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

The quein, sore sick of love, surcharg't with care,
In wounded veines a secret flame doth feed.
Æneas' vertue and his stemme preclare,
Still, in her ravisht minde, a place doth pleed.
Both voyce and eyes one onely object hold,
A masse of cares her restles thoughts enfold.

If slumber sweet vpon her senses sease,
Her troubled braines, with visions new acquainted,
Present her lover still before her eyes,
The object which by day they most frequented.
Awak't againe frome her vnquiet rest,
She finds her spreit with passions strange possest.

Her beating pulses and her panting heart
Showe the distemper of her troubled minde.
No practise, humane industry, nor airt,
For her infection a remeid can finde;
Whose spreading poyson wholly hath ov'rrunne
Her veines, ere scairce she knew her grieff begun.

With purpure blush, soone as the morne displayes
Heaven's cristall gates, (dayes golden beames recall'd),
“Deir sister Anna,” sighing sore, she sayes,
“What dreames, by night, my senses have appal'd!
What apparitions did vpraid my sight!
And broken sleeps, with sudden fears, affright!

“What ghuest so strange hath heir ariv'd of late?
How brave of gesture! and in armes as great!
Whose eyes, of humble majesty the seat,
With grave-sweit looks, imperiowsly entreat.
What broyles, what battles, what enconters bold,
Hath he ov'rpast with courage vncontrol'd!

“If most advis'dly I did not resolve,
Myself to none in nuptiall bands to joine,
Since death my first affection did dissolve,
And sacred Hymen's solemne knot disjoine;
To his assault, (if vnto any one),
I might be moved, (perhaps), to ȝeeld alone.

“To the, (dear Anne), to the I must reveale,
Since death frome me Sicheus did divorce,
Who prowd Pigmalion's cruelty did feele,
This man alone my fredome did enforce.
He only hath enflam't my dead desires;
I feel the footsteps of my former fires.

“I feel within the fornace of my breast
A secret flame, a close confined fire;
What hope is left to smother and supress't?
Which bred my sight, is fostered by desire;
O how I frye and freize, I faint and feare.
How great a loade, (alace), is love to beare!

“What passion strange, (poore Dido!) thus transports the?
Love bids the ȝeeld the in a stranger's will.
But honor tells how highly it imports the,
With headles haste thy pleasures to fulfill.
Since flying beauty most enflames desire,
And sweet deniall kindles Cupid's fire.

“Love bids the runne where sweet delight doth leade,
And prove those pleasures which to ȝowth belong;
But honor doth advise the to tak heade,
Thy spotles fame and princely partes to wrong.
Since vertue's field is easily laid waste,
And meates vnwholsomest most please the taste.

“Nay, rather earth devore me first alive,
And, Erebus' dark shad's enclos'd among,
Let thund'ring Jove me of my life deprive,
O sacred modesty, ere I the wrong!
Or ever prease the statutes to eschew,
Of shamefastnes which to my sexe is due.

“He, he, (alace), to whome I first was fast,
My soules affection hes frome hence transported;
O let it with his ghost for ever last,
Entomb't with him, where first my love resorted.”
This said, her eyes a cristall flood foorth powre,
And on her cheiks distill a pearlie showre.

“Sweet sister,” Anna then at lenth replied,
“Dear as my life, more then my self affected,
Still shall thy ȝowth to mourne alone be tied?
Are childrene deare, by the, no more respected?
Hatst thow so much those joyes which Venus brings?
And think'st thow soules departed care such things?

“Although, when sade melancholie of late
Seas'd on thy minde, all sutes thow didst reject;
No Lybian husband, not Hiarbas great,
Nor Africk captaine couldst thow then affect;
But canst thow now resist, and not approve
The sweet effects of such contenting love?

“Thow weyes not well what bounds thow dost possesse;
Heir the Getulianes and Numidians stowt,
Heir Syrtes sands, famowse in barrennesse,
Heir the Barceans compas the abowt;
What shall I speak of Tyrus' new debates,
Which now arise, and of thy brother's threats?

“By heaven's assent, (I hope), and Junoes aide,
The Trojane ships have heir the cowrse intended;
What citty, (sister), sall of this be made,
If such alliance prosperowsly wer ended?
What reignes arise, if Troy with vs wer one?
With what triumph should Africk shine anone?

“Plead first, frome heaven, protectione divine,
Pretending cawses to thy ghuest of stay,
Till stormes be still, the seas to smile incline,
Ships saiff may saile, and heavens their furie lay.”
Her kindled breast thus Anna did enflame,
Swa hope she caught, exiling dowbt and shame.

How easily do women women move,
To whome they truste the secret of their heart!
By her perswasion, O how quick doth love
Disperse the self, and spreed in every parte
A furiows flame, a fumeing fever fell!
No antidote this poyson can expell.

To church they haste, and first heaven's peace entreate,
On altars off'ring to the gods above,
To Ceres, Phaebus, and to Bacchus great,
To Juno chiefly, who hath care of love.
With cuppe in hand, the Queen herself doth syne
Powre foorth vpon the sacrifice the wyne.

Or at the altars off'ring gifts she spaces,
Observing what new Fortunes do ensue;
Marking the bowells, and the breathing places
Of every beast, with most attentive viewe,
Which open to her sight; with narrow eyes,
She gaz'd and guess'd; what all doth boad she sies.

Ah fond conceits! What do her vowes availl?
Or what do temples sought her rage empare?
Whill as her marrow doth already faill,
With soaking flames consumed, dry'd vp with care,
And whill enclos'd into her breast profound,
She nourisheth a deadly feast'ring wound.

Like as the dear, which wounded vnawar,
With hunter's shaft fast fix't into her side,
Runnes headlongs heir and their, both near and far,
But still the dart doth in her breast abide,
So Dido, poyson'd with a deadly head,
Butt rest doth rage, sore martyr'd but remeid.

Through stately Carthage now her ghuest she guides,
With gloriows shows to entertaine his sight;
Now sumptuows banquets painfully provides,
With variows objects surffeiting delight.
Then Trojane toyles with burning minde to heere,
Oft she entreats, and gives most watchfull eare.

But whill she speaks, her speach confus'd doth faill,
Whill frome her minde her wav'ring tongue debordes;
With looks anone she doth anew assaill,
Dumb oratours perswading more then words;
Whose silent language doth most lively teach,
How meane a messenger in love is speach.

100

For loe! her eyes, the index of her minde,
With piercing lookes imperiowsly entreate,
And tell her lover that, too long vnkinde,
He overlookes her passionat estate.
O heavenly Rhet'rike! which butt words reveals
What modesty in women still conceales.

But ah! whil he is gone, and night's pale face
Day doth displace, provoking pleasant rest,
Oft she alone laments, oft doth embrace
The happy place which he of late imprest.
Oft to her trowbled senses it appeares,
That him still present she both sees and heares.

Then ȝoung Ascanius she doth entertaine,
His parents portrate perfectly presenting,
Whome in her armes she softly doth enchaine,
By sweits suppos'd, her sowres of life relenting.
Thus stealing by the slowely sliding howres,
So to subdue loves still assailing powers.

Her careles minde, slouth, meanwhile, doth supprise;
Buildings begun ar left: ȝowth armes despise;
No bullwarkes brave, no rampiers rare arise,
But all engine of warre imperfect lies.
No martiall thought her minde doth more retaine,
For love and slouth insep'rable remaine.

When Juno, from her azure pale, espied
With such a frensie Didoes minde infected;
And when her furiows fever, such she tried,
As no reporte nor rumour she respected,
To Venus first her cowrse she doth direct,
And to the Goddes thus begowth to break:

101

“How great thy conquest, glory and renowne!
Thy boy and thow victoriows parte the spoile.
Have two, of heavenly issue both, throwne downe
One simple woman? O! a famows foile.
Art a beleving lady, vnadvised,
By Cupid conquer'd, and thy slight supprised?

“Oh poore weak conquest! But to what effect
Thus keep we armes? Why peace and amity
Prefer we not, though earst we did suspect
Owr prowd skie-reaching wals of Carthage hie?
Those feares remov'd, now at thine owne desire,
Thow hast what heart can wish or tongue require.

“Love-sick Eliza now thy boy doth burne.
The furiows forge Æneas feeds alone.
O! let vs then conjoine, withowt returne,
With equall love vniting both in one.
Now Dido may be tyed to Trojane mate,
And thow receave, in tougher, Carthage great.”

But Venus soone the stinging snake espied,
Hid in the grasse, quick in her guilded wordes,
And counterfeet the Siren's song she tried;
To whome the Goddes answere thus affordes,
(Perceiving that of policy she spak
From Italy Æneas to keip back.)

“Who war so mad, with the in armes contend,
Refuse thy freindship, or thy sutes denie?
If fates owr projects happily would end!
But O, I feare, when Jove owr minds doth trie,
If he will graunt this purpose to approve,
And if assent those partyes joine in love.

102

“Thow art his spowse, thow boldly may assay
To learne [his] will; lead thow the way I followe.”
“That parte,” (quoth shee), “pertaines to me to play,
That fuird, though fear'd, I hope to find but shallowe.
But how the present purpose finish may,
Give eare, and shortly I sall showe the way.

“Soone as Aurora frome her bed of roses,
Arising chearfully, beginnes to blush;
And, in the East, heavens cristall gate vncloses,
From whence big-looking Phaeton doth rush
With flaming haire; then are those lovers two
A hunting in the woddes resolv'd to goe.

“There, whil the horsemen, prancing to and fro,
Enclose abowt with hounds the trembling deir,
I, frome above, a tempest downe shall thro',
A fearfull storme, till all their troupes reteir.
With thund'ring noyse both heaven and earth sall shake,
Perforce the hunters shall the fields forsake.

“Their mates, butt more, shall all at once be gone;
None shall abide, but all in darknes stray;
With sable wings night shall envolve anone
The world each where: all shall in darknes stray.
One cave shall then, (butt witnes more), containe
The Trojane prince and Carthaginiane queene.

“Where, if thow firmely to my minde accord,
I shall be present, and with mutuall vowes
Mak her his wife, and him her mate and lord,
In all respects to vse her as his spouse;
Both tying with vnseparable bands,
In Hymen's presence joining hearts and hands.”

103

The Goddes showing by a gracefull smile,
That she applauded vnto Junoes minde,
Begowth to laugh when shee perceiv'd the guile,
And gave a signe in token she enclin'd,
And to the purpose did assent, and so,
Whil they devise, the night away doth go.

Aurora blushing then at once appeares.
The gallant ȝowthes for pastime all prepare,
With nets of ev'ry sorte, with hunting speares;
The horsemen haste with hounds, of sent most rare.
Before the palace all the cowrt attends
The Queen's aryvall, whil the morning spends.

With gold attir'd, and robes of costly worth,
Threat'ning the bitt, her palfrey stamping stayed.
With mighty traine herself then marches foorth,
With broid'red mantle, hunter-like arrayed.
Of gold her quaver, gold her loks divids,
And purple garment, tied with gold, abides.

Lo! now, the prince Ascanius proceeds,
Accompany'd with all the Trojane peers.
Æneas last majestickly succeeds,
Whose brave proportion all, butt match, admires.
With stately cariage, marching forward fast,
Till with the Queen his troupes he joines at last.

Most like Apollo, shuneing winters stormes,
When Zanthus' floods, and Lycia's cold he flyes,
And to his native soile himself conformes,
To Delos, there to feast and sacrifize.
For gladenes all th' inhabitants do shout,
Dancing with joy the altars round about.

104

On Cynthus' toppes the God doth proudly space,
With hov'ring locks, which drest in circling rownds,
With Lawrell garlandes, and with golden lace,
Are touss'd; his shafts betwix his shoulders sounds.
So march't the stately Trojane; such his grace,
Such was the beauty of his heavinly face.

How soone the' aryv'd upon the montaines hie,
And found the haunts where as the beasts had stayed;
Behold! the deir downe from the rocks do flie,
Coursing abroad, athort the fields affrayed.
Both heards of Hart and Hinde the hills forgoe,
And in one globe with feet the dust vpthroe.

But in the vaile Ascanius doth abide,
Making his steid his ȝowthfull rider feele;
And now doth one, now others over-ride,
With dastard beasts disdaining more to deele,
But earnestly wisheth for some foamie boare,
Or that ane ramping lyon once would roare.

Heaven's ordinance with this the earth do threat,
With noyse and terrour; fire and lightnings flie;
Of raine and rageing wind a tempest great,
With horride darknes, dimme the worlds bright eye;
Fire, water, air, and earth seame all anone,
With hiddeows tumult, intermixt in one.

Not trees alone but solide rocks do shake,
Assail'd by rageing torrents tumbling downe
Frome toppes of steipest montaines: all forsake
The fields, affrayed in every rill to drowne.
Their troupes, divided, search themselves to shroud
Frome furiows heavins, with thunders roaring lowd.

105

One cave, whil all the tempest dark do shield,
The Trojane Duke and Dido both contained.
Prodigiows presages sad earth did ȝeeld,
With them when Juno in the cave convein'd.
The guilty air gave light; the fire did glance;
And montaine Faryes did bewaile the chance.

Looke! how a Comet, whose bright flamming haire
Brings tidings sad of dearth, or death of kings,
Drawes all men's eyes to gaze amidst the aire,
Conjecturing thereby of future things;
So, whil at first, the Princes beauty shin'd,
Æneas wond'ring ravish't was in minde.

Her pure vnborrowed blush, her native white,
The piercing rayes of her victoriows eyes,
Bred in his soule such singulare delight,
And did his senses suddainely supprise,
In such a sort, that of all sense denude,
He long a lifles, senseles statue stoode.

But soone her looks, of pow'r t'awaken death,
And ravish with amazement hardest hearts,
Reviv'd him frome his traunse, recal'd his breath,
And to his sleeping senses life empartes;
Who instantly confines, within his armes,
His sweetest Siren, who his fancie charmes.

Sie now how honour, love, and modesty,
With diverse colours dye her blushing cheeks!
When, (lay'd aside respect of majesty),
The fort to render, proud Æneas seeks.
And whil, (desire rul'd by the blinded boy,)
Loves sweet-stolne sport he labours to enjoy.

106

With faint repulses and denialls sweet,
Lo! how she shrinking, strives his sutes to shune;
But he now offers force, now doth entreate,
And still persewes, till last the prise is wonne.
The jemme enjoy'd, which women hold so deare,
And honour prostrate, blushing did reteare.

Can words, can vowes, can feeble hands resist,
With hote desire whil ȝowthfull blood doth boyle?
Though she repine, do his assaults desist?
Small glory is a ȝeelded foe to foyle.
Women must still deny and vse defences,
Till charming Cupid lull a sleep the senses.

This wrought to sin, anone she waxeth bold,
And mutually her mate doth entertaine;
Loe! how her strict embraces him enfold,
Whil as they issue frome the cave againe,
Nothing asham'd to come in open sight,
Thus vse in sinning soone maks sin seame light.

This disemall day did Didoes death begin;
This day of all her sorrowes was the source:
Now neither fame she cares, nor shame, nor sin,
Nor more devises any secrete cowrse
To cloake her love; but mariage this she thinks,
And at this foule offence, (effronted), winks.

Swift-flying fame those tydings quickly spreads,
And suddaine rumours soone through Africk sends.
Fame, which by flight and moving lives & breads,
Lurks first belowe, then straight to hevin ascends.
With nimble wings from earth she doth arise,
And hides her head amidst the starry skies.

107

Her mother earth, (whil as her brood rebelld
Against the gods, with blind ambition driven,
Themselves ov'rthrowne, their proud designes repell'd,
Darring to scale the batlements of heaven),
Her brooded foorth, (they say), in great despight,
A sister light of foot, and swift of flight.

A fearfull monster, horrible butt match;
How many wav'ring plumes her carcasse beares,
Als many eyes them vnderneath do watch;
(A wondrous thing to showe), als many eares
Still heark both near and far, throughowt all bounds;
Als many mowthes; als many tongues resounds.

Twixt heaven and earth, by night she nimbly flyes.
Her brazen trumpe to sownd she sleep forsakes.
Great cittyes oft by day she terrifyes.
On turrets hie she sitts, when rest she takes.
And whil she showes what she hath seene by viewe,
Things ofter fain'd she doth reporte then true.

Then diverse rumours she disperst anone,
Blazing abroad both things vndone and done.
How to Æneas, of the Trojanes one,
The matchles Dido dain'd her self to joine,
Who given to please the flesh, (a life vnjust),
Care-les of kingdomes, live in lawles lust.

With those reportes whil she the world did fill,
To loath'd Hiarbas now she taks her flight,
And showes this lover even the worst of ill,—
How, he disdain'd, a stranger joyes his right.
This king was Joves owne sone, and child most deare,
Whome Garamanth the noble nymph did beare.

108

An hundreth temples in his large empire,
An hundreth altars are to Jove vpraised,
Where he hath consecrate a quencheles fire,
Where, night and day, th' eternall gods are praised.
The blood of bullocks cover all the grounde;
Sweit smelling floures through all the flures are founde.

He, mad almost in minde, depriv'd of rest,
Sore griev'd and with those bitter newes displeased,
Himself in presence of the gods addrest,
And their before the altars sacrifized.
With humble heart, and hie erected hands,
Thus powring foorth his plaints to Jove he stands:

“Æternall Jove! whom Lybianes all adore,
As heaven's most gloriows guide and judge supreme,
On carpetts ritch, to thy immortall glore
Solemnely feasting, celebrate thy name.
Beholdst thow this, O father most benigne!
Of heaven and earth the sempiternall king.

“Though, frome above, thow fire-flaughts downe dost throwe,
(Dread soveraigne!) ȝit we nothing are affrayed;
Though by thy lightnings we thy wraith do knowe,
Ȝit not-the-les owr wickednes is stayed;
As lacking force, thy fires no fear affords,
And judgements past no mortall more records.

“A woman, wand'ring in owr coastes of late,
To whome, both towne and bounds where she remain'd
I gave, with lawes to governe her estate,
My mariage most vngrately hath disdain'd,
And plac'd a stranger over her empires,
As only Sov'raigne of her soules desires.

109

“And now he, Paris-like, with mates disguised,
Half-men, half-maids, resembling both or neither,
His curled head with Phrygian mytre guised,
With balmed haires, his spoyles enjoyes the rather.
But we, befoire thine altares gifts do heape,
And nothing els but fruteles fame do reape.”

Him playning thus, with melancholiows minde,
The Thund'rer heard, and turning straight his eyes
To Carthage cowrt, (whose stately turrets shin'd
'Gainst Phœbus' rayes), where he those lovers sees,
Drunk with delight of sin, not careing shame,
Whole given to lust and misregarding fame:

“Go, Mercury, my sone, mak haste,” he sayes,
“And with Æolian wings addresse thy flight
To Carthage, where the Trojane chiftane stayes,
And kingdomes given by Fate regardes so light.
Go swiftly sliding through the subtle aire,
My vncontrolled will to him declare.

“None such fair Venus promeist he shuld prove,
Nor twise for this from Graecian armes reskued;
But one to daunt sterne Mars, not doate in love,
Ov'r Italy to reigne, by him subdued.
To kythe his courage frome his noble race,
And mak the world each where his lawes embrace.

“If no desire of glore can raise his spright,
Nor loves for praise to putt himself to paine,
Should he Ascanius frustrate of his right?
Amidst his foes what meanes he to remaine?
Nor looks what justly to his ayres doth fall?
To sea he must! this is the summe of all!”

110

This said: the God hence, (swift as thought), he flew,
With nimble feathers to the winds displayed;
Divides the cristall sphears and circles blew,
And cutts the clouds, with golden wings arrayed.
The mover first, the light and shyning fire
He leaves, descending frome great Jove's empire.

The Ramme, the bull, the Twinnes he passeth nixt,
With all the signes the Zodiak adorne.
Owtrunnes the cowrse of straying starres and fixt,
Of planets, which the rest in beauty scorne,
And glist'ring bright, each in a golden robe,
With gloriows lustre, grace heaven's azure globe.

Now by the Artick Pole he swiftly slides,
Owtflyes the eagle and the silver swan,
The flamming dragon, which the Beirs divides,
The Dolphin ravish't with delight of man,
The croune and speare, with many many a million
Of lamps, which light this spatiows pavillion.

This climate cold, where haill, where frost and snowe,
Where raine and thunders, heat and cold do strive,
He leaves als swift as shaft from archers bowe,
And in a sweitter soyle doth soone arive,
Where as the Hydra, and the hirpling Hare,
As mates, in the Antartick Pole repare.

A rod he bears, by which he calls againe,
And sends downe soules to Plutoes dark empires;
Both giveth sleep, and sleeping doth restraine,
Lenthes and abridges life, as he desires.
Still thus he flyes, till he discerne the tops
Of Atlas hudge, the Pole which vnderprops,—

111

Of aged Atlas, whose pyn-bearing browes,
With sable clouds encompast all abowt,
Nor haile, nor sleet, nor wind, nor weit eschewes;
Adoune his shoulders raging spates do spowt;
Whose wrinkled chin great floods do overflowe,
And hiddeows beard maide stiff with frost and snowe.

Heir first his flight heaven's nimble herauld stayes;
Hence posts with speed, his cowrse through th' ocean plying,
And as the swiftest bird, a thowsand wayes,
Now soaring hie, now low her feathers trying,
Alongst the coast of Africk still he flyes,
Till stately Carthage now at lenth he sees.

Heir whil he first with winged feet did light,
And touch't the turrets of those buildings rare,
Anone Æneas he perceaves in sight,
Raising ritch monuments amidst the aire,
To building bent, begirt with sword most bright
With jasper stones, which, starrified, gave light.

With Tyrian purpour robe arayed he shin'd,
Hung frome his shoulders, gloriows to behold,
Which gifts the noble Dido had propin'd,
Wov'ne by her self, and warpt with twist of gold.
No sooner him thus busied he beholds,
But instantly his message sad vnfolds.

“Thow most effeminatly who dost found,
And, (far from hence), heir sumptuous buildings reares,
Skie-reaching castells raising from the ground,
Vnmindfull of thy kingdome and effaires;
To the I come, to the, frome heavens above,
The winged herauld of great thund'ring Jove.

112

“Hee hath given charge I should imparte his minde.
What meanst thow heir in Africk to remaine?
To conquere glory if thow be not inclin'd,
Nor loves for praise to put thy self to paine,
Ascanius rising ȝit behold, and wey
The hope of ayers from him by just degrie,

“To which the crowne of Italy is due,
To which the Romane empire appertaines.
To sea thow must!” Thus said, he bids adieue,
And visible no more at all remaines
To mortall sight: as Phœbus beames do banish
A sable cloud, so did the god evanish.

But now, sad Prince, what stand'st thow thus amazed?
What passions the perplexe? why lookst thow pale?
What suddaine sorrowes on thy soule have seazed?
What froward fate hath turn'd thy blesse to baill?
What woes so vive, charact'red in thy face,
Thus overcloud the rayes of princely grace?

As one whome fearfull visions do affright,
In nature's dear embraces laid a sleep,
Whil Hydras and Chymeras mock the sight,
And wound the soule with apprehensions deep,
Whil as this masse, wherein nought moves but breath,
Oft starts, whil gastly Gorgones threatne death;

So still he stands, nor voyce nor gesture steirs,
With armes acrosse; his colour comes and goes;
Words find no vent; confus'd with suddaine feares,
His haires for horrour and affright vprose.
Sad, pale, astonisht, and of sense bereft
He seem'd; this sight such deep impression left.

113

But, self-return'd, he layes aside respect
Of things humane to Jove's eternall will.
He must not follow what he doth affect.
What heavens command poore mortalls must fulfill.
Now must he leave his princesse and her state.
Who may resist inevitable Fate?

But ah! (sad soule), what shall he first attempt?
How dar he this his enterprise reveale
To furiows Dido? how her minde relent?
What way with her dar he begin to deale?
Resolving now, now changing, nought contents,
In diverse partes his dowbtsome minde he rents.

At last his captaines he concludes to call,
(As only best advise to be embrac'd),
Sergestus, Mnestheus, and Cloanthus tall;
Straight gives command their fleet to rig in haist,
And by their counsell, providence, and care,
For flight by sea doth privily prepare.

Their souldiers they do secretly conveene,
In readines remaining on the shoare,
In shining armes who suddainly ar seene
For feare of any following vproare,
And cawses fain'd, to keip their plots vnkend,
Of such novationes publickly pretend.

He meanwhile minds, whil Dido least doth knowe,
And doubts no breach of such sure founded love,
To try her pleasant hours most fitt to showe,
And search if he her owne consent could move.
Their prince's pleasure they, butt more delay,
Haste all anone with glaidnes to obey.

114

But watchfull Dido did the guile perceive,
And fand the cowrse intended for their flight,
(What slight so great a lover can deceive?
What fetch of fyne device could syle her sight?)
Then foorthwith fame disperst for newes abroade,
In readines their ships at anchore roade.

She, mov'd in minde, with looks and gesture sad,
With hiddeows clamoure railes the streets through owt,
Most like the furiows Thyas running mad,
The fearfull leader of that rageing rowt;
Whil as the Moenads, who abhorre the light,
Do sacrifize to Bacchus in the night.

With boundles rage, thus overrul'd a space,
Anger and furie in her face did flame;
Mad passions did her patience displace,
Despight and rancour reason overcame;
Wraith keipt in words, sighs only passage finde,
Whose vapours vented, ease her burden'd minde.

At last, more calme, she thus begowth to speak,
(Extremity to words a way affords:)
“Dost thow intend, deir lord,” (quoth she), “to break
Thy solemne vowes, and violate thy words?
Thy sad departure frome thy love to hyd,
And frome thir shoares thus secretly to slyde?

“Whither, O cruell! whither dost thow flie?
What discontent thus change in the doth move?
What wrong, (alas!), or what offence in me,
Thus maks the loath and vilipend my love?
With too much kindnes art thow overcloyed?
Or ar my favowrs hated, 'cawse enjoyed?

115

“Ah! 'twas not so, when thow did pensive sit,
Sigh, faine to die, look pale, protest, and sweare,
Vowing thy service at my feet, whil ȝit
For all thy oathes thy policies appear.
By sad experience, O! I find it true,
That seldome lust delights in what is due.

“But ȝit the world in me some fault may deeme,
(For poore, weak women euer bear the blame),
Why thow my bed, as stayn'd, dost disesteeme,
Regardles of my favour, thy defame.
But I to the appeal, if ere my ȝowth
Gave proofe of ought butt vndistained trewth.

“Did my cold breast so long vnwarm't remaine
From men's deceits, and charming flatterings free,
Nor once one thought of love did intertaine,
Cruell to all, but kinde alone to the?
Keipt I so long my marble minde vnshaken,
To be by the disdain'd, and thus forsaken?

“Stay ȝit, O! stay, my Deir, possesse in peace
The jewell, which of laite so dear thow prised;
And be not author of her sad disgrace,
Who cannot breath and be by the despised.
Returne, Deir Lord, leave not thy halfe behind,
What I entreate with tears thy oathes do bind.

“Oh! hast thow ells forgot, (when in the cave
Thy guilded words and vowes first won the field;
When, to thy sutes, consent my silence gave,
And poore beleving I, myself did ȝeild.)
How thow did swear, resolve, protest and vow,
Still to be hers, whom thow disdainest now?

116

“How can I think those sighs, so feeling, fained?
Those passionat regrates, but arm'd with airt?
Those looks, so sad, but for the fashion fraimed
To melt with pitty my relenting heart?
Whil thow beneath thy passions seam'd to faint,
And thowsand colours thy pale cheiks did paint.

“Those sighs, regrates, lookes, passions, colours strange,
Though faynd, in me produc't no false effects.
By those betray'd, I from myself did range,
Too prodigall of what thow now neglects;
And headlesly to thy desires consenting;
Whilk breeds in the dislike, in me lamenting.

“If thow object thy love was then entire,
What owtward virtues now in me do want?
Do not thir beautyes even the same appeare,
That did attract thine heart of adamant?
No stolne vermilion blush, to charme delight
With false allurements, did bewitch thy sight.

“That bastard beauty, and adultrate dye,
That new-found falshood, conterfoot of nature,
Shame of owr sexe, the stayne of modesty,
Fewell to lust, to chastity a traitoure,
That mystery to me was still vnknowne,
This red and white was then, as now, mine owne.

“Though loathed beauty lack perswading force,
Now overclouded with afflictions vaile;
Though sutes, nor sighes find pitty nor remorce;
Though passions, plaints, and prayers nought prevaile;
And though thir eyes' bright sunne, obscur'd with smarte,
Lack piercing rayes to penetrate thy heart;

117

“Ȝit cannot my affection nor thy faith,
My constant love, thy promise and right hand,
Nor thine owne Didoes miserable death;—
Can none of those deteine the in this land?
But ah! whil winter's stormes thus raigeing be,
Wilt thow endanger both thy self and me?

“Wilt thow, O cruell thow, to saile mak haste,
Whil boystrows Boreas threats the swelling seas?
Suppone, though Troy ȝit vndestroy'd did last,
And to no forraine countrey now thow flyes,
Whil furiows neptune rageing doth remaine,
Thy native Troy should thow by shipping gaine?

“Ah! fleest thow me? ȝit by those streaming teares,
Which leaue affliction's furrowes on my face;
By thy right hand, by all the hopes and feares
Possesse poore lovers, by those oathes, alace!
Which me betrayed, by owr espousall day,
And by that love thow bar'st me once, I pray,

“If ever I of the did well deserve,
To the ought dear if ever Dido gave,
Showe now compassion; firme thy faith observe;
My life and croune from death and ruine save.
O! let my prayers ȝit relent thy minde,
If any place with the my sutes may finde.

“For thee, the Lybian Kings conspire my wrack;
For thee, the hatred of mine owne I beare;
For thee alone, my shamefast lyf I brack,
And Fame I lost, to me nor life more deare.
To whom thus leavest thow me, to die with shame,
O ghuest? I dar no more the husband name.

118

“Ah! loathed Dido, must thow live to sie
Thy foes triumph? thy self detained a slave?
Ȝit, if at least before thy flight from me,
My luck had been succession sweet to have;
If any small Æneas heir did play
Within this hall, thy face who might bewray,

“Those sorrowes then I should not shrink to prove,
Nor vtterly forsaken should I seeme.”
Thus clos'd she weeping, but no words culd move
His marble minde, he doth so much esteime
The Thund'rer's will. With stedfast eyes he stair'd,
And, obstinate, for answere thus prepar'd:

“Deir Queen! (quoth he), I never shall deny
Thy favowres far surmount my meane deserts.
Thy beauty's bountys, and thy loyaltie,
Would ravish with remorce the hardest hearts.
Nor shall I euer cease, (till heavens afford
My life's last gaspe), thy kindnes to record.

“Those dear delights which I enjoyed of the
No tract of time shall frome my minde remove.
Dear shall thy memory be still to me;
Dear the remembrance of Eliza's love;
And, where so e're remov'd, thow may by right
Esteime me still thy souldier and thy knight.

“But to the purpose briefly I replie:
As to this end I never heir arived
Myself in Hymen's sacred bands to tie,
To be of dearest liberty deprived.
So, butt thy knowledge, neither did I minde
To steale from hence, forȝetfull, and vnkinde.

119

“If heavens and Fortune did assent that I
My life, according to my minde, shuld lead,
Demolish't Troy in dust no more should lie,
And Priam's tow'rs should ȝit amazement bread.
Those hands my native city should restore,
And raise anone to all her former glore.

“To Itally, but now Apollo great,
To Itally the dest'nyes me command.
Their my delight, my countrey, mine estate.
How canst thow my departure thus withstand?
As thow a stranger dost in Africk stay,
Why may not I to Italy mak way?

“How oft dark night with shadowes overcasts
Earth's low'ring face, and glist'ring starres arise;
Anchises' ghost als oft my soule agasts
With fearfull visions to my sleeping eyes;
Admonishing, with terrour and affright,
Me to forgoe thy soyle and deirest sight.

“Ascanius als, whom I vnjustly wrong,
By dreames appeareth frustrate of his right,
Keipt from the croune of Itally so long,
And fatall bounds; both those steir vp my flight.
And now wing'd Hermes, sent from Jove to me,
Commands from hence that I in haste should flie.

“Myself the God within the walls appeare
(Whil as dayes bright beames wer shining) did perceive;
His heavenly voyce thir humane ears did heare.
Leaue then, (I pray), dear Queen, those things to crave,
As may steir vp both the and me to woe.
To Italy against my will I goe.”

120

Him speaking thus, she, sore perplext in minde,
(With greiff in heart and sorrow in her face,
Rolling each where her eyes with lookes vnkinde,
As in amazement), did behold a space.
Not able more her passion to suppresse,
Those bitter words, at last, she doth expresse:

“Remorceles traitour, whom I held too deare!
Sprung from no parents, but of brutish kinde,
The Paphyen Queen such brood did never beare,
Nor the Anchises gott, O wretch vnkinde!
But of the hoarse sea wavs, and hardest stane,
Nurst by some Tigresse, thow hast essence taine.

“Why do I longer my designes disguise?
For what things more should I myself reserve?
Oh! how he did my wofull plaints despise,
And stood vnmov'd, whill I for greiff did swarve.
All my regrates and tears, powr'd foorth in vaine,
From his hard breast one sigh could never straine.

“Ay me! what shall I first lament (alace)?
Ay me! where shall my tragoedy begin?
Let heauens behold my sad afflicted cace,
The grievs and woes I am envolved in.
Let mighty Jove, let Juno from above,
Look on my wrongs and ill-rewarded love.

“Ȝe happy maids, in fredome who enjoy
The dear delights of sacred chastity,
Free from the slee deceits of Venus' boy,
Secure frome danger of disloyalty;
Who never ȝit have knowne men's perjuries,
Nor stand in neid of Argus' hundreth eyes;

121

“O ȝe, who, (Phœnix like), do live but one;
Whose vertew's streame vntrubled still runnes pure;
Frie birds, whom never hand hath seaz't vpon,
From fouler's whisle and deceits secure;
Frie from love's plague and perillows infection,
Nor wonne by men, nor vassaills to affection;

“O never, never to the oaths giue eare,
Nor truste that impiows and vnfaithfull race,
Who ne're to vs do what they are appeare,
(Perniciows instruments of owr disgrace);
And whatsomever showe they do pretend,
Nought but owr shame and infamy intend.

“Their vows, their prayers, protestations, teares,
Are all but fain'd to breid in vs compassion.
None minds his oaths, nor meanes the thing he sweares,
Ȝit cunningly can con̄terfitt a passion.
Owr tender hearts with pitty which betraying,
Works their advantage, and owr sure decaying.

“O then, how of owr favours kinde they boast,
And overcloud with black reproach owr fame!
Thus are owr fortunes mar'd, owr honours lost,
By those who ar delighted in owr shame.
Let Dido's sad experience serve to prove
Their is no trewth in men, nor trust in love.

“No trust in love, nor trewth in men remaines.
This wretch whom seas had naked cast on shoare,
I, (foolish I), prefer'd, who now disdaines
My self, my scepter, and will stay no more;
Vnmindfull miser whom I did receive,
And plac'd, as Lord, ov'r me and all I have.

122

“What furys thus (alace!), incense my breast?
Apollo now! now Oracles Divine!
Now heaven's great messenger is thus impesht!
Quhat ells? Now thund'ring Jove doth thus encline,
And hath his winged herauld sent to vs!
It's like enough the gods ar busied thus!

“A deep invention, forg'd by fine deceit,
I neither hold it's trew, nor false repells.
Go, cruell, go! to Italy, ingrate!
Go, traitour! where thy dest'nies the compells.
Go with such joy, such comfort, peace, and rest,
As now thow leaves in my afflicted breast.

“I hope, in midst of furiows rageing seas,
(If heavens with equity behold my wrongs),
Vengeance on the, in presence of thir eyes,
For thy deserts, shall fall, the rocks amongs,
Where Dido, whom thow oft by name shall call,
With brands of fire thy conscience shall apall.

“And when death's inevitable decree
My body from my better halfe shall parte,
My angry ghost, till I avenged be,
Shall the persew each where with armes and airt,
Nor earth's lowe centre, neither heaven nor hell,
Shall shield the frome my spight and fury fell.”

Ov'rcome with passion, she no more could speak,
But, preassing to eschew his hatefull sight,
Excesse of greiff her purpose heir did break,
(Her latest words scarce heard, nor vtt'red right).
Her vitall powers did faill, her life did faint,
And death his image in her face did paint.

123

Thus, sleeping in a traunce, his eyes she fled,
And left him, (wofull wight), himself alone,
Full many things prepareing to have said,
And maid reply. With that her maids anone,
With ruefull cryes, her frozen corps do bear,
And her in bed they lay with duilfull chear.

But now Æneas, though he much enclined,
(Ov'rcome with greiff, and wounded with remorce),
T' have calm'd the tempest of her troubled minde
With chearfull words, touch't with affection's force;
Whil as the tears, which from his eyes did slide,
If seene by her, her rage had mollifi'd;

Afflicted soule! what shall he now resolve?
To heavens and her his duety how discharge?
A labyrinth of dowbts doth him envolve;
Pitty withstood what Jove did strictly charge;
Constraint him led at lenth, with ruefull look,
Loe! how of her, his last farewell he took.

Hard hearted lover to thy loyall love!
Could not the sunne-set of those lovely eyes,
(Whil death her senses stopt), to pitty move
Thy flinty heart? O! so to tyrannize
Ov'r conquer'd beauty, to thy fame adds soyle:
The victor seldome leaves behind his spoyle.

Now Trojanes all with earnestnes endevore
Their fleet to loose, and launch into the deepe:
Ships, hulks, and galleyes slide along the shore,
And frome the haven with pitched keills do creep.
Trees ȝit vnshapen, blooming leawes for haste,
And oakes ȝit floorishing for oares they plac't.

124

Them, swarming frome the portes, ȝow might have spyed,
All rushing headlongs, hasting from the towne;
As emmets, whil for winter they provide,
Disperst abroad, each running vp and downe,
An heap of corne do spoyle, and beare away
To those hid dennes where they intend to stay.

Those little troupes marche through the fields butt feare,
And through darne passages their spoyles convoy;
The greatest graine on shoulders some do beare,
With all his might each doth himself employ.
With earnest repare the paths do seeme to sweate:
So ran the Trojanes to launch foorth their fleate.

What minde, (alace!) then Dido, was to the?
What sense of sorrow? what vnkindly care?
What deep-drawne sighs? when thow, (sad soule), didst see,
(Wak't from thy traunce), such tumult every where.
When all the Ocean seem'd, frome shore to shore,
With thund'ring noyse into thine eares to rore.

O love! thow tyrant love! what humane wight
Feeles not the force of thy vnbounded ire?
What breathing creature may resist thy might?
Thy fierce assaults, thy bowe, thy shafts, thy fire?
What dost thow not poor mortall's force to trie,
Subjected once vnto thy tyranny?

Now is she forc't, who late triumph't ov'r love,
Againe to treat, againe to turne to teares;
A poore petitioner constrain't to prove,
An humble supplicant to closed eares;
And least, vntried, she ought had overpast,
Thus she resolv's to try him ȝit at last.

125

“O! Anna! Anna! siest thow now what haste
Those impiows traitours mak from hence to saile?
And leaue me loath'd, forsaken, and disgrac't,
Whome death and infamy alike assaile.
Loe! where their fleet, an happy gayle to finde,
Doth ly at anchor, waiting on the winde.

“If ever such an ocean of annoyes,
A waste abysse, a boundles gulf of greiff,
I could have fear'd should thus have drown'd my joyes,
Those feares afforded might haue my releiff.
But, (sister), ȝit before my tragick fate,
Go, charg't with teares, this last requeest entreate.

“For, faithles, he to the alone gaue eare,
To the alone his minde he would reveale;
Thow knows his graciows howres, O sister deare;
Thow knows his times, most fitt with him to deale.
Go! I entreat, to my disdainfull foe,
And those few words from his poore Dido shoe.

“'Gainst him with Graecians I did not conspire,
Nor vow'd at Aulis ancient Troyes disgrace;
Nor sent I navies, armed with sword and fire,
To sack his citty, or extirpe his race.
Anchises' ghost, inter'd, I did not teare.
Why, why refuses he my words to hear?

“Where hastes he headlongs? whither doth he move?
Nought ells I crave, (O! let him now obey
This last request of me his dying love),
Before his flight let heavens their fury lay,
O! let him stay whil Æol's rage doth last,
Till Thetys calme, till perill first be past.

126

“Rejected Hymen, now I crave no more,
Nor sues he should forgoe his mindes delight.
Showe him nought ells his Dido doth emplore,
But let him choose a time more fitt for flight.
A pause to slack my fury I beseach,
My state to mourne, till me my fortune teach.

“This latest fauour, this my last desire,
I humbly plead; pitty thy sister's state,
And when thow hast obtain'd what I require,
To all my greiffs death shall afforde a date.”
Thus she entreats, thus Anna weeping goes,
And thus with teares Æneas' answere sho'es.

But he, (most cruell tyger), stops his eares,
No pitty can prevale to plead remorce;
Sighs are despised, no place is found for teares,
Her sutes vnheard, her prayers have no force.
Fates do withstand, great Jove his eares hath charmed,
And heavens him with an hard'ned heart have armed.

Most like an ancient oake or statly pine,
Which rageing winds impetuously assaile,
And threat the trembling tree to vndermine,
On each side striving her from earth t' vphaile,
With hiddeows noyse which reeling to and froe,
Now heir now their, still seames to overbloe.

Her branches beatne by the storme resound,
Her heaven-bent bewes must either bow or break,
Her straughtest tops are forc't the earth to wound,
But ȝit how much they do themselfs ereck
To heavens; als much her rootes reach downe belowe,
And grips the rocks; no storme can her ov'rthrowe.

127

Even so, Æneas, now for flight prepar'd,
With tears and prayers on each side assail'd,
Though long his minde confus'd with dowbts appear'd,
Ȝit neither pitty, plaints, nor words avail'd;
He stedfast stands, sighes can no favour gaine;
Torrents of teares ar powred foorth in vaine.