine active pow'r disperse,
And all the stupid Mass with life and beauty crown:
Methinks I now behold sweet Orpheus sit
On Strymon's Bank, and tune his Lyre
To Sounds which life and vig'rous joys inspire:
Round him the list'ning Beasts their food forget,
Forget to play,
And without motion round the Charmer stay.
22

But nimbler Trees, when they the Musick hear,
(Musick which gives them ear)
Leap forth, and wanton round the place;
Trees skip, like Beasts; Beasts stand unmov'd, like Trees.
Pines, Elms, and Cedars in long rows advance,
An aged Oak leads up the Dance:
Two hundred years it stood the Wood's chief pride,
So long Jove's Bolts and strugling Winds defy'd;
Now from it's bed of Earth away it tears,
And round it's spreading roots a weighty Mountain bears.

3.

Hark! Hark! th' harmonious accents move,
Thro' the brisk Air th' enliven'd Numbers rove;
About they dance, about they play,
And call the ravish'd Soul away:
The Soul th' harmonious Summons does obey;
The Soul, which is it self all Harmony.
23

With all it's sprightly train of Faculties,
Out at the Ear it flies.
Hence 'tis, that oft with height of Extasie
We faint and die away.
The Soul, in hast to be at large,
And heedless of it's Charge,
Leaves almost uninform'd the stupid Clay.
Now o'er the trembling strings it bounds,
Now thro' the Air pursues the slitting Sounds;
Then lured back again,
By some more gentle strain,
Calm and languishing it lies,
Grasping the new-born Accents as they rise;
Greets all th' harmonious Brethren as they pass;
Does each soft Note embrace:
And fain would here acquainted grow
With that, that only Joy,
24

Which, of all those we seem to have below,
Shall with it self share Immortality.

4.

To thee, Cecilia, Guardian Saint, to thee
This Tribute of our Time and Art we pay.
While thou in lofty Thoughts and sweetest Lays
Exalt'st thy Maker's praise;
We (tho' in humbler Verse, in coarser strain)
Presume to prattle thine.
Musick, dear Saint, is both thy Bliss and Care,
Above thou enjoy'st it, and protect'st it here.
So that 'tis hard to say,
Thou blessest Musick most; or Musick thee.

Chorus.

Then sooner let the rolling Year forget,
Among it's num'rous Train,
To bring this happy Day again,
Than we it's yearly Rites to celebrate:
25

And let each sweet Intelligence above,
Which to harmonious Sounds does move
His Golden Sphere,
When he beholds this glitt'ring Day
Return, and in the Dance of Time appear,
Strike the Chords full, and make an universal Symphony.

On a Lady's Birth-day.

As when an Envoy from some pow'rful King
To needy States does peaceful tidings bring,
The meanest Servants, who attend his Train,
Their part of Honour and Respect obtain:
So when some signal Blessing from above
Proclaims Man's Happiness, and Heaven's Love;
The very Hours, which bring the mighty Good,
Their welcome claim and share our Gratitude:
26

Hence, Madam, 'tis we now prepare to pay
Our grateful Honours to th' ensuing Day.
And sure thus much to this kind Time is due,
This Time, that all, for which to Heav'n we sue,
Our Hopes and Wishes brought, that brought us You.
By one day's Duty thus we cheaply pay
For Blessings which we all the Year enjoy.
See! how the eager Moments justle forth,
Proud to be seen, and conscious of their worth!
Some witness, by sad Looks and sullen Frowns,
They saw your Mother's pangs and heard her groans:
But ever gazing backward seem to shew
The hours behind should recompence her Woe.
And lo! the joyful hour at length appears,
Which eas'd your Mother's pangs and Father's fears!
How beautiful, how chearful does it pass!
As if 't had learn'd from You the Art to please.
27

And hear me, Courteous Moment, e'er thou go,
Thou hast my Thanks, receive my Wishes too,
May'st thou each year (if possible) add more
Fresh Charms and Blessings to her former store!
And (since our Wishes can no higher rise)
Make her, Oh! only make her what she is!
May'st thou her Years, and our Joys oft renew!
Thus may'st thou oft return, but very slow;
For such alas! so frail a thing is Man;
Ev'n that kind Moment, which his Life began,
By frequent Visits takes it back again.

On a Lady's Picture.

Believe, Posterity, believe it true,
This from no fancied Form the Pencil drew;
No Angel sate, with lucid Visions sent,
To bless the Eyes of some departing Saint.
28

No! all the Charms which on this Picture dwell
(And ah what pity 'tis!) are mortal all.
Thus much 'tis sit to let the Picture speak,
Lest this for some bright Being they mistake
Of Heav'nly Race; and to Mankind be lost
The greatest Honour it could ever boast.

Friendship.

He who (if any such) shall condescend
With worthless me to share the name of Friend,
May he, ye Pow'rs of Love, Oh! may he be
From fulsome Vice, and sow'r ill Nature free:
No too warm Passion in his Bosom reign,
Nor Pride, nor Envy his good Nature stain,
May he want Faults himself, and eas'ly pardon mine.
29

Or rather some small Failings let him have,
He'll learn, by being forgiven, to forgive.
Stanch to our mutual Secrets let him be;
One I may trust, and one who dares trust me:
Not sullen, nor impertinently kind,
Whom Choice to me, not Chance or Int'rest, joyn'd:
Who rose from an Acquaintant to a Friend:
Not too unequal in Estate or Blood,
Lest Distance sneaking seem, or Freedome rude;
A friend to Thought and Books, and (might I chuse)
Not wholly unacquainted with a Muse.
One who (which Heav'n forbid) can cease to be
A Friend, yet not become an Enemy.
From ill Reports, who dares his utmost do,
To clear me when they're false, t'excuse me when they're true.
My Praise, when just, let him be free to speak,
But Flatt'ry let him scorn to give, or take.
30

Who can with me chat a spare Hour away,
Yet censure not what others do or say:
Bold to reprove, when Vertue I offend,
Only to me, not to my Faults, a Friend.
Thus may we long hold Friendship, and adore
Only our Honour, and our Conscience more.

The Impatient.

Enough, enough of this worlds fruitless Care,
And ev'n it's Pleasures I have suffer'd here.
I'm weary of Life's gross Hypocrisie,
With Plenty starv'd, cloy'd with Variety.
O happy, happy State, when I shall be
From fancy'd Good, and real Evil free!
When one short well spent Sigh shall me remove
From all the Cheats mistaken Mortals love!
31

When, undeceiv'd by fancy'd shadows, I
Shall very Beauty in it's Fountain see!
O happy, happy State! Why do I stay?
Move faster, Time, how slowly dost thou fly,
As if the weight of Years had crippled thee?
Thou, Death's Procurer, quickly bring me safe
Into the cold Embraces of the Grave;
There shall I blest, at least shall quiet lie,
Till the Angelick Summons from on High
Call me to Bliss and real Life away.
Then shall devouring Flame, with fury hurl'd,
Revenge my quarrel on th' injurious World.
Then thou shalt cease, and Death himself shall die;
And both together lost and bury'd lie,
He in eternal Life, and thou in vast Eternity.
32

The Resolution.

Thanks to your scorn, I now at length am free:
Is this what am'rous Fools call Cruelty:
For this would any sigh, for this repine?
I'm sure her Kindness had more cruel been.
No! faithless World, that weight of scorn, which she
Threw on my head, I thus return on thee.
I now thy Fellies and thy Malice slight,
And will be happy, even out of spight.
I now no more my Vows and Tears shall lose,
No more in fruitless Sighs my breath abuse;
Sin shall have all my Sighs and Tears; and Vertue all my Vows.
Henceforth, my Soul, be thou and Heav'n my care,
Ye worthy of my Thoughts and Minutes are,
There is no Scorn, no Disappointment there.
33

Pardon, dear Heav'n, my hours in Folly spent,
The Crime it self was it's own Punishment!
But now unpeg'd from Earth I upward move,
To thee, Essential Fair, Eternal Love:
The Sphere of Earth's Activity I've past,
Here it's Magnetick Influence is lost.
I come, great Love; my panting Soul does fly,
With all it's Weight still pressing up to thee.
And now do thou thy needful Succour lend,
From Vice, and from my self, my self defend.
So shall I Death and Life it self defie;
That smiling, but more dang'rous Enemy:
And my last breath in sullen Sighs I'll vent,
Only for Grief that 'twas no sooner spent.
34

The Departure.

I

Dissuade me not; I cannot stay;
Hence with cruel Piety!
If ye from Death would set me free,
Quickly, Oh! quickly let me die!
Hark! I am summon'd hence; I must depart;
The joyful Halleluja's now begun
To him that sits on the Eternal Throne,
In which I'm call'd to bear a Part.

2

Oh! what a Scene of Glory opens there!
See! where the Martyrs valiant Hosts appear!
35

With Crimson Garlands Crown'd, and white attire;
With Hymns of Joy their Lord they greet,
His and their Sufferings repeat,
And now in Flames of Love almost expire.

3

There spotless Infants sit and smile,
Whom Guilt or Care did ne'er defile!
See, what bright Rays of Glory they dispense,
Clad in white Robes, and whiter Innocence!
There Angels, Heav'ns bright Ministers, I see
Gaze, and admire the Mystery.
Aloud their thankful Hymns are heard,
Pleas'd to see their younger Brethren to themselves prefer'd.

4

And is there here a place for me
To sit awhile, and see
(For sure it were too much t'enjoy)
The glorious Solemnity?
36

Oh! in this happy place let me but serve!
I scarce can wish for more, and I much less deserve.

CONTENT.

A Pastoral Dialogue.

Thyrsis.
By your Pipe's leave, good Damon, say
(If thou canst ought but sing and play)
Why, when all the Swains complain,
These of Drought, and those of Rain;
Some that Ewes unnat'ral prove;
Some pine for Envy, some for Love;
Only thou, of all the Swains,
With Songs and Smiles divert'st the Plains?
Say, my gentle Shepherd, say,
Why art thou so blith and gay?

37

Damon.
Rather, Shepherd, tell me, why,
If Swains will be Fools, must I
Play the Fool for Company?
Swains unwisely do complain,
Some of Drought, and some of Rain;
They may thank themselves for what's amiss:
They make their own Unhappiness.
Some wish, and see their Flocks increase;
They gain Wealth, but lose their Peace:
Folds enlarg'd enlarge their Care;
Who have much, for much must fear:
Others see their Flocks decay;
With their Flocks they pine away.
The Shepherd, who would happy be,
Must not seek Causes for his Joy;
Must not for Pretences tarry:
But be unreasonably merry.

38

Thyr.
But, Damon, if thy Folds decrease;
If Frost thy falling Lambkins seize;
Does not thy Breast with Sorrow swell?

Dam.
No; yet I love my Lambkins well!
Whatsoe'r by Pan is sent,
Still I think a Blessing meant:
If he will retrench my store,
He takes but what he gave before.
Life's an Art, and Happiness
A Knack, which Swains may learn with ease.

Thyr.
Ah! gentle Shepherd! only show,
How I may blest and happy grow.
This Sheep-Crook, which I long have kept,
See! 'tis rich Wood, and finely shap'd:
'Twas good Menalcas's Legacy,
When he left the World and me;
(Damon,that falling Tear forgive,
Menalcas did deserve my Grief):
39

He the pretty Sheep-crook gave,
Which oft did my Lycoris crave:
Oft she crav'd, but ne'er could gain:
Yet shew me this, and it is thine.

Dam.
I too can boast t'have shar'd a part,
When time was, in Menalcas Heart.
And, Thyrsis, for his sake I'll show,
How thou may'st blest and happy grow;
Yet thou shalt keep thy Sheep crook too.
Not that I pretend to be
From Troubles or from Passion free;
But still my Thoughts I fasten there,
Whére I find least ground for Care.
Heav'n wisely tempers Humane Life;
Wisely mingles Joy and Grief.
And I still chuse to mind the best;
Let who will think upon the rest.
40

If Frost my falling Lambs destroy,
Yet my Ewes I still enjoy:
But if they should perish too,
Yet I, Methinks, were blest enow.
Still my Pipe and Verse remain;
The Poem, Alcon brag'd, was mine.
Sometimes my other Songs I've shew'd,
And Shepherds seem to think they're good.
Yes! and they call me Poet too;
But I'm too wise to think it true.
Udemia, sweetest, fairest Maid!
For her these two white Kids I feed.
The Gift is hearty, tho' but small;
In Gifts the Giver's Mind is all.
For her I wish my Flock's increase;
Yet she shall never break my Peace.
I'm blest enough, if kind she prove;
If not; she do'nt deserve my Love.

41

Thyr.
Hold a while, good Damon, hold!
Yonder Ram has broke the Fold.
'Tis a cross, unlucky thing:
Go there, Lightfoot, fetch him in!
Shepherd, now resume thy Lays,
And I'll crown thy head with Bays.

Dam.
If tuneful Birds salute the Spring.
From the Birds I learn to sing;
If the Heavens laugh a while,
From the Heav'ns I learn to smile:
But if Mists obscure the Day,
And black Clouds fright the Sun away;
I never dread the angry Sky;
Why should I think it frowns on me?
I to my peaceful Cell retreat;
Yonder see the homely Seat
'Tis what Nature did provide;
(Nature I ever make my Guide)
42

There I sit, and there I play,
Cheat my Cares and Hours away:
Reflect on honest Pleasures past,
Or which I shall hereafter tast:
Think on the Time, when I shall be
From Clouds and Storms for ever free;
Plac'd in Elysium; where, they say,
Blest Ghosts enjoy Eternal Day,
Eternal Spring; where, all the year,
The Fields their freshest Honours wear.
So I heard old Sophron say;
I heard, and almost wish'd to die.
In vain the sullen Heavens scowl,
Storms and Tempests round me howl;
I make fair Weather in my Soul:
All Occasions I embrace,
Which may give me Joy and Peace:
43

And drive bad Objects from my Thought;
What can't be cur'd, is best forgot.
Now say, my honest Thyrsis, say,
Why should not I be blith and gay?

Thyr.
Be ever blith, be ever gay;
Pan reward thy Courtesie:
Blessings on thy Pipe, and thee!
Health to thy Flock, Peace to thy Mind;
And be thy lov'd Udemia kind.

To the King.

I

No Rest, no Leisure to the breathless Muse,
No Respite, Mighty Monarch, you allow:
As if your Conquests might be sung by us
With as much Ease as they are gain'd by you.
44

2

But where? Ah! where's that sinewy Son of Wit,
Who can sufficient Strength for Verse supply?
If each bold Foe fresh Triumphs must beget,
And you subdue as fast as they can sly.

3

If to each vanquish'd Realm a Verse be due,
(And sure a vanquish'd Realm deserves no less)
The Nine must yield themselves o'erpower'd too,
And but by Silence publish your Success.

4

Methinks with Ease and Pleasure we could pay
To your great Name a yearly Tax of Wit;
But ah! who knows what Years to come may be?
Alass! there's a whole World unconquer'd yet.
45

5

When disintangled from Domestick War,
The full Strength of your Arm shall there be shown,
Where our Third Edward, and Fifth Henry, where
You th' greater Heroe have such wonders done.

6

Then Monthly, daily Conquests must engage
Our Pens, till all the Fund of Wit be spent;
Till we sit dumb, and like impoverish'd Age,
In vain our past Extravagance repent.

7

Yet shall the future rob the present? shall
We be unjust for Fear of being poor?
Let's pay this Debt: 'twill be excusable
Ingratitude when we can give no more.
46

8

Accept then, happy Prince, our grateful Praise,
For mighty Deeds which you alone could do;
Accept the only Trophies we can raise,
For Dangers you alone could undergoe.

9

Witness that dreadful, yet that lucky Day;
When random Deaths unfear'd about you slew,
When one bold Ruffian-shot, as through the Sky
It took it's Flight, durst aim it self at you.

10

But the wing'd Fate your Guardian Angel saw,
And with officious Hast he put it by;
Yet by a gentle Stroke did th' Danger shew,
Lest the kind Office should unheeded die.
47

11

Soon as the dismal Chance was whisper'd round,
The Legions trembling stood and scarce drew Breath!
As if the Army had receiv'd a Wound,
And from your Bruise each man had fear'd his Death.

12

Fate in all other Shapes they could despise,
(To kill and die their Pleasure and their Trade)
But now their Souls unusual Horrors seize,
Death, their great Master in this form they dread.

13

But when next Morn you led them forth to fight,
Fearless and chearful march'd th' imbatteld host;
Resolv'd that slaughter'd Enemies e're Night,
Should pay large Int'rest for the Blood you lost.
48

14

But what bold Muse shall sing that glorious Day,
When led by Fame through Boyn's Rebellious Flood;
Tho' Foes and Nature did obstruct your Way,
Ev'n Foes and Nature you at once subdu'd?

15

There em'lous Nations from your Royal Breath,
Dreading Repulse, did Wounds and Dangers crave;
From you each begg'd the foremost place in Death,
And almost envy'd Foes the Wounds they gave.

16

In vain they beg'd; you chose your self; and led
Th' impotent Troops where thickest Danger lay;
The doubtful Enemy half fought, half fled,
Asham'd to live, and yet afraid to die.
49

17

O! what a Scene of Blood did then appear!
Death too that day a mighty Conquest gain'd;
Thick Widow'd Souls fled trembling through the air,
As if they fear'd another Death behind.

18

Malicious Spirits throng'd the upper Air,
Their Nostrils with fat Steams of Blood to feast;
The King of Terrors reign'd unquestion'd there,
Mere Carcasses his settled Pow'r confest.

19

But here did Fate its work unfinish'd shew,
Imperfect Life lay strugling thro' the Wound;
The grumbling Soul curst the too gentle Foe,
Th' half Body spurn'd and champ'd the purple ground.
50

20

Let others sing how you with angry Hast
Pursu'd your Conquest o'er the bloody Plain;
Pursu'd, as long as Rage and Day did last,
As long as Foes were found who dar'd be slain.

21

Stay thou my Muse, and drop a pious Tear;
Where by bold hands the aged Gen'ral lies,
There let fresh Garlands flourish all the year,
And o'er his Urn Eternal Laurels rise.

22

The aged Gen'ral, who, nurst up in War,
Grown old in Fights yet none successless knew;
And now his Fall undecent would appear,
But in the Field, and when victorious too.
51

23

And now proceed! the Conqu'ring King attend:
But lo! he's gone; like Lightning cuts his way;
See! Fame her self lies panting far behind,
And only Conquest bears him Company.

24

Whither Great Prince, ah! whither will you press:
Stake not that Life against a worthless Foe,
For which all Kingdoms were too mean a Price;
England has all she asks while she has you.

25

Yet you for us uncertain Chances prove,
To Fame through Toil and Danger force your way;
Tho' here soft Ease, and a fond Peoples Love,
And a yet fonder Princess court your stay.
52

26

A Princess, worthy Partner of your Throne,
No ornamental Burthen, useless Pride;
A Princess You, ev'n warlike You, may own,
Who can your Cares, as well as Joys, divide.

27

You here in soft ignoble Ease might sit,
And dictate Battles from a lazy Throne;
You by vicarious Courage might grow great,
And crown your Front with Laurels not your own

28

But Greatness you thro' arduous Paths pursue,
You share in Danger, as in Fame, require;
And scarce your Health its needful Care allow;
Your Peoples Fase is all that you desire.
53

29

So the kind Sun with never ceasing Toil,
Large Journeys takes its Blessings to dispense:
But the dull Earth sits idle all the while,
And undisturb'd enjoys it's Influence.

ETERNITY.

A Pindarique ODE.

I.

Come, Goddess, come, said I,
Thou who to thy Golden Lyre
Sing'st mighty Men and mighty Things;
Come, and with uncommon Strains
Inspire my ravish'd Soul.
Teach me new slights of Thought and Verse.
Verse wond'rous sweet, Thoughts wond'rous high.
54

Which may deserve my Theme.
Come and unfetter'd from the Clog of Rhime
Bear me aloft;
If I perhaps, from any height,
May a full Prospect have
Of the wide Circuit of Eternity.
The Muse obedient came, and I
Soon bid Adieu to things below.
And mounted on the Poets Mystie Horse;
(Well meaning fable, fancy's Emblem true,)
Tour'd arching upward, till,
Thro that blew Curtain, which
Keeps things Celestial hid from Mortal Sight,
I came at length,
Above the starry Fornix of the sky;
Into th' Ideal World, where Angels breath
Aether resin'd;
Where they mysterious Truths
55

Discover at one Glance intuitive;
Where things unmade and made in their first Patterns lie

2.

I stood, and fix'd my Eye intent
Upon Eternity:
And fain would learn what that great Name contain'd;
What Nature, and if any Bounds it had;
Whether it were an endless Round of Years,
Where Suns in vain their annual Courses run;
Still the same Point returns,
And Labours finish'd only bring them back
Fresh Labours to begin:
Or whether one fix'd undivided Point,
In which past, present, and to come,
Daughters of variation have no place:
If it were Twin to the Almighty Pow'r;
Or only He himself.
56

I gaz'd, but ah! the Object was too bright,
And mortal Sight too weak.
Sometimes, methought, I saw it plain,
And 'twas a glorious Sight:
But soon in broken Mists away it danc'd,
And left mishapen Figures in mine Eye.
Yet not despairing, a brisk Thought I chose,
Long wing'd and made for hasty Flight;
Which I had oft successfully employ'd
To search the Regions Intellectual.
Her I sent off, to see,
If any where flat Shore, or butting Cape
Appear'd to terminate the wild Abyss:
Or if perhaps at distance she might hear
The breaking Billows rutt upon the Beach.
But after wandring long,
And many fruitless Gyres,
Back to her Ark she panting came;
57

And by short Breath and drooping Wings
Confest no Land was to be found,
No where to rest her weary Foot;
But all was one vast Globe and Ocean:

3.

For thee, great Name, what will not Mortals dare?
For thee alike the Good and Impious strive,
Certain to raise to raise a durable,
Regardless whether good or evil, Fame:
For thee Erostratus, bold Villain, dar'd
Destroy th' Ephesian Temple with it's Goddess,
Vain Idol (but not such to him)
Tho' her fond Vot'ries feign
She absent was that Night,
Attending at the Birth
Of the great Macedonian Conquerour.
58

Beneath the lofty Roof he stood,
And upward cast an Envious Look;
And, shall these VValls, said he,
Remain the VVonder of all Nations,
And endless Ages yet to come,
VVhen I shall he forgotten in the Grave?
Nay; but I'll try by this great Action, which
Perhaps fond Men will not call Good,
To make my self Immortal, as the Goddess.
Perhaps all future Times will curse my Name;
Let them; they must remember what they curse.
He said: And in the kindled Ball he threw.
VVhich soon thro' all the House
It's sulphurous Infection spread.
Up rose the Flames
Crackling, and in their pitchy Arms
To Cinders crush'd the VVonder of the World,
And Pride of Ephesus.
59

So daring, so extravagant a Crime
Could the thirst of Eternity persuade!

4.

But how much better they,
VVho climbing to the same Eternity,
Yet trod the paths of Vertue and of Honour
Heroes who bravely died,
Their Countries Fall preventing by their own!
This was the Purchase of their Sufferings;
Ev'n dying still they hop'd,
The loss of some few wretched Years
Should be repaid with everlasting Fame:
This from all Nations drew
Young daring Champions to th' Olympian Plains:
For this the VVrestler strove:
This was the Racer's Goal.
60

Not flow'ry Garlands, and one years Applause
They sought; but to be Register'd
In the Records of Fame, and to be known for ever.
This they all sought; but ah! how few obtain'd!
Hiero, Theron, and some happy few
Has Pindar sav'd
From the Iron Teeth of Time;
And lest their Names richly embalm'd
In Spicy Verse,
To be the Envy of succeeding Heroes.
And they shall live; but all the rest
Long since unremember'd lie,
Lost in the Grave and mix'd with nameless things.

5.

Not so Thee, William, best of British Kings,
The sole Defence of Neighb'ring States,
61

And Glory of your own,
Ever shall ungrateful Years
Resign to Night and dark Oblivion:
But, after long Descents have handed down
The Lamp of Life to late Posterity,
Your Name and Praise shall still remain;
Still shall Aged Fathers sit,
And to their list'ning Children tell,
How sweet you were in Peace, how rough in War:
How fierce you led your Squadrons forth:
With what an Artful Grace
You broke the foaming Steed, but he
Bounds prancing forward, and disdains the Ground
How bright your dawn of Youth:
How strong your Manhood shone:
The honourable Wound you gain'd
At Boyn's rebellious Stream:
VVhat Conquests there you won
62

(Conquests, which I attempted in bold Verse,
Pleas'd with my Theme,
Tho' much inferiour to so great a Task.)
VVhat angry Counsels now you meditate
On the Batavian Plains;
Resolv'd to rescue Captive Rhine,
VVhere he runs sobbing on,
By ruin'd Cities, heretofore it's Glory,
Now Grief; and Desolations wide;
I laudable Effects of Gallick Cruelty.

6.

Yet think not, Mighty Prince!
Think not Eternity the Warriour's Meed;
Think not that Fame can give
That Immortality which you deserve.
63

The World it self is Mortal, and must die:
Materials for it's Fun'ral Pile
Already are prepar'd;
VVithin the sooty Bowels of the Earth.
Then Time shall cease, and thou, my Soul,
Shalt then a Portion have
In that which now thou canst not comprehend.
Then, if innoffensive Life,
If Faith and Piety have been thy Care:
Mixt with Angelick Poets, thou
Shalt Endless Hallelujah's sing
To the Eternal Potentate,
And who alone hath Immortality.
The End.
65

[Virgil's Æneis Translated.]

The First BOOK OF VIRGIL's ÆNEIS TRANSLATED.

I sing of Wars, and that great Exile's Fame,
Who first from Troy to destin'd Latium came:
Long exercis'd with storms at Land and Sea,
By stress of Fate and Juno's Cruelty:
Much too by Chance of doubtful War distress'd,
Ere he of his tir'd Gods could fix their rest.
Hence sprung the Glory of the Latin Name,
Hence Alba's State and Petra's proud Turrets came.
66

But thou, my Muse, unfold the secret Cause,
Whence Juno's so undecent Anger rose:
Why she in such Variety of Ills,
Laborious Dangers, and uncertain Toils,
Engag'd an Heroe fam'd for Piety.
And can the Pow'rs of Heav'n malicious be?
Facing th' Italian Shore, and Tyber's Flood,
An antient Colony of Tyrians stood,
Expert in Arts of War, mighty in Wealth,
Carthage its Name.—
This of all Lands was Juno's darling Seat,
Not her own Samos more belov'd than it:
Here all the Symbols of her Deity,
Her Chariot, Launce, all her Regalia lay:
This she (should Fate prove to her Purpose kind)
Ev'n then for Empress of the World design'd.
But she had hear'd of some, who, sprung from Troy,
Should her Design and Carthage Walls destroy:
67

A People hence in Strength and Empire great
Should Libya wast: such was the will of Fate.
This Fear perplex'd the anxious Juno's Thought;
Nor was the Quarrel of her Greeks forgot;
Nor were th' Orig'nal Causes of her Hate,
Her first Indignities forgiven yet:
Deep at her Heart young Paris's rash Decree,
And the Affront of her scorn'd Beauty, lay.
Too well she knew whence sprung the Trojan Race,
And Ganymed's hated Honours, her Disgrace.
Fir'd with these Thoughts, the broken force of Troy
(Slender Remains of Grecian Cruelty)
She far from Latium kept, long wandring o'er the Sea.
O'er all the Main, long were they driv'n by Fate:
So much it cost to raise the Roman State.
Scarce out of Sight of fruitful Sicily
Their Sails they spread, and plow'd the frothy Sea;
When Juno ------
68

Eternal Malice glowing in her Breast,
Thus with her self: And must I yield at last?
And must the Trojan King in spite of me
In Latium reign? Forsooth, 'tis Fate's Decree.
Could Pallas then for Ajax Sin alone
The Grecian Navy burn, the Grecians drown?
She from the Clouds Jove's rapid Thunder cast,
With Fire the Fleet, the Sea with Winds opprest;
And the poor Criminal, with Thunder struck,
Snatch'd thro' a Storm, and stak'd him on a Rock.
But I, the Sister and the Wife of Jove,
The Queen of Gods, thus long in vain have strove
With this one Race: and who henceforth will sue
To Juno's Name? who at her Altars bow?
Thus fir'd, and certain of Revenge, with speed
The sullen Goddess to Æolia fled,
The Land where Tempests dwell where Whirlwinds breed.
69

Here mighty Æolus the struggling Winds
And noisie Tempests in strong Caverns binds:
They in hoarse Murmurs round the Mountains howl;
But their great King from his high Throne does rule
Their mad Desires, and all their Rage controul.
Were't not for him, soon from the Roots they'd tear
Heav'n, Earth, and Seas; and sweep them thro the Air.
But the Almighty Father, fearing this,
To gloomy Caves confin'd the boistrous Race:
And with strong Rocks and pond'rous Mountains barr'd
The Avenues; and plac'd a Sov'raign Lord,
VVho should by standing Laws know to asswage,
Or, when commanded, to allow their Rage.
And thus to him did Juno humbly pray:
Great Æolus, Controuler of the Sea,
Whom, next to Jove, the Winds and Waves obey,
70

A Race I hate o'er Tuscan VVaters steer,
And their once vanquish'd Gods to Latium bear,
Purpos'd to raise another Ilium there.
Send forth thy VVinds; sink that rebellious Train;
Or scatterd let them never meet again:
Twice sev'n bright Nymphs now in my Palace shine,
Of whom, if thou comply with my Design,
The fairest Deiopeia shall be thine:
That in thy Arms she may long Ages lead,
And with a beauteous Off-spring crown thy Bed.
To her the King of VVinds made this Reply:
Immortal Queen, you can't more ready be
To speak your VVill, than I am to Obey.
This my Dominion is your Gift, to you
I this my Scepter and Joves Favour owe.
You first preferr'd me to the heav'nly Board,
And of these Storms and Tempests made me Lord.
71

Thus having said, with an impetuous Stroke
Of his inverted Spear he stoop'd the Rock:
Thro' the wide Breach the Winds their sally make,
And Land and Sea with dismal Tempests shake:
East, South, and rainy West together roar,
And roll vast Billows to th' affrighted Shore.
Then cracking Cables, and hoarse Seamens Cries
Mix woful Sounds, Despair is in the Noise.
The scowling Heav'ns in dusky Clouds are hid,
Thick Fogs the sight of Day and Heav'n forbid;
Darkness and Winds which on the Waters lay,
Increase the native Terror of the Sea.
Strong Thunder rocks the Poles, and thro' the Air
Brisk Lightning plays, and Death is ev'ry where.
Æneas trembles at this strange Surprize,
And lifting both his Hands to th' unseen Skies,
72

He thus complains: Oh! more than happy they,
Who, underneath the lofty Walls of Troy,
In their Friends Sight had the good Luck to die.
O Valiant Diomed, thy Nations pride!
Oh! that at Troy I by thy Hands had dy'd!
Why then was Death to hapless me deny'd?
VVhere Hector by Achilles fell, where brave
Sarpedon found an honourable Grave;
VVhere bloody Simois down to the Main
Swept Arms and Carcasses of Heroes slain.
Thus speaking, from the North an adverse Gust
Struck thwart his Sails, and Waves to Heav'n tost:
The Oars all broke, the shatter'd Bark gives way,
And drives at Mercy of the foaming Sea.
Some hang supported on a swelling Wave,
To some the gaping Waters shew their Grave;
Three Ships driv'n by the South on blind Rocks fall;
(Rocks Halt Sea o'er which Latines Aræ call)
73

Three, by an Eastern blast (Oh dismal Sight!)
Forc'd to the Shore, on shelves and quicksands light:
One, which the Lycians and Orontes bore
Before his Eyes, a mighty Sea breaks o'er
Her Poop, the waves from Helm the Master sweep
Headlong o'er Board, and thrice the reeling Ship
Whirls circling round, then sinks into the Deep:
Thin, sloating on the surface of the Sea
Arms, Men, and Planks, and Trojan Treasures lay.
And now the Ships, which other Leaders bore,
Resist the Fury of the Waves no more:
Their gaping Planks to Ruine open stood,
And treach'rous Leaks invite th' invading Flood.
Now Neptune heard the lab'ring Waves complain,
And felt the strong Convulsions of the Main:
Misgiving whence such Tumults should proceed,
Above the Deep he rais'd his welcome Head.
74

Opprest he sees the Trojan Navy lie
VVith Storms, and all the ruine of the Sky:
His Sisters Fraud and Malice soon he spy'd,
And summoning the Winds thus check'd their pride:
VVhence your Presumption? from your noble Race?
Base Fog-born Slaves! to vex Heav'n, Earth, and Seas,
And thus unbid disturb my Kingdom's Peace?
I'll—But the troubled Waters call me hence;
Expect worse Usage for your next Offence.
Go, get you hence, and tell your King, from me,
'Twas not his Lot, but mine to rule the Sea:
Let him to Rocks and Caves his Pow'r consine,
There let him strue, and in your Prisons reign.
Scarce had he spake; all calm the Waters lay,
The Clouds blew off, the Sun renews the Day;
Kind Nymphs and Tritons their Assistance give,
From pointed Rocks the found'ring Barks relieve.
75

Nor does the God his needful Aid deny,
Thro' unlock'd Sands he sets their Vessels free;
Calms all, and gently sports it o'er the quiet Sea.
As in large Towns, when Pop'lar rage runs high,
And all the Mob are up they know not why;
VVhen Club, and Fire the neighb'ring streets alarms,
And hasty Wrath turns ev'ry thing to Arms:
If then perchance a Patriot they spy,
Rever'd for Worth, and Deeds of Piety;
Straight all is husht, with prick'd up Ears they stand,
Yield to fair Words, and all in Peace disband.
So when great Neptune o'er the VVaters rode,
The Waves their Rage forgot, and own'd their God.
The weary Trojans straight look out for Land,
And for the nearest Shore of Affrick stand:
Behind an Island lies a quiet Bay,
Whose sides protect it from the VVind and Sea:
76

On either side of which vast Mountains rise,
And threaten with their Tops the neighb'ring Skies.
Low at the foot of these the silent Floods
Sleep undisturb'd; their Heads are crown'd with Woods:
And in their side a Grott, some Naiad's Throne,
In it fresh Springs, and seats of Native Stone.
Here weary Vessels ride secure from Fear,
Nor ask the Cable's, nor the Anchor's Care:
Hither Æneas, when the Storm expir'd,
VVith only sev'n of all his Fleet retir'd:
The Trojan Youth impatient leap to Land,
And rest their wearied Bodies on the Strand.
Here first Achates, with a mutual Stroke
Of Flints, the sleeping Seeds of Fire awoke;
And with dry Leafs, and tender Fuel nurst
The Infant Spark, till to a Flame it burst.
Their moist Provisions next to Land they bear,
And various Arts of Cookery prepare.
77

Mean while Æneas climb'd the Mountain's Head.
And the wide surface of the Deep survey'd;
If thence perhaps his wishing Eye might meet
Some wandring Remnant of his scatter'd Fleet:
No Sail in view; but on the Strand appear'd
Three Royal Stags, Chiefs of a num'rous Herd,
VVhich after their proud Leaders brouzing stray'd;
And spreading Droves along the Valley fed.
Here stepping back, with eager Hands he caught
His Bow and Shafts, which good Achates brought.
And first the Leaders, whose high Foreheads bore
Large Groves of Horn, fell bleeding on the Shore:
Then th' vulgar Herd, as thro' the Woods they fled,
By random Arrows undistinguish'd dy'd.
Still he pursu'd the easie Victory,
Till by his prudent Hand there slaughter'd lay;
Sev'n mighty Beasts, to ev'ry Crew a Prey.
78

Hence to the Port his welcome Game he bore,
And pierc'd rich Wines, which on Sicilia's Shore
Acestes, when he took his mournful Leave,
As his last Present to the Heroe gave.
The Dainties to his hungry Mates he shar'd,
And with these words their drooping spirits chear'd:
Ye dear Companions of my harsher days,
Expert in Suff'rings, practis'd in Distress,
Ye oft have weather'd greater storms than these;
Ye've seen the end of many a threat'ning Woe,
And these e're long shall have their Period too.
The Rocks of Scylla, and the Cyclop's Caves,
Dens of fierce Monsters these, those of fierce Waves,
Ye've past, that noble Spirit now resume,
By which your former Ills were overcome.
Perhaps ere long of these no more shall last,
Than sweet Remembrances of Dangers past.
79

These Toils and Hazards all to Latium lead,
There have the Fates our final Rest decreed;
And there shall Troy resume it's antient State:
Wisely reserve your selves for better Fate.
Thus did his words and looks false Passions shew,
Dissemled Hope sate smiling on his Brow,
But at his Heart Despair and secret Woe.
They to their Feast apply their only Care,
Some nimbly chase, and some break up the Deer;
Some spit th' yet panting Members; others raise
The weighty Cauldrons: some the Fire increase.
Then on the grassy Plain stretch'd at full length,
Fat Ven'son and old Wine repair their lessen'd strength.
Their Hunger eas'd, their Tables mov'd away,
Absent Companions their next Care employ:
80

Unknowing which to trust, their Hope or Fear;
Uncertain, if they yet breath upper Air,
Or dead refuse the Cries of mourning Friends to hear.
Chiefly Æneas does their Loss bewail.
Weeps o'er the Story of Orontes Fall;
And Lycus sad Mischance with Sighs repeats;
And Gyas and Cleanthus harder Fates.
VVhen Jove, as on Heav'ns Battlements he stood,
Th' inferiour World at one large Prospect view'd:
But with peculiar Care he fix'd his Eye
On Libyan Realms; while Schemes of Destiny
And providential Plots employ'd his Head:
Fair Venus, now by sorrow fairer made,
Thus to the God complain'd, and weeping said:
O thou, whose irresistible Decree
Aw'd by thy Thunder, Heav'n and Earth obey;
VVhat Crime so great could my Æneas do?
What mighty Guilt does Troy's last Hopes pursue
81

VVhy, after num'rous Deaths and long Distress,
Are they thus punish'd for Unhappiness?
VVhy, 'cause their promis'd Latium is deny'd,
Must they be barr'd from all the World beside?
For sure you promis'd, that Rome's pow'rful State
(When Time had ripen'd the Designs of Fate)
Should from my Trojans spring; from them should rise
Warriours renown'd, whose spreading Victories
Should grasp the farthest Lands and widest Main.
What, Father, what has alter'd your design?
'Twas with this hope, that future good should pay
For present Ill, I eas'd the Fall of Troy.
In vain! alas. The same hard Fates attend
Troys Relicks still. Ah! Soveraign Pow'r, what End,
What Respite, shall their growing Labours find?
82

Secure th' Illyrian Gulf Antenor past,
He deep into Liburnian Kingdoms prest;
And fierce Timavus to his Fountains trac'd;
VVhere roaring from nine Heads he sweeps his way
O'er delug'd Fields, himself almost a Sea:
Yet now the fair Patavia's Walls he rears,
The Place his Name and quiet Standards bears;
And he his peaceful Realms enjoys, nor future labour fears.
VVe, who deriv'd from Jove our Godhead boast,
Enjoy the Priviledge of being crost;
Of having Navies, having Kingdoms lost.
To ease her Spight—is this the huge Reward
Of Piety? thus are our Crowns restor'd?
With that calm Brow which surly Storms allays,
And looks the troubled Heav'ns into Peace,
The smiling God thus cas'd his Daughters Care:
Cease, Cytherea, cease your causeless Fear;
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Unmov'd remains your Trojans better Fate;
Lavinium's promis'd Walls and rising State
You soon shall see, and brave Æneas rang'd
VVith equal Gods, nor is my Purpose chang'd.
Yet, since so anxious, so importunate
Your Fears, attend, while I the Will of Fate
Abstruse, and dark Futurities relate.
A long and bloody, but successful, War
VVaits his Arrival on th' Italian Shore.
Till Victories his fatal Title show,
And barb'rous Nations to his Scepter bow;
Barb'rous, till he within just Bounds restrain
The savage Race, and break them into Men;
Giving them Walls and Laws; and awful grown,
Himself three years shall fill his setled Throne.
But young Ascanius, call'd Iulus now,
(Ilus his Name, till ruin'd Ilium grew
A sad Remembrance, and a Name of Woe
84

Ascanius shall the fatal Scepter hold,
Till thirty years have round their Axles roll'd:
But from Lavinium t' Alba shall transfer
His Court, and fix the seat of Empire there;
There Monarchs sprung from Troys immortal Line,
Shall full three hundred years unquestion'd reign.
Till Royal Ilia to the God of War
Shall at one happy Birth twin Heroes bear.
Thence Romulus, proud of that Skin which clad
His Foster-wolf, shall to the Throne succeed:
He shall new Walls and a large City rear,
They Romans call'd their founder's Name shall bear.
To them eternal Empire I allow,
Nor Bounds, nor End shall their Dominion know.
Juno her self, who now with causeless Rage
Does in her Quarrel Heav'n and Earth engage,
Shall then to better Resolutions come,
And joyn'd with me promote the Cause of Rome.
85

So 'tis Resolv'd:—
And Years to come shall see the Sons of Troy
O'er Argian Realms their conqu'ring Arms display,
And to the Greeks their old Indignities repay:
Hence Cæsar sprung shall raise the Trojan Name,
The Sea shall bound his Empire, Heav'n his Fame.
Him from Iulus, both in Name and Blood
Descended, after th' Eastern Realms subdu'd,
Glutted with Spoils, secure thou shalt receive;
To him Divinity and Heav'n I give;
With Deity his Earthly Honours crown,
And frequent Vot'ries shall his Godhead own.
Then thro' the World shall Wars and Discord cease.
And milder Times shall learn the Arts of Peace;
Then Rev'rend Truth and Piety shall reign,
Nor Brother be by jealous Brother slain;
86

Then pious Hands shall close the Gates of War;
VVithin imprison'd Rage shall sit and roar,
Bound down with brazen Cords, he there in vain
Shall foam black Blood, and champ upon his Chain.
He said, and down from Heav'n's unmeasur'd height,
He bids the Son of Maja take his Flight;
Down to the Court of Carthage, to prepare
The wand'ring Trojans kind Reception there:
Lest Dido ignorant of Heav'ns Decree,
The freedom of her Infant State deny.
He thro' the vast Expanse shot quickly down,
Till Libya stop'd his Flight: his Message done
As Jove had will'd: the Tyrians soon forget
Their native Roughness and inclement Heat:
But softest Passions Dido's tender Breast
And Fondness unaccountable possest.
87

But good Æneas, all the sleepless Night
Revolving various Cares, with the first Light
Resolv'd to rise, and search what unknown Coasts,
VVhat Land he ow'd the Winds; if Men or Beasts
(For all around he sees untill'd and bare)
The Tenants of those Desart Regions were.
Beneath an hanging Rock, whose thickest Woods
Drop'd a brown Darkness on the silent Floods,
His Fleet he shelter'd, and his Fortune try'd,
Two Jav'lins in his Hand, Achates by his side.
As thro' the Woods they pass, he near him sees
His Goddess mother shining thro' the Trees;
Like some brisk Spartan Maid in Garb and Face;
Or fierce Harpalyce on the Hills of Thrace:
When she upbraids in slight th' unequal Speed
Of Coursers swift, and Heber's rapid Tide:
Fix'd cross her Shoulders hung a decent Bow,
Her Robes close girt, but loose her Tresses slow,
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The sport of Winds. Hoa! gentle Youths, said she,
Saw ye my Sister Huntresses this way?
VVith Lynxes Skins and Quivers by their side,
Eager in Chase? When thus her Son reply'd:
No Nymph, but you, has bless'd mine Ear or Eye;
None, but you, fair unknown!—What shall I say?
Fair unknown Goddess! for alass in vain
Disguis'd a false Mortality you feign;
You're all Divine, that charming Voice and Eye
In spight of you confess your Deity:
Diana or some Nymph! what e're you are,
Only be kind and ease a Stranger's Care;
By stormy Winds on this strange Country thrown,
The Place and People equally unknown:
What Clime? what Land? instruct us, Heav'nly Maid,
Our grateful Vows shall own the pious Deed;
And thousand Victims on your Altars bleed.
89

Alass! said she, in vain you thus abuse
Great Names and Titles which I must refuse;
This Quiver and these Buskins, which I wear,
Speak me a Tyrian Virgin and no more:
It is our Country Garb; our Country this;
Here Tyrian Exiles a new Empire raise.
But all around it Libyan Kingdoms are,
Stern Nations and unfoilable in War.
Dido a Tyrian Princess sways the State,
Forc'd from her Native Home by unjust Hate,
A cruel Brother's unjust Hate; too long
And intricate the story of her Wrong.
But thus in short: Sychæus was her Lord,
By her with great but hapless Love ador'd;
Him did her Sire with her first Nuptials bless,
Great was his Wealth, nor was her Passion less:
But her base Brother rul'd the Tyrian State,
Pygmalion in Guilt, as Empire, great;
90

Of all, whom Hell with blackest Villanies
Inspir'd, supreme, and eminent in Vice.
He, blind with Passion and the Thirst of Oar,
Fearless Sychæus in a secret hour
Kneeling before the Altars of his God
Surpriz'd, and stain'd the sacred Floor with Blood:
Nor could the Altars, nor could Nature move
His Pity, nor his wretched Sisters Love.
Long he with artful Lies conceal'd the Deed,
And with vain Hopes th' impatient Lover fed:
Till, in a Dream before her slumb'ring Eyes,
She saw her murder'd Husband's Image rise
All ghastly pale; he shew'd his wounded Breast,
And the black Deed, and the black Scene confest.
Then he persuades her instantly to fly
The guilty Shore; and to assist her way,
Shews where a Nest of hidden Treasures lay.
91

Convinc'd of all the Vision had declar'd,
She Means and Partners of her Flight prepar'd.
All Male-contents in her Design engage,
All who had felt or fear'd the Tyrants Rage;
Some Ships, which ready in the Harbour lay,
They seize, and thither all their Wealth convey:
Away the Waves Pygmalion's Treasure bring;
A Woman disappoints the greedy King.
Hither where now new Walls and Towr's you'll see,
Hither they came, here as much Land they buy,
As they could compass with an Oxe's Hide,
And call'd it Byrsa from the crafty Deed
If this Relation has oblig'd your Ear,
Requite it by declaring who you are,
And from what Land you come, and for what Land you steer.
Æneas then sigh'd out this sad Reply
To what she ask'd; Divinest Pow'r, should I
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Begin the Story of our Woes, and you
VVould have the patience to hear it thro';
The Sun would not: the Day it self would fail,
And half unfinish'd leave the mournful Tale.
VVe from old Troy's unhappy Ruines came,
(If your Ears are not Strangers to that Name)
But now thro' all the spreading Ocean tost,
A Tempest threw us on the Libyan Coast:
And I the good Æneas am, a Name
Perhaps not utterly unknown to Fame:
'Twas I who rescu'd from th' insulting Foe
My Houshold Goods, now Part'ners of my Woe;
I, for the Shore of Italy design,
And Jove I boast the Author of my Line:
VVith twice ten Sail I stem'd the Phrygian Tide,
Fate and my Goddess mother were my Guide;
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Now all but sev'n by Storms are lost, and I
Helpless, unknown, thro' Libyan Desarts stray,
By Wars from Asia torn, from Europe by the Sea.
Venus, who could his Plaint no longer hear,
Thus interrupts his Grief: Who e're you are,
I dare believe the Gods, whose Providence
Directed you to Carthage, are your Friends:
Thither proceed, and to asswage your Care,
Prepare to meet your lost Companions there;
There (if there's any Faith in Augury)
Your Friends and Vessels both in Safety lie.
See those twelve Swans! how careless now they rove
Thro' open Air! whom erst the Bird of Jove.
Stooping from his Ethereal Perch on high,
Pursu'd, and drove them trembling thro' the Sky:
But now secure and proud of their Escape,
Some pitching ease their Wings; some idly sweep
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The Earth; then mount, and wanton thro' the Sky
On whistling Wings, and loudly sing their Joy.
Thus all your Vessels and the Trojan Youth
Or bear full Sail into the Harbours mouth;
Or safe at Anchor ride: Do you proceed.
And let the way before you be your Guide.
At that she turn'd, and round her, as she goes,
Strange Charms and unexpected Beauties rose;
Ambrosial Odours streaming from her Hair
Divinely sweet enrich'd the ambient Air.
Down fell her Robes into a graceful Train,
And her Majestick Walk own'd her Divine.
He, when he thus his Mother's Form descry'd,
VVith these Complaints pursu'd her as she fled:
And are you too, and are you cruel grown?
VVhy all these false Delusions to your Son?
Why none but Shapes assum'd, and Speeches not your own?
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He said: but as they to the Town proceed,
Round them a misty Veil the Goddess spread,
Of Air condens'd and thickest Vapors made:
That they might pass secure, by mortal Eye
Unseen, and unmolested in their way.
Back flies the smiling Goddess thro' the Sky
To Paphian Courts, where, to her Deity,
Soft Youth their am'rous sighs and Off'rings pay:
Sabæan Spice an hundred Altars glows,
And flow'ry Wreaths perfume the sacred House.
They with Direction of the Path march'd on,
And climb'd the Hill, whose jetting Front looks down
On the high Turrets, and nods o'er the Town
Æneas the vast Piles with Wonder view'd,
Rising where once a few poor Lodges stood;
Admiring the strong Gates abd Reg'lar Ways,
And all the busie Hurry of the place.
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The eager Tyrians various Works divide,
Some with the Care of raising Walls employ'd;
Some frame the Cittadel; some trace the Plow,
VVhere private Buildings are design'd to grow.
These fit Materials provide; and those,
Laws, Magistrates and a grave Senate chuse:
Here a capacious Haven they prepare;
And there they promise a large Theatre:
Vast Pillars from Earth's rocky Entrails wrought,
The Pride of future Scenes, are thither brought.
VVith Toil like this, while yet the Summer's new,
Industrious Bees their annual Tasks pursue:
VVhen youthful Swarms repair the faling Kind;
Or when their liquid Sweets they firmer bind:
Or in full Cells their yellow Nectar stow:
Or forth to meet their weary Brethren go:
Or when, in firm Battalion rang'd, they drive
The lazy Drones and Robbers from their Hive:
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And loud they Hum, and hot the Bustle grows,
And all around a fragrant Odour flows.
O happy Men whose Walls already rise!
VVhile he the City's growing Height surveys,
Said the brave Prince; and in dark Mantle hid,
Thro' swarming Crowds he goes, by none descry'd.
VVithin the City stood a shady Grove,
Where first, when storms to land the Tyrians drove;
Digging, the fatal Horse's Head they met,
VVhich Juno had foreshewn, a Sign the State
Should prove renown'd in War, in Plenty great.
Here did the Queen a stately Temple frame,
Stupendous Work, to Juno's awful Name:
Rich Offerings and wealthy Zealots Vows,
And her immediate Presence grac'd the House;
On Brazen steps the lofty Entrance rose:
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VVith Brass the Beams were strengthen'd and enrich'd,
And brazen Gates on brazen Hinges scriech'd.
Here first an unexpected Sight reliev'd
Æneas Fears, and his faint Hopes reviv'd.
For while he there expecting Dido stays,
And the Condition of the Place surveys;
Admiring all that skilful Hands had done,
The State and Artful Beauties of the Town;
He spies the Siege of Troy, those angry Wars
Already famous thro' the Universe:
The adverse Monarchs, with their sighting Youth,
And stern Achilles equal Foe to both.
He stood, and weeping thus bespoke his Friend;
VVhat place, Achates, what so distant Land,
VVhich has not heard our Woes? see Priam there!
See! Vertue has its Honours even here;
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Ev'n here our Mis'ry due Compassion finds,
Human Misfortunes work on human Minds.
Then fear not: they who to our Suff'rings give
So just Regard, the Suff'rers will relieve.
He said, and fed his Soul on th' empty piece,
While from his troubled Breast strong Sighs arise;
And Floods of Tears fall streaming from his Eyes.
For there the Tides and Ebbs of War he saw,
Saw the prevailing Trojans there pursue
The flying Greeks; the Trojans flying here,
And fierce Achilles hanging on the Rear:
Next the white Tents of Rhesus he beheld,
Which while first sleep the weary Thracians held,
Tydides entred, and with slaughter fill'd;
And seiz'd the fiery Horses ere they came
To tast Troy's Food, or drink of Xanthus stream:
There Troilus disarm'd his Horses drew,
VVhom Chance of Battle on Achilles threw.
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Unequal Match!—
Down from his empty Seat he hung supine,
Yet his clench'd Hand still grasp'd the useless Rein;
His beauteous Head seem'd o'er the Stones to bound,
The Spear inverted scrawl'd the dusty Ground.
There went the Trojan Dames in mournful State,
T'avert with Off'rings fierce Minerva's Hate;
With Hair unfurl'd, each smote her tender Breast,
And all the Pomp of solemn Grief exprest;
The sullen Goddess yet disdains their Vows
VVith down-cast Eyes, nor one kind Look allows.
Thrice had Achilles round the Trojan Walls
Dead Hector drag'd, and now his Carcase sells.
But then deep Sighs his troubled Bosom rend,
To see the sad Dishonours of his Friend;
The Spoils, the Chariot, and on bended Knee
Old Priam beg the wretched Courtesie.
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Himself engag'd with Grecian Chiefs he spy'd,
And Eastern Bands by swarthy Memnon led.
And there the fierce Penthesilea leads,
Through adverse Troops, her Amazonian Maids:
Girds up her Breast, her horned Buckler takes,
Thro' yielding Men her Conq'ring way she makes,
And scorns the Disadvantage of her Sex.
While this surprizing Piece the Prince survey'd,
And this one Object fixt his Soul employ'd;
Attended with a num'rous youthful Train,
Up to the Temple mov'd the beauteous Queen.
Such as Diana on the flow'ry Mead
VVhere cool Eurotas flows, or Cynthus Head;
VVhen she leads forth her Virgin Train to dance,
In num'rous steps a thousand Nymphs advance:
She round her Neck her ratling Quiver bears,
And the Majestick Goddess still appears,
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In graceful Motion high above the rest;
A secret Joy tickles Latona's Breast.
Such Dido was, so beautiful, so pleas'd,
She thro' thick Crouds of busie Tyrians past;
And still their Labour urg'd, and still improv'd their Hast.
Thence to the Temple, where she proudly sate,
Supported on the lofty Throne of State;
And round with Guards and Loyal Subjects fenc'd,
The righteous Laws and equal Tasks dispenc'd.
VVhen thro' a gaping Crowd Æneas sees
His lost Companions making to the Place:
VVhom far dispers'd, on Mists and Darkness lost;
The lowring Storms on distant Shores had tost.
He and Achates both astonish'd were,
Distracted equally 'twixt Joy and Fear;
Their despair'd Friends fill them with eager Joy:
But yet unknowing what their Case might be,
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They in the Clouds dark Womb conceal'd remain,
Till their Friends Fortune should it self explain.
At length they free Access and Audience gain'd;
VVhen calmly thus Ilioneus complain'd;
Great Queen, whose rising Walls kind Gods allow,
To whose Command these haughty Nations bow:
VVe the unhappy Residue of Troy,
By adverse Winds long driven o'er the Sea,
Do here your Justice and Protection crave;
From Ruine undeserv'd our Vessels save;
Spare Innocence, Ah! spare a pious Race;
And hear, and hearing pity our Distress.
VVe came not to invade your rising State;
Our humbled Fortunes no such Thoughts admit.
A Place there is by Greeks Hesperia nam'd,
An ancient Land, for War and Plenty fam'd;
Oenotrians heretofore the Kingdom held:
But now, 'tis said, from some great Gen'ral call'd
104

Italia. Thither was our Course design'd,
VVhen hidden Tempests and a wanton Wind
Thro' Waves, o'er Rocks, and Shelves, our Navy tost;
Of which some few came floating on your Coast.
But to the Scandal of Humanity,
Your Guards the Refuge of your Shore deny:
And threaten Fire and Sword, and needless War,
If any durst attempt their landing there.
If ye Mankind and mortal Pow'r defie,
Yet shall just Gods revenge such Injury.
Æneas was our King, ------
Than whom none e'er could boast a greater Share
Of all that's gen'rous, both in Peace and War;
Oh! If kind Fates but that dear Mortal spare!
Oh if he live, and yet breath upper Air,
Farewel our Fears and yours: none shall complain
They e'er oblig'd a Trojan Prince in vain.
105

Beside Acestes and the Sons of Troy
Enjoy the Realms and Pow'r of Sicily.
VVe only beg Permission to refit
VVithin your Ports the Ruines of our Fleet:
And then, if Heav'n our Mates and Prince restore,
VVe'll ease your Realms, and seek the Latin Shore:
But if hard Fates that great Design forbid,
If thou, brave Prince, in Libyan Seas art dead;
And all our Hopes of young Ascanius sled:
At least to Sicily our Course we'll steer,
And to Acestes surer Realms retire.
Thus spoke Ilioneus, and all the rest
Bow'd, and in Murmurs their Consent exprest.
To whom the Queen return'd this short Reply:
Far be your Jealousie, ye Sons of Troy,
The Rawness of our Realms and daily Fear
Demand our strongest Guards and strictest Care.
106

VVho but the Trojan Race, their high Renown,
Their daring Champions, and fierce Wars have known?
Such stupid Hearts we Tyrians do not bear,
Nor is the Sun so great a Stranger here.
If for th' Hesperian Realms ye are design'd,
Or for the Shore of Sicily intend,
Be sure of all th' Assistance we can lend:
Or if my Kingdoms and this rising Town
Have ought to tempt your stay, 'tis all your own:
Trojans and Tyrians shall one People be,
Equal, and equally belov'd by me.
And I could wish the same kind Storm had tost
Your Prince, the brave Æneas, on this Coast:
Nay; I will send and search, if haply he
Lost in thick Woods, or some blind Village stray.
107

At this news Joy and lively Hopes possest
Æneas and Achates doubtful Breast;
Now eager to disband their useless Mist.
VVhen thus Achates to the Prince began:
Great Son of Venus, now what Doubts remain?
No more of Danger now, of Fear no more,
Since kinder Gods your Fleet and Friends restore,
All but that one, who perish'd in our View;
In all the rest your Mother's Words are true.
Scarce had he spoke: when off the Vapours clear,
The Clouds disband, and purge themselves to Air:
There circled round with Light Æneas stood,
His Shape and Feature like some beauteous God:
For round him all her Charms his Mother threw,
Beauty and blushing Youth bloom'd on his Brow;
Such Grace the Artist's hand to Iv'ry lends,
So with pale Silver, Gold its florid Yellow blends.
108

VVhen he with Words th' Assembly and Queen
Surpriz'd, and unexpected thus began:
See! to prevent your Search, and ease your Fear,
See! that Æneas whom you seek is here.
To you, what Thanks sufficient can we pay,
Great Queen, the only Friend of ruin'd Troy?
VVho us, its hapless Remnant, whom the Sword
Of Grecian Foes almost in vain had spar'd,
Distress'd by Sea and Land, forelorn and Poor,
Here to new Homes, and other Realms restore:
Nor we, nor all the scatter'd Race of Troy,
Can e'er return this Royal Courtesie.
No! may the Gods, and sure if Gods there are,
VVho of the Good and Innocent take care;
It Justice, Conscience, ought but Phantoms be;
The Debts which we cannot They will repay.
VVhat more than Mortal Parents could bestow
On this blest Age such Worth as shines in you?
109

For me, while Rivers to the Ocean flow,
VVhile rising Mountains shade the Vales below;
VVhile Stars feed round the Pole; your Memory
And Name, whatever Land my Portion be,
Shall still be honour'd, still be dear to me.
He said: and then in close Embraces meets
His welcome Friends, and each in order greets.
Dido surpriz'd, with what her self had seen,
And the unusual Fortune of the Man,
Long silent stood; at length she thus began:
What Fate unkind, brave Prince, thro' much distress,
Pursues and drives you to this barb'rous Place?
Are you th' Æneas, whom on Simois Shore
Kind Venus to her dear Anchises bore?
Nay, and I well remember, when for Aid
Teucer expell'd from Home to Sidon fled;
110

To make his Fortune on some foreign Coast,
And gain new Kingdoms since his own were lost.
Cyprus for him my Father Belus took,
And made it bow beneath his Conq'ring Yoke:
E'er since have I the Trojan Story known;
The Names of Grecian Leaders, and your own.
Himself to Trojan Foes just Praise allow'd;
Himself he boasted sprang from Trojan Blood.
Come then, my welcome Youths, kindly receive
Such Entertainment as my Court can give.
I too, before I setled here my Throne,
Have like Severities of Fortune known;
And, by the Sense of my own Suff'rings taught
Have learn'd to pity the Unfortunate.
Thus she: and in she leads her Trojan Guest,
And to the Gods proclaims a solemn Feast:
But, not unmindful of their absent Friends,
Twenty large Oxen to the Port she sends;
111

The bristly Flitches of an hundred Sows;
An hundred fat Lambs, with an hundred Ewes.
Mean while the Rooms of State their Pride display;
And all the Pomp of Royal Luxury.
The well-wrought Furniture with Purple shone,
VVith massy Plate the burthen'd Tables groan:
And labour'd Gold in lively Portraiture,
Heroick Acts of great Forefathers bore;
A tedious Chronicle of Deeds and Men,
From him who first the noble Race began.
Æneas still remains dissatisfy'd,
Doubts from paternal Love his Ease forbid:
All's vain if his Ascanius be not there,
Ascanius the fond Parent's only Care.
Away he sends Achates, to the Port,
To bear the News and bring the Lad to Court;
Bids him withal such Presents bring, as he
Had snatch'd from Ruin and the Flames of Troy:
112

The Gown and flower'd Veil, which Helen clad,
VVhen she to Troy and guilty Nuptials fled;
The Scepter of Ilione; her Crown,
And Neck-lace, which with richest Jewels shone;
Presents not mean, With these Instructions sent,
Away Achates to the Navy went.
But Cytherea in her thoughtful Mind,
New Counsels fram'd, and other Arts design'd;
That Cupid should Ascanius Shape assume,
And in his stead disguis'd to Carthage come;
And th' heedless Queen with treach'rous Presents move,
And her fond Heart inspire with secret Love:
For still the Faithless Tyrians cause her fear,
Still she suspects their doubtful Safety there:
Malicious Juno wrings her jealous Breast,
Black Dreams and frightful Starts disturb her Rest.
113

Uneasie therefore to the Tent she fled
Of winged Love, and thus implor'd his Aid:
My Son, my Strength, my Empire's only Stay,
Who dar'st thy Fathers angry Bolts defie;
I for assistance to thy Godhead fly.
What Storms at Sea, what Miseries at Land,
Thy Brother, my Æneas has sustain'd;
How he has felt th' effects of Juno's Spleen,
Too well thou know'st; and oft thy self hast been
Griev'd at his Wrongs, and mix'd thy Tears with mine.
Phenician Dido with a specious shew
Of Kindness and fair Words detains him now:
But still I fear some secret Danger nigh
VVhen Juno entertains the Sons of Troy;
Her watchful Malice will not let her miss
An Opportunity so great as this.
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Therefore my Fears bid me prevent with Art
The Queen, and place thee Guardian of her Heart;
Lest any Pow'r corrupt to worse Design
Her Will, for my Æneas may she pine,
And love him with a Passion great as mine.
So I've resolv'd, nor are the Means unknown;
The Royal Youth, who my chief Care is grown,
Obeys his Father's Summons to the Town:
And with him Presents bears, which still remain
Sav'd from Troy's Flames and th' fury of the Main.
Him will I folded in the Arms of Sleep
On high Cythera or Idalia keep;
Lest close Restraint disturb his jealous Thought,
Or intervening crush th' abortive Plot.
Do thou one Night disguis'd like him appear,
One Night his Shape and well known Features wear:
115

So when the Queen, softned with Royal Feasts
And freer Wine, shall clasp thee to her Breasts,
And kiss thy lovely Cheek; do thou inspire
Thy pleasing Venom and unheeded Fire.
Obsequious Love his Mother's Will obeys,
Aside his Wings and Heav'nly Form he lays;
And counterfeits Iulus Pace and Tongue,
Pleas'd with the Change; and prattling trips along.
Venus mean while the true Ascanius kept
In pleasing Dreams and dewy Slumbers wrapt:
Lull'd in her Arms the Goddess bore away
To her Idalian Groves the sleeping Boy;
Where their delicious Breaths sweet Herbs and Flowrs
Round him exhale, and rise to shady Bow'rs.
But now, with Presents fraught, the Heav'nly Boy
Pleas'd with his Guide, to Carthage makes his way.
When he arriv'd, the Queen strait took her Seat
I'th' midst, upon a golden Couch of State;
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Round her Æneas and the Youth of Troy
In order all on Purple Carpets lay:
The Servants Water brought, and plac'd the Bread,
And well-wrought Napkins round the Tables laid:
VVithin did fifty Damsels neatly drest
Manage the State and Order of the Feast:
An hundred, with as many Pages joyn'd
Of equal Years, round the large Boards attend.
The Tyrians too, in swarms to Court repair,
And th' Publick Mirth and Entertainment share;
The Presents all admire, admire the Lad;
The God's fresh Looks, and counterfeited Chat.
But hapless Dido, doom'd to future Woes,
No End, no Measure of her Fondness knows;
Gazes, and ever gazing Fonder grows:
The Boy and Gifts her Admiration move
Alike, and both alike provoke her Love.
117

He having long on his false Father hung
And eas'd his Soul, away to Dido sprung.
Her Eyes, her Heart dwell setled on the Boy,
And oft she dandles him upon her Knee;
Nor knows what Weight she bears of Deity.
He mindful of his Mother's Charge soon ras'd
All Thoughts of dead Sicheus from her Breast:
Then with new lively Passion strives to move
Her listless Heart, and long unus'd to Love.
Soon as the Edge of Appetite was laid,
The Boards were clear'd, and full crown'd Bowls succeed.
The Ecchoing Courts around divide the Joy:
And loud Huzza's through all the Palace sly.
Lamps hanging from high Roofs dart vig'rous Light,
And drive far off the heavy Shades of Night.
Here did the Queen for that rich Goblet call,
In which Old Belus us'd to drink, and all
118

From Belus down to her: Then, Silence made,
Dido the Goblet took, and thus she pray'd;
Grant mighty Jove, (for thou, the Strangers Friend,
Giv'st Laws of Hospitality to Men;)
Grant, that thro' all succeeding Times, this Day
May both to Trojans and to Tyrians be
A Day of Mirth, and glad Solemnity;
Juno and Bacchus smile upon our Feast,
The Gods be kind, and ye my Tyrians pleas'd.
Then on the Board she spill'd a sacred Drop;
Her self scarce kiss'd the Lips of the wide Cup,
And smacking gav't to Bitias: but he
At one large Draught took down the frothy Sea.
Round went the Bowl; while curl'd Iopas strung
His golden Harp, and Works of Nature sung,
By Atlas taught: th' Excursions of the Moon,
And never ceasing Labours of the Sun;
119

Whence Men and Beasts, Thunder and Rain proceed;
How Stars by Night their reg'lar Mazes tread;
VVhat makes the Winter Sun so hasty go
Down to the Sea; what makes the Nights so slow.
Tyrians and Trojans equally combine
To praise the Song, and loud Applauses joyn.
But the fond Queen with various Discourse,
And needless Queries still protracts the Hours.
And long Occasions of Love she takes,
Vain Doubts of Priam and of Hector makes;
Enquiring oft what Armour Memnon wore;
And oft what part the fierce Achilles bore.
Nay come, says she, dear Guest, begin and tell
The Grecian Treach'ry, Troy's unhappy Fall,
And your own Travels: for sev'n times the Sun
Has brought back Summer, since your Toils begun.
120

Part of the Second Book.

All husht and mute with Expectation fate,
When thus Æneas from his Throne began:
Sad is the Task, great Queen, which you enjoyn,
Our Suff'rings to repeat: how wretched Troy,
It's Pow'r and Wealth, by Cruel Greeks were spoil'd;
And all the dismal Things I saw, of them
My self no inconsiderable Part.
VVho the most savage of our Enemies;
What hardy Soldier from Ulysses Camp
Could without Tears such Miseries relate?
And now the dewy Wheels of Night hast down.
The Western Steep of Heav'n, and falling Stars;
121

Rather to Sleep and needful Rest advise:
But if so great your Curiosity,
To learn our Fortunes, and Troy's last sad Hour;
Tho' my Soul at the black Remembrance start,
With Grief recoiling; yet I will begin.
By Fate and Pow'r repell'd the Grecian Chiefs,
After so many Years successless War,
Contrive a mighty Horse of Mountain bulk,
By curious Architecture fram'd, and fenc'd
With Planks his wooden Ribs; pretending it
A Vow for their Return; so 'twas given out;
But in his darksom Entrails secretly
They stow'd the Flow'r of their remaining Troops
And fill with Arms and Men his hollow Womb.
In Sight lies Ienedos, an Isle Renown'd,
Renown'd for Wealth, while Priam's Empire stood;
Now only a small Creek, and dang'rous Road:
Hither the Grecian Fleet retir'd from sight
122

Behind the Rocks and unfrequented Shore;
We thought them fail'd directly back for Greece.
Troy therefore soon forgot her long Distress,
Open were slung the Gates; and pleasant 'twas
To view the Grecian Camp, the Country clear'd,
And the abandon'd Shore. Here lay the Band
Of Dolopes: there stern Achilles march'd;
Here rode the Fleet: there were fierce Battels joyn'd.
Most had their Eyes with Admiration fix'd
On Pallas bulky Gift, their future Ruine.
And first Thymætes, whether mov'd by Fate
Or Treachery, advis'd it to be brought
Within the City, and plac'd in the Tow'r.
But Capys, and the wiser Heads persuade
To drown or burn the Greeks suspicious Gift:
Or bore and wisely search its hollow Womb.
The doubtful Vulgar various Thoughts divide;
There first Laocoon with angry Hast
123

From the high Tower, with a num'rous Train,
Runs foaming down, and bellows from afar:
What Frenzy thus misleads my Countrymen?
Do ye believe our Foes thus tamely gone?
Or do ye think Greek Gifts can want Design?
And is Ulysses yet no better known?
Either this treach'rous Wood is lin'd with Greeks
Or 'tis an Engine fram'd against our Wails,
To scale our Works and overlook the Town:
Or 'tis some sly Design; whate'er it be,
I dread the very Kindness of the Greeks
He said; and with full strength his Jav'lin whirl'd
Against the Horses side; that trembling stood;
And strait a grumbling Sound follow'd the stroke,
And from it's hollow Entrails came a Groan.
Then had not Fate arm'd all our Thoughts askew;
The Greeks had dy'd, in their own Ambush caught;
And Troy and Priam's Court had still remain'd.
124

Part of the Third Book.

Since it so pleas'd the Gods our Asian State
And Priam's guiltless Nation must be lost;
Since haughty Ilium was now no more,
And Neptune's Work lay smoaking on the ground:
We by the Oracles of Gods are urg'd
To leave our Native Lands, and seek new Homes:
Under Antandros, at the foot of Ide,
VVe build a Fleet, (unknowing whither Fate
Would call, or where we might expect to rest)
And raise what Force we could; Summer scarce peep'd,
When by my aged Father we are bid
To hoise, and trust our Sails to Providence.
125

Weeping I bid my Native Shores adieu,
The Phrygian Ports, and Fields where Troy once stood;
By Fate an Exile forc'd I to the Waves
My Self, my Friends, my Son, and Gods commit.
Far hence there lies a Land, by Thracians till'd,
Where in times past severe Lycurgus reign'd;
In amicable League Allied to Troy
While Troy its Grandeur held; here in ill Hour
I first touch'd Land, and on the crooked Shore
Rais'd my first Walls, and gave it mine own Name:
Here to my Mother sacred Rites I paid,
And to the Gods who favour'd my Design;
To Jove a Milk-white Bull bled on the Shore.
Fast by there rose a little Hill, thick stuck
With Shrubs and Myrtle Spears. I went, and strove
To ravish from it's Earth the sprouting Grove,
To shade my Altars with it's leafy Boughs;
When a strange Prodigy surpriz'd my Sight:
126

For the first Tree, which from the Earth I forc'd,
From his torn Roots trickled black Drops of Blood,
And stain'd the Ground with Gore: a shiv'ring Fear
Shot thro' my Veins, and curdled all my Blood.
Desirous yet to learn the secret Cause
Of an Effect so strange, a second Twig
I pluck'd, and from a second Twig drop'd Blood:
Amaz'd, and troubled to the Nymphs I kneel'd,
And Mars, the Guardian of those Lands, besought
The Omen to avert, and turn 't to good.
But while I fix'd my Knees to ground, and strove
With all my strength from Earth to pluck a third;
(Shall I proceed, or leave the rest untold?)
Deep from the Earth there came a mournful groan,
And a sad Voice thus speaking reach'd my Ears:
Forbear, Æneas, to torment the dead;
Stain not with Cruelty thy Righteous Hands.
127

That which thou now behold'st drop from these Trees
Is Trojan Blood and near Ally'd to thine;
Oh! fly this cruel Land, this greedy Shore.
For I am Polydore; a Grove of Spears
Here slew, and cover'd me; and in my Flesh
Fixing their Iron Heads, took Root and grew.
Then new Amazement seiz'd my doubtful Mind,
My Hair stood upright, and Fear cramp'd my Tongue.
This Polydore unhappy Priam sent
VVith mighty Treasure to the Thracian King;
VVhen he began to doubt the Fate of Troy,
And saw his Walls girt with a threat'ning Siege.
He, when he saw the Trojan Pow'r decay,
Took Fortune's part, and with the Conqu'ror joyn'd
Forgot all Right; young Polydore he slew,
And by unjust Violence his Treasure seiz'd.
O Gold! how do's the curst Desire of thee
VVork irresistibly on mortal Hearts!
128

At length, recovering from deep Amaze,
I to my Chieftains, and my Father first
Disclose the Prodigies, and ask their Thoughts;
Unanimous they all agree to leave
The treach'rous unhospitable Shore.
To Polydore we Fun'ral Rites perform'd,
Made him a Tomb of Earth, and Altars rais'd
To the infernal Pow'rs, with Purple Fillets
And Cypress Garlands mournfully adorn'd.
VVith Hair dishevel'd stood the Trojan Dames:
Bowls frothing with warm Milk and hallow'd Gore
VVe sacrifice; and to the quiet Grave
Commit his Ghost, and hail him off to Rest.
129

Part of the Fourth Book.

Already was the Queen struck deep with Love,
The sly Disease creeps circling round her Veins;
And secret Flames within prey on her Heart:
The Hero's Vertue, and his Country's Fame
Are the perpetual Objects of her Thought:
Still present she beholds his Charming Face,
His charming Voice still Ecchoes in her Ears,
By careful Love, kept waking all the Night.
Now had next morning Sun with radiant Light
Gilded the East, and dewy Night dispell'd;
When to her Sister thus distracted she
Unfolds her secret Grief: Ah! dearest Ann,
What mean these troubled thoughts which break my nights,
And to my weary Eye-lids grant no rest?
What noble Stranger do we entertain!
How charming are his Looks! how brave his Soul!
VVell! I believe (and justly I believe)
130

That he indeed is sprung of Race Divine.
Base low-born Souls are by their Fear betray'd:
VVhat Shocks of adverse Fortune bravely born,
VVhat hard Exploits of War did he relate!
VVere not my Soul unalterably fix'd,
No more to link my self in Nuptial Bands,
Since my first Love by Death was disappointed;
Did I not hate the name of Love and Wedlock,
To this one Fault perhaps I could submit:
For I must own, since poor Sichæus dy'd,
And stain'd with Blood his Brother's guilty Walls,
None e'er so far inclin'd my Soul to Love:
Nor were my Resolutions e'er so shock'd;
I feel my former Flame returning strong.
But may the yawning Earth first swallow me;
Or Thunder strike me to the Shades below,
Pale Shades of Erebus, and Night profound,
E'er I the Laws of Chastity transgress:
131

No; he who first my Vows and Heart engag'd,
He bore away my Love to his cold Grave;
There let it lie buried with him for ever.
Thus said she mournful, and with show'rs of Tears,
Water'd her Bosom; when thus Ann replies:
O dearer to thy Sister than this Light,
Why will you lose the pretious Bloom of Youth
In solitary Grief? nor know the Joys
Of pretty Babes, and all the Sweets of Love?
Think you cold Ashes and departed Souls
Regard such Matter? or, suppose they do,
He cannot think you easie, who so long
Remain'd irreconcileable to Love:
Nor could Iarbas, nor what other Chiefs
Victorious Affrick breeds, acceptance find.
And will you still resist the Charms of Love?
Regard at least the Dangers of your State;
On every side by warlike Neighbours girt.
132

Here fierce Getulians spread their Conqu'ring Arms,
And wild Numidians: there a Desart wide,
And the far ravaging Darceans lie.
What need I mind you of your Brother's Threats,
And Wars prepar'd to follow us from Tyre?
To me the Trojans seem by Heaven sent
And Juno's friendly Care to be our Guard.
Strengthen'd by such Alliance how shall we
Advance your growing State! to what a height
Of Glory shall you see your Carthage rise!
Only do you by Pray'r and Sacrifice
Propitiate Heav'n, then to your Guest be kind,
And frame Excuses for his longer stay;
The stormy Season, and tempestuous Stars,
His shatter'd Fleet, and the unruly Sky.
Thus she with Words fuel'd her am'rous Flame,
Wip'd off all Shame, and let her loose to Love.
133

CHRIST Born.

A Pastoral.

Attend, ye Shepherds, to my rural Song;
Rural, but sweet, and with high matter fraught
My Meditation, while full of Thought
From Fairfield's ever hospitable Seat;
Great in it self, but in it's Owners more.
(Swains must not flatter, but may give just Praise)
To aged Severn's rocky Shore I walk,
And roam the Fields, heedless of any Path.
For so I use, a poor contented Swain.
Sweet are the Fields to them who early walk,
And pleasant sounds from far the murm'ring Sea.
Attend, ye Shepherds, to my rural Song,
Safe are your Flocks; nor tedious is my Verse.
134

Disdaining humble Furzes and low Shrubs,
Fond Shepherds wanton Loves, and sordid Cares;
To higher Thoughts I tune my Past'ral Reed:
Such as Sicilian Muse of old ne'er joyn'd
To oaten Pipe; nor he who Mantua bred,
Nor could: tho' sweeter far his Lays than mine.
I the great Shepherd sing, whose wond'rous Birth
Angelic Quires to humble Shepherds sung.
An arduous, but not improper, Task,
Since all to Shepherds and their Flocks confin'd.
Attend ye Shepherds to my rural Song,
Safe are your Flocks; nor tedious is my Verse.
In Bethlem's verdant Pastures, round their Folds
Shepherds by Night their careful Watches kept,
Fearless of Blastings, Dews and midnight Cold:
So great their Love of Flocks or Thirst of Gain.
By chance together they had pitch'd their Folds,
Protected safer thus by mutual Aid;
135

Where, after each had walk'd his nightly Rounds,
They met; and, as befell, mix'd various Chat;
Yet not of am'rous Toys, or female Guiles;
But with wise Talk deceiv'd the Hours of Night.
What mean, said one (and round he tuckt his Cloak
Close to his Breast, as bent on long Discourse)
VVhat mean the People, who on tiptoe stand
Expecting the Deliv'rer, who should come,
And rescue Israel from long Servitude?
For so I heard, when to the Temple late
I drove my tender Lambs, meek Offerings.
These careful Watches then we need not keep,
Tame Wolves and Lambs shall then together play,
Lions with fearless Kids; so 'tis foretold.
Attend, ye Shepherds, to my rural Song,
Safe are your Flocks; nor tedious is my Verse.
Are now the years fulfill'd? is this the time
VVhere our inspired Prophets have foretold,
136

A Branch of Jesse, sprung from David's Loyns,
His Father's Scepter shall resume, and rule
All Nations; and whose Reign shall never end?
Sure when he comes, we shall not be forgot,
For David was a Shepherd ere a King.
Come when he will, two of my fattest Lambs
Shall, as a Vow, on th' holy Altars bleed.
Thus talk'd the Swain, and he much more had talk'd
Ev'n till the Morning Star and Day arose:
But suddenly a glorious Glare of Light
Surpriz'd the sleeping Field: a glorious Light
Bright as the mid-day Sun, when from the Crab
He stares with glowing Eyes on the parch'd Earth;
Then Shepherds, lead your Flocks beneath the Shade,
Or to some Silver stream; for Heat breeds Thirst,
Attend, ye Shepherds, to my rural Song;
Safe are your Flocks; nor tedious is my Verse.
137

Rest, rest again, ye Sheep, 'tis a false Day;
Rest, till Day break indeed, and Night be gone.
Amidst the Glory was an Angel seen,
And thus he spake: Cease, Shepherps, cease to fear:
To you, from the Eternal I am sent,
VVith Tidings sent, which ye shall joy to hear,
Ye and all Nations: for this Day is born
Your Saviour; David's long expected Son.
And lest ye doubt, strait hence to Bethlem go,
There in a Manger, humble Cradle, lies
The smiling Babe; go ye, and see him there.
VVhile thus he spake, a Quire of Angels came
VVasting thro' Air, and hovering on Wing
Chanted Celestial Hymns; and Glory sung
To him that sits on the Eternal Throne,
On the Earth Peace, and good Will toward Men,
Attend, ye Shepherds, to my rural Song;
Safe are your Flocks; nor tedious is my Verse.
138

They joyful went, and going, much they talk'd
Of what they saw, and what they were to see.
VVhy this to us, said they, of all Mankind?
Sure Heav'n is partial to the Shepherds Life,
Since righteous Abel first acceptance found;
Our great Lawgiver kept his Father's Sheep
And David from his Fold was call'd to reign:
No Wolf, nor Thief, ye Sheep, infest your Folds,
But rest in Peace untill your Swains return.
FINIS.
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