The works of Sir William Mure of Rowallan :: :: University of Virginia Library

Now woefull Dido, sad afflicted wight,
Greiv'd with the Fates' vnflexible decree,
Her heavy soull abhorres the loathed light,
Charg't with affliction and anxietie.
Heaven's cristall vaults she wearyes more to view,
Resolv't at once to bid the world adiewe.

Whil as on altars she did incense burne,
It seem't she saw, (a monstrows sight to showe),
The liquours black, the wyne in blood to turne,
Presaging her approaching overthrowe.
To none this fearfull vision she reveal'd,
Ȝea, even from Anne, she this sight conceal'd.

Ane chappell als was in the palace plac'd,
Where humbly heavens Sicheus earst ador'd,
Whose marble walls rare artifice had grac'd,
With sacred bewes, and fleeces white decor'd.—
From thence, (whill night earth's face did overcloud),
It seem'd Sicheus call'd her name aloud.

And als the light-envying owle, alone,
With tragick toones her smarte and sorrow shew,
With mourning accents seiming to bemone,
As if she knew some bad mischaunce t' ensue;
Then diverse things, which prophets shew of old,
Her mangled minde with monstrows visions hold.

129

Her oft, by dreames, Æneas fierce doth chace,
Still seaming to be left herself alone,
And vagabounding in ane heavy cace
Through fields vnknowne, accompanyed by none,
Searching her people, but she none can finde,
A tediows journey to her wearyed minde:

As Pentheus mad, affray't by furyes, seam't
Two Sunnes, two Thebes, both at once to see;
Or as Orestes in his fancy dream't
His hydra-headed mother he did flie,
Arm'd all with snakes, and brands of burning fire,
Each place seam't plenisht with revenge and ire.

In guilty conscience having now decreed,
No salue butt death could cure her inward sore,
And with her self on time and forme aggreed,
(Loathing the world, resolv't to liue no more),
This fain'd device, suspicion till eschew,
Of her designes she to her sister shew.

(Her thoughts disguising with a smiling face,
And hope appearing in her eyes to shine):
“O Anna, now rejoyce thy sister's cace,
For I an way have found by rare engine,
Which him with me to stay shall either move,
Or teach me to reclaime from him my love.

“A land theire is, far, far remote from hence,
Which sees the sonne go downe in westerne deeps;
Whose coastes abowt the Ocean doth fence;
Of Æthiopia the name it keeps;
Where Atlas hudge on shoulders strong doth beare,
And vnderprops heaven's star-embroidred spheare.

130

“A virgin preist by chance of Morish lyne,
Expert in magick, hath from thence repair'd,
Who keeps the garden of th' Hesperian tryne,
And feeds the dragon which the frute doth guarde;
Mixing with honey, and with liquours sweet,
The purple poppy which provoketh sleep.

“She, by her charmes, can stop affection's source,
And whom she pleases, als can plague with love;
Torrents ar stayed; stars retrograde their cowrse;
Spreits from belowe do at her word remove;
Dull earth doth roare, and horribly resound,
And tallest trees do headlongs fall to ground.

“Let heavens and the, deir sister! bear recorde,
And witnes to the world, against my will,
That I, constrain'd, to magick airts accorde,
And seeks redresse by such vnlawfull skill.
Go thow, ereck in th' inner cowrt in haste
A fire of wod, vpon the walls hie plac'd.

“Tak syne the sword leaft by this perjur'd wretch,
His cloaths, and als owr haples wedding-bed,
In which I perisht whil I fear'd no bretch;
And let those all vpon the flame be laid,
So that no token vndestroyed may stand
Which him pertain'd. Thus doth the priest cm̄and.”

Heir clois'd she, sighing sore, perplext a space
To stop the currant of her swelling teares;
The crimson dy abandoning her face,
Sad, faint, and pale, she look't, confus't with feares.
Ȝit Anna doubts not that she doth intend
Thus to disguise her death, and cloak her end.

131

No rage so great, no fury so extreame,
She dreids her sister in her thoughts conceav'd;
Nor feares now ought more fearfull till haue seene,
Nor when Sicheus was of life bereav'd.
Wherefore in haste, she, (simple soull), obeyes,
And, to performe her charge, no more delayes.

Ane heap of wod for fire prepair'd at once,
With garlands deckt, and crownd with Cypres bewes.
The Queen her sad misfortunes first bemones,
And with her teares his portrate she bedewes.
Syne with the bed, sword, cloathes, she layes ye same
Vpon the heap, to perish in the flame.

In circles rownd, the altars stand abowt;
The Priest appearing then with hov'ring haire,
With thund'ring noyse, three hundreth times doth showt
On Fiends and Pharyes thither to repare;
Conjuring by some charme or magick spell,
The fowle three headed Hecate from hell.

Then sprinkling waters of the Stygian fount,
They search by night some sucking foale to finde,
And pull the hippom'nes from his tender front,
The mother's minde which to the brood doth binde.
Collecting als, their damned work to speed,
The milkie poyson of each ven'mowse weed.

The Queen herself before the altars stands,
With one foot bair, her garment loosse vntied,
With humble heart, and heaven-erected hands,
Calling to witnes, (now before she dyed),
Her guilty starres, and all the gods above,
Of both their partes,—his perjury, her love.

132

If any pow'r supreme then heavens containe,
Or godhead which such lovers doth regarde,
As loves sweit ȝock, and sympathie, do stayne,
And true affection with disdaine regarde,
With fervent minde, fixing her eyes above,
To such she prayes, mindfull and just to prove.

With mantle dark night now did earth ovrspreed,
Each living soull death's image pale possest.
The savage citiȝens, which life did leed
In wods and waters, all secure did rest.
Whil as the heavenly torches, burning bright,
The equall half had wasted of their light.

The skailly squadrones of the liquid lakes,
The brutish bands which in the deserts dwell,
Easing their wearyed mindes, sweet slumber takes,
Cares past entombeing in oblivion's cell.
But not so Dido: neither sleep nor ease
Vpon her self-consuming minde can sease.

Her cares increase, her sorrowes never sleep;
No night her eyes, no rest her thoughts obtaine;
Despight, wraith, furie,—each his place doth keip;
No paussing-space her troubled spreit doth gaine.
But now, inflamed, she burnes in furiows fire,
Now foorth with freeȝeth in revenge and ire.

“Ah! shall I ȝit assay, (quoth she), to speak
My scornefull victor, proud of my disgrace?
Shall I with shame my former suters seeke?
There sew for favour, there entreat for grace
Where pitty pleaded, I so oft disdain'd?
Where mercy beg'd, I ruethles still remain'd?

133

“Or shall I follow that ingloriows fleet,
Fraughted with falshood, guile, and perjuryes?
As if thy former favours now shuld meet
My discontents, and sad afflictions ease.
O ȝes! performed pleasures, kindnes past,
In gratefull mindes lay'd vp so long doth last.

“Suppone such thoughts to practise I would prove,
Should any second my desires? alace!
Who would regarde so much my loathed love,
As daigne their stips to render me a place?
Forsaken soule, too late thow dost repent,
Thow knew Laomedon's perjur'd discent.

“Shall I, alone, my bragging foes persewe,
Or raise my people to revenge and waste?
And so endanger by the seas anew,
Those, present perill who have scarce ov'rpast?
Fy! Dye thyself! such is thy due desert;
Once let this sword put period to thy smarte.

“Thow, sister, first, thow, by my teares betrayed,
Didst overloade me with this masse of care;
Thow to my foe captiv'd me vnaffrayed;
Thow to mine en'mie mad'st me ȝeeld butt feare.
Ah! might I not have happy liv'd alone,
And never more the cares of wedlock knowne?

“I needed not thus waste in teares my ȝowth,
With love's misfortunes and afflictions crost,
If I had keept inviolate my trueth
To my Sicheus, dear departed ghost.”
Those sad regrates, with all the wofull words
A troubled soull could ȝeeld, she thus affords.

134

But, each thing now for present flight prepair'd,
Æneas in his schip secure did sleep,
When to his eyes the god againe appear'd,
Such as before, and thus did seame to speak,
Lyk Mercury in all, in ȝowthfull stature,
In golden haires, in speach, in face, in feature:

“Fair Venus' issue, canst thow now tak ease,
And pond'rest not thy perillows estate?
Hath sleep so much o'rcome thy fainting eyes,
That thow regard'st no danger nor deceate?
Rests thow secure, whil death doth the invade,
Vnwar what plottes against thy life ar laid?

“Hear'st thow not how the whisling winds invite the?
Sweet-breathing Zephyr with a gentle gale
From hence to haiste seames smilingly t'entraite the;
For death-bent Dido, full of bitter bale,
Transported with a rageing spait of ire,
'Gainst the is minded both with sword and fire.

“And flyest thow not, whil flye thow may'st in peace?
The seas anone shall scarce for shipps be seene;
Thy navy furiows firebrands shall deface,
And all the Ocean in one flame shall seeme,
If fondly thow thy flight frome hence delay,
Till once Aurora parte the night from day.

“Haist! haist! Dispatch with speed! But more be gone!
A woman wav'ring formed is by nature;
Now bent to love, to hate inclyn'd anone,
In only jnconstancie a constant creature.”
This spoken, he evanisht owt of sight
In the ayrie essence of the sable night.

135

Æneas, with this vision dismay'd,
Rouz'd vp his sleepy senses; loud did call:
“Awake, my mates! too long our flight's delay'd;
Hoase sayle in haste! hy to the hatches all!
The thund'rer great hath sent anone by night,
His winged messenger into my sight.

“Now anchors wey! now let's owr navy loose!
Trusse vp owr taickling! cables cut in twaine!
Once let's set fordwart all with one applawse,
Behold, the God admonisheth againe!
We follow the, O gloriows guide, butt stay,
And thy great charge we gladly all obey.

“Be thow propitiows! prosper owr designe!
Adjoine thy presence and thine helping might!
Grant that a prosp'rows Planet now may reigne!
Let happy starres arise to guide owr flight!”
This having said, butt more the anchore roape,
With shyning sword vnsheath't, in twaine he stroake.

One earnestnes then, one fervency to all;
All headlongs haiste; one ardowre all retaine;
They rush, they reele, as heaven and earth did fall,
And overspread with sayles the wat'ry plaine.
On Neptun's back all whyt with foame they ride,
And ov'r the tumbling billows fast do slide.

Now was the time when as Aurora cleare
Over sad earth her silver mantle spread,
And in the Orient blushing did appeare,
Asham't to rise frome aged Tython's bed,
When watchfull Dido from her palace spy'd
The Trojane fleet alongst the coast to glyde.

136

Of shipps, hulks, galleyes, brigandines and barkes,
With wings owtstreatch't, all vnder equall saile,
The hudge armado, watching, she remarkes
Through Neptun's empires with ane evenly gale;
Whil roaring engines, throwing globes off steele,
Did thunder foorth an horrible fareweell.

Beating her breast with blows, with plaints the aire,
Hope's wings cutt of, she enters in despare,
And renting foorth, (enrage't), her golden haire:
“O Jove,” she cries, “who know'st alone my care,
Thus shall he go? And must I, in my soyle,
Of such a vagabound receiue this foyle?

“Thus is he gone? And shall not armes availl?
Or shall my subjects all persue the chase
With fire and sword their scornefull shipps to quail?
Fy! People owt! Their fleet with flames deface!
Hoase sayle in haste! Fy, now ȝowr oares employ,
Sack, wreak, revenge, demolish and destroy!

“Complaints, farewell, which butt bewaill my wrongs,
With armes and arte I will persue to death
This traitour. Vengeance now to me belongs.
In hope alone of sweet revenge I breath.
In crwelty I will this cruell wight
Surpas. No sheild shall saue him frome my spight.

“But what do now prowd words availl, alace?
Where art thow now thus frome thy self astray,
Afflicted Dido? O how hard thy cace!
What suddaine change doth thus thy minde dismay?
Oh how accurst! how haples is thy fate!
These threats (alace!) thow vtters now too late.

137

“Such seem'd the when thy scepter thow didst render,
When thus the fortune of thy foe thow rays'd.
Is this his promise? Is his faith so slender,
Whose piety each where abroad was blaz'd,
Both to his Gods, and aged parent deare,
Whome, worne with ȝeirs, on shoulders he did beare?

“Ah! might I not long since have sent to death
This truethles tyrant and his fellowes all?
Ah! might I not have stop't Ascanius' breath,
And torne his tender flesh in parcells small?
Then drest him for that traitour false to eate,
To fairse his belly with so kindly meate.

“O that I had their shipps once set on fire,
And ov'rlofts all with flaming firebrands fill'd!
O that thir hands at once both sonne and syre,
And all those traitours cruelly had kill'd!
O, then how gladly should this hand and sword
In that same moment als my death afford!

“Thow great Apollo, whose bright gloriows ey
With piercing rayes each work on earth doth viewe;
Thow, Juno, guilty of my misery,
Sacred Diana, with thy silver hew,
Whose triple-horned forhead doth controule
Skies, earth and hell,—the night's swift moving soule;

“Ȝee heavenly pow'rs, just, bountyfull, divine!
Ȝe, in whose safegarde wretch't Eliza lived!
And ȝe, O furyes! O vindictive tryne!
Who venge their wrongs who are vnjustly grieved,
Pitty my plaints! O ȝeeld to my desire!
Vpon those traitours exercise ȝowr ire!

138

“If so must be this exsecrable wight
At heaven's dispose must passe the Stygian tide,
And after death enjoy that wished sight,
Ferry'd by Charon to the farther side,
Ȝit grant! O grant, whil flesh his ghost doth wrap,
Plague, sword and famine, be his surest hap!

“Of awfull natiounes let him feele the force,
Frome place to place persu'd, in saifty never.
Exil'd, in neid, butt any man's remorce,
Dissev'red from his only child for ever.
Imploring pitty, let him none obtaine;
But see his people with dishonour slaine.

“And if he ever peace on earth enjoy,
Short be his reigne; soone may his dayes be spent.
And, whill he breathes, be never butt annoy;
But by vntimely death his powr prevent;
Syne rott on ground butt honour of a grave:
This I emplore, this with my blood I crave.

“Last, to his linage showe despight and ire,
Deir people whose true love a life I fand!
This latest favor onely I require,
Let never love nor league betwixt ȝow stand!
O let mine ashes, after death, afford
One to destroy those clownes with fire and sword!

“As time and place permitts, both now and ay,
Let discord alwise, and debate domine!
Let shoare to shoare, let streame 'gainst streime, I pray,
And let owr ofspring ever armes reteine!”
Heir closing, deeply she doth now revolve,
What way she soonest may her life dissolve.

139

Then calling on Sicheus' aged nurse,
(Of purpose only to be left alone),
“Go, Barce! carefull nurse, direct thy cowrse
To Anna, pray her heir arive anone,
With waters purg't from each polluted thing,
Expiatory offrings caws her bring.

“And thow, enfold with sacred cloithes thine head;
The rites intended now I minde to finish
To Stygian Jove, which must afford remead,
Whereby my cares may peice and piece diminish.”
With aged pase, this said, to haste enclin'd,
She stagg'ring foorth did show her fordward minde.

Now deathbent Dido, (trembling fast for feare
Her horrible attemptings to persue,
Rolling her eyes, which bloody did appeare,
And flaming sparkles of her fury showe,
With sorrow-tainted cheiks, and deadly hew),
Look't pale for horrour of the fact t'ensue.

But quickly ent'ring where the flame was fram'd,
The wodden heap she doth amount anone;
The haples sword she in her hand retain'd
Vnsheath'd, which once pertain'd to him was gone;
That cursed blaide, that instrument of death,
Ordained never to abridge her breath.

Thair whil her eyes, which still butt motion stair'd,
Th' acquainted cowtch and remnant weids did viewe,
Paussing, (now vtterly of life despair'd),
With gushing teares her breath a litle d[r]ew;
Syne tumbling on the bed, withowt moe words,
Thir latest speaches she, poore soull, affords:

140

“O thow sweet vesture! and O happy bed!
Whil heavens above and dest'nyes did permitt,
That once, ah! once with ȝow my life I led,
Receive this soull, frome me which hence doth flitt,
This fleshly preson ready now to leave,
And of all earthly toyles ane end to have.

“My glasse is spent; my time I have owt-lived;
The race is runne, which Dest'nyes did designe;
And as the heavens my terme of life contrived,
Swa have I lived, accomplisht in my reigne.
So now this earthly shaddow goeth to grave;
So now at once this loathed lyf I leave.

“Skie-matching Carthage from the ground I rais'd;
Her staitly walls I floorishing did viewe;
My wrath vpon the prowd Pigmalion seas'd,
My lord Sicheus trait'rously who slewe.
Happy, (alace)! too happy had I beene,
If never Trojane ship my shoare had seene.”

With drowping gesture and dejected eye,
“Die shall I,” sayes she, “and no vengeance finde?
Butt die thow must, faint Dido, boldly die:
Thus, thus my breath I render in the winde.
Now let the traitour viewe, though not regrate,
This flame, the presage of my present Fate.

“But oh! ȝit art thow, (feeble flesh), affray'd?
Why trembles thow to be depriv'd of breath?
Oh coward hand! and art thow als dismay'd
To be the executioner of Death?
Though hands, though flesh doth faint, O fearles knife,
End thow my cares, and cut my threed of life!”

141

With gushing teares, those words whil as she spak,
The cursed blaide but more her purpose brak,
Which in her breast vnto the hilts she strak,
Withowt remorse: O exsecrable fact!
The wepon, foaming in her luk-warme blood,
Maide open passage to the gushing flood.

Her Dams attending see their mistris fall
On piercing sword, with armes abroad owthrow'ne,
Sprauling in paine, with blood begoared all,
Which freshly from her wonded breast was gone:
The skreigh is rais'd, with many rewfull cries,
The clamours great reverberat the skies.

Fame through the citty blaz'd her fall anone;
Anone the streets with those sad newes ar fill'd;
The women wailing ȝeeld a pitteows mone,
Viewing their Princes and their lady kill'd.
Showts, sighs, smarte, sorow, all each where abound;
With hiddeows noyse the hallow hevens resownd.

Most lyk, as by some vnexpected plott,
The rageing en'my ent'red had the citty;
The bulwarks brave downe batt'red all with shott;
With dint of sword destroying all butt pitty.
Whate'ere occur'd made objects of their rage,
Regairdles both of sexe, of ȝowth, of age.

Whil rageing flames of furiows spreiding fire,
The buildings both of gods and men devore:
Whil rewfull cries of those who life require,
With dying groanes for pitty who emplore,
For rewth would rent a flinty heart a sunder:
Such were the clamoures through the air did thunder.

142

But Anna, wofull nymph, ran trembling there,
Confus'd and speachles, where the noyse was heard.
Faint, breathles, pale, astonisht, full of feare,
To see this rewfull object she appear'd;
Then, preissing through the throng, her call'd by name,
And oft, “Dear Dido! Dido!” did exclame.

“Ah sister! wast for this thow sought by slight
To syle my sight, thy curs't designes to cloake?
Ah! wast for this the flame I built on hight?
To this intent or did the altars smoake?
Ah wretched wight, left now thyself alone!
Forsaken soull! what shall I first bemone?

“Did ever I demerite such disdaine,
That thow thine Anna hast at death debarr'd
To be thy convoy? to partake thy paine?
And reape with the the fruits of thy reward?
Hast thow despis'd thine only sister thus?
Such guerdon never was deserv'd of vs.

“O! since one sword, dy'd in a crimson streame,
Had in one moment both bereft of breath.
But ah! and have thir hands, (O lasting shame!)
Prepair'd the flame, as guilty of thy death?
Call'd I my Gods at altars, prostrate lowe,
Alace! ȝit absent at thy last ov'rthrowe.

“Thy self, thy sister, and thy subjects all,
Thy citty, senate, kingdome and estate,
Each by one stroak destroy'd, with the do fall,
And perish all by thy abortive Fate.”
This said: her bleeding wounds she bath'd in haist,
And kyndly her in dying armes embract.

143

Then seazing on her death-seal'd lipps to knowe
If any sponk of breath as ȝit remain'd,
The streaming teares her face did overflowe,
Whil as she, clasping in her armes, retain'd
Her half-dead sister, faintly drawing breath
In dead-throwe ent'ring at the gates of death.

She, feeling in this agony of minde,
(With soft though sad embraces oft bestowd),
Herself in such frequented bounds confin'd,
As mindefull of the favor Anna show'd,
To lift her eyes assay'd, but streight did faill:
Her heart fix't wounds presage a sad farewell.

Then leining on her elbowe, preis'd in vaine,
Thrie times her body from the bed to rayse;
Three times she fainting tumbles downe againe,
Death on her senses ready now to seaze.
Three times she strove to see the cristall skies,
And three times clos'd again her gazing eyes.

Then heaven's Arch-empresse from her azure tent,
Viewing this dead-lyve lover's toylsome end,
Her stormy breast compassion did relent,
And Iris quickly from the clouds did send
To calme the combat, and compoise the sight
Betwix her drossie flesh and ayrie spright.

For sith no dest'ny did abridge her breath,
Nor due deserved death her day prevent;
Both spightfull rage did antidate her death,
And turn'd the Glasse befor her howr was spent.
Her haires as ȝit Proserpine had not touch't,
Nor by such gift th' Elysian groaves enrich't.

144

On saffroun pineouns soaring then anone,
The winged Iris cutts the cristall skies,
In thowsand colours shining 'gainst the Sunne,
Doth light at lenth where this poore patient lyes:
Syne off'ring vp her haires at Pluto's shryne,
“Leave, leave,” (quoth she), “this corps, O soule divine!”

Thus whil she said, with fingers heavenly white
The golden fleece clip't frome her head in haist.
The native heit her limmes abandon'd quite,
Then in ane instant, by cold death displac't,
Her breath expiring, ane eternall sleep
Did piece and piece vpon her senses creep.

Finis.