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Poems, Songs and Love-Verses

upon several Subjects. By Matthew Coppinger

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Dido and Charon.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Dido and Charon.

Did.
A Boat, a Boat.

Ch.
Who calls?

Did.
Charon, 'tis I,
A Soul drove by Immense extremity
To leave the furious Earth, and now am come
To thee to row me to Elizium.

Ch.
What is thy Name?

Did.
Dido, who just now sway'd
Thy Scepter, Carthage, who great Kings obey'd.

Ch.
What brought thee hither? freely now relate
The real cause of this thy sudden Fate.

Did.
Make no delay, sweet Charon, pitty me,
Involv'd by Fate in this Calamity.

Ch.
Thou canst not pass, 'tis vain for thee to strive,
The Gods command, and I cannot connive.

Did.
O Cruelty! then must I tell the cause?
I have transgress'd the great Commands and Laws

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Of the just Gods, thus to anticipate
The desperate force of my too rigid Fate.

Ch.
What was the motive?

Did.
Love.

Ch.
The Gods forbid.
Wou'd such a thing from Mortal Race were hid?
O 'twas not Love, but Glory and Revenge,
And had not Fate commanded such to range
A hundred years on this side Styx, my Boat
Ere now had been as tatter'd as my Coat.

Did.
Charon.

Ch.
I cannot stay, but must be gone,
And leave thee here most sadly to bemoan
Thy desp'rate folly, with those Shades that fly
Like num'rous Troops of Atoms in the Skie.

Did.
But where is then Sicheus?

Ch.
Pish, he's free
From all those troubles that attend on thee;
He's in Elizium.

Did.
What can he rest,
When I with sorrow am so much opprest?
Let not the burden of my grief exceed.

Ch.
This is enough to make the Rocks to bleed,
And Gods relent.

Did.
My very Soul doth swell,
My Heart doth burn worse than the Flames of Hell;
My Princely Power is gone, where's Honours now,
Those regal Titles that did crown my Brow?

Ch.
Honour! there's no such thing, the meanest Slave
Is equal to a Queen when in the Grave.
Here's no distinction, Kings and Princes all
Must bear that equal Sentence that shall fall

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Upon them, for their bad or good intent,
Firmly enacted by Heavens Parliament.

Sub tua purpurei venient vestigia Reges
Deposito luxu: turbaq; cum paupere mixti
Omnia mors equat, &c.