The posthumous works of Ann Eliza Bleecker, in prose and verse ::

Now cease these tears, lay gentle Vigil by,
Let recent sorrows dim the pausing eye:
Shall Æneas for lost Creusa mourn,
And tears be wanting on Abella's urn?
Like him I lost my fair one in my flight
From cruel foes—and in the dead of night.
Shall he lament the fall of Illion's tow'rs,
And we not mourn the sudden ruin of our's?
See York on fire—while borne by winds each flame
Projects its glowing sheet o'er half the main:
Th' affrighted savage, yelling with amaze,
From Allegany sees the rolling blaze.
Far from these scenes of horror, in the shade
I saw my aged parent safe convey'd;
Then sadly follow'd to the friendly land,
With my surviving infant by the hand.
No cumb'rous houshold gods had I indeed
To load my shoulders, and my flight impede;
The hero's idols sav'd by him remain;
My gods took care of me—not I of them!
The Trojan saw Anchises breathe his last,
When all domestic dangers he had pass'd:

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So my lov'd parent, after she had fled,
Lamented, perish'd on a stranger's bed.
—He held his way o'er the Cerulian Main,
But I return'd to hostile fields again.

University of Virginia Library

On Reading DRYDEN's VIRGIL.