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27

The Second Book.

The Argument.

Embassadours from Rome, to Carthage sent,
Young Hannibal's deserved Punishment,
For Violation of the League, demand:
'Gainst Hannibal, for them, doth Hanno stand.
The Carthaginians doubtfull to declare
What they intended; either Peace, or War,
Stout Fabius offers, and to Rome returns.
In voluntary Flames Sagunthus burns:
And, to deprive the Conqu'rour of the Spoil,
The People, and their Wealth, compose the Pile.
The Latian Ship, o're the Herculean Seas,
The Senate's grave Commands, with Speed, conveys,
And some chief Senatours. Wise Fabius: who,
Descended of Tirynthian Race, could shew
Three hundred Ancestours, that, in one Day,
The cruel Storms of War had cast away;
When Fortune, that unequally withstood
Their Labours, stained with Patritian Blood
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The Banks of Cremera. An equal Share,
With him, in Cares, Publicola did bear;
Who did from Spartan Volesus descend,
And (as his Name imports) the People's Friend,
The Romane Fasces, as His Grand-fire, bore.
When Hannibal first heard, that these, before
The Port, arriv'd, bringing Decrees of State;
That now (amidst the Flames of War) too late,
Forsaken Peace demanded, and withall,
The Punishment of Him, the General,
Included in the League. He strait commands
His threatning Ensigns, and his armed Bands,
To shew, along the Shore, their Targets, stain'd
With Blood, and Swords, that late in Slaughter reign'd:
And cries, There's now no Place for Words; you hear
The Tyrrhen Trumpets sounding ev'ry where,
And Groans of Dying Men. While yet they may,
'T were best, they would return unto the Sea;
Unless they long to be besieg'd. All know
What Armed men, in Heat of Blood, may do:
How lawless Anger is, and what drawn Swords
Will dare to Act. By these His threatning Words
Repuls'd, from the inhospitable Shore,
They haste to Carthage with the lab'ring Oar;
While he, to Animate the Army, rails,
And thus pursues the Vessel, as it sails:
Prepares that Ship to carry o're the Sea
My Head? Alass! Blind Souls, and Hearts, that be
Proud with Successes! Doth your Impious Land
Arm'd Hannibal to Punishment demand?
I'le come, ne're ask it: you enough of Me
Shall have, e're you Expect, and that proud She,
Which now doth Forein Gods defend, ev'n Rome,
Shall fear for her own Gods, and Gates, at Home.
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Although you climb Tarpeian Rocks again,
Or in your Capitol, immur'd, remain:
No Gold your captiv'd Lives shall dis-engage.
Their Minds incensed by his Words, and Rage
Join'd to their Arms, soon Clouds of Arrows, round,
The Skies obscure; and ecchoing Tow'rs resound
With Storms of Stones: all prosecute the Fight;
While yet the flying Ship remains in Sight,
And views the Walls. But still the General,
His Wounds discov'ring, on his Troops doth call
For promis'd Piacles; and fills the Air
With new Complaints. We, we (Companions dear)
Demanded are. See Fabius from the Poop
Shews, in Contempt, our Chains, and we must stoop
To the proud Senate's Wrath. If you repent
Of what's begun, or our just Arms intent
Be worthy Blame: the Romane Ship from Sea
Recall, I care not; come, deliver Me
Enchain'd unto the Wrack: for why should I,
Born of Eöan Belus Race, deny
To be their Slave? Although so many Hands
Of valiant Libyan, or Iberian Bands
Circle me in? No, let the Romane State
For ever rule, and Ensigns propagate
To ev'ry Age, and Nation: let us dread
Their Words, and Frowns. This said, deep Sighs are spread
Through all the Camp, and all convert their Hate
Against Æneas Race, and stimulate,
With Shouts, their Rage. Among the Num'rous Throngs
Of un-girt Libyans, and diff'rent Tongues,
Fierce in the War against the Romane Name,
Hasbyte with Marmarick Ensigns came,
Sprang from Hyarba Garamantick. He,
Of Ammon born, Medusa's Caves, that be
30

In Phorcas Isles, Cyniphian Mace, and
Sun-burnt Battiades, did once command;
With Nasamon, and Barce ever-dry,
And Autololian Woods, and Shores, that ly
Near Treach'rous Syrts; Getulians, that ride,
Swift, without Bridles. His first beauteous Bride
The Nymph Tritonis was: from whence the Queen
Her Stock did boast; That Jove himself had been
Her Grand-sire, and in Groves, fore-telling Fate,
The Names of her great Ancestours relate.
She, still accustom'd to a Virgin-Bed,
In Hunting, and in Woods, her Life had led;
The Basket, or the Distaff, to her Hands
Unknown; She Hunting, and thy Virgin-Bands
(Diana) lov'd, and with Her Heel t'impell
The running Steed, or flying Beast to kill:
As when, disdaining Getes, and Cicones,
Or Rhœsus Family, or Bistones
With Moon-like Arms, a Troop of Amazons
Through the Pangæan lofty Forest Runs;
O're Thraeian Rhodope, or Hebrus Plains.
She, by her Countrey's Habit known, restrains,
With Fillets of fine Gold, her flowing Hair.
Her right-side to the Fight exposed Bare,
Her left a Thermodoantiack Shield,
Bright as the Sun, defends. Thus through the Field,
Shaking the smoaking Axel-tree, she runs
With rapid Speed; while her Companions,
Some in light Chariots, by two Horses Drawn:
On Horse-Back some, that Venus Rites had known,
With a more Num'rous Virgin-Troop, their Queen
Attend. But She still in the Van is seen,
Proud to expose to View her Fiery Steeds,
(Chosen among the Best-her Countrey Breeds)
31

And, as about the trampled Field she scowrs,
Flings wounding Darts, into the highest Tow'rs.
But Mopsus, not enduring to behold
Her, at the Walls so frequent, and so bold,
Through the moist Air Gortynian Arrows sends;
Which, by the winged Steel, where he intends,
Give deadly Wounds. He, born in Crete, was wont
(Bred 'mong the Sibyls Sacred Caves) to Hunt
In the Dictæan Woods; and, when a Childe,
Birds, mounting to the Skies, had often kill'd;
And stop'd by suddain Wounds the running Dear,
That scap'd the Toils; and, while he yet might hear
The singing Bow, perceiv'd the Beast to fall.
Nor could that Age any, more justly, call
A skilfull Archer: had Gortyna sought
The Conquest, and Eoan Arrows brought.
But, when his former Sports the sad Decay
Of Wealth deni'd, constrain'd to put to Sea,
With Meroe, his Wife, and Sons, by Fate
Into Sagunthus led, in low Estate,
A Guest he there remain'd. His hopefull Pair
Of Sons full Quivers at their Backs did bear,
With light, Steel-pointed, Cretan Shafts; which he,
Standing amidst the Valiant Youth, lets flee,
'Gainst the Massilian Troops: by which bold Tyre,
With Gravius, Glisco, Baga, did expire,
And Lixus; who deserv'd not to have bin
The Object of so certain Aim, whose Chin
The tender Down of Youth not yet indu'd.
But, with his Arrows, while he thus pursu'd,
The Fight, he aims against a Valiant Maid,
Forsaken Jove invoking to his Aid,
Unluckily. For Sarpe, born upon
The hollow Banks of Sandy Nasamon,
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No sooner saw him turn the fatal Bow,
But she receiv'd within her Bosom (though
Far distant) the swift Arrow, and her Fate;
Which, with a gaping Wound, did penetrate
So far, that at her Back her Sisters all
First saw the Point appear. Before her fall,
Incens'd, another of the Virgin-Train,
Endeav'ring to support, but all in vain,
Her dying Limbs, and watring with her Tears
Her Eyes, whose Light almost extinct appears;
With all the Strength, that Grief and Fury lent,
Towards the Walls a deadly Arrow sent,
Which through the Shoulder of Stout Dorilas,
(As swift as Thought) with Rapid force did pass.
The Bow was drawn so far, the Horned Ends
Did seem to touch; and, as the Nerve extends,
The space between the Bow the Shaft supplies,
And, when Released by her Fingers, flies
Before the active Winds: then, from the Walls,
Headlong, the miserable Wounded falls;
And turning, upside-down, his Quiver, round
His dying Body, scatters on the Ground
The shining Shafts. Then Icarus, who stood
Near him (alike in Arms) his Brother's Blood
Prepares to Vindicate; and as, in haste,
His Hand unto the full-charg'd Quiver past,
To draw an Arrow; by a weighty Stone,
That from the Hand of Hannibal was thrown,
He fell to Earth: a deadly Coldness all
His stiffned Limbs possest; and, in his fall,
From's fainting Hand, into its place again
The half-drawn Arrow sinks. His Sons, thus slain,
When Father Mopsus saw; thrice, to pursue
Their wish'd Revenge, in a sad Rage he drew
33

His Cretan Bow: but thrice his Right-Hand fail'd,
And Grief, above his former Skill, prevail'd.
Then, by their Death, of all his Joys bereft,
Too late, alass! he griev'd, that he had Left
His Native Soil: and, Snatching up the Stone,
That against thee (Poor Icarus) was thrown,
Beating his Breast, in Vain, when no Relief
His Feeble Hands could give, to Ease his Grief,
By speedy Death, himself he Head-Long sends
From an High Tow'r, and on his Son extends
His dying Limbs. While thus Unfortunate,
In Forein Wars, this Stranger met his Fate;
Teron, who kept Alcides Temple, and
With Incense, at his Altars, us'd to Stand,
To new Designs the Army Stimulates,
And, in a sudden Sally from the Gates,
Invades the Tyrian Camp. He neither Spear
In's Hand, nor Helmet on his Head, did bear:
But, trusting to his Strength of Youth, his Broad
And Lofty Shoulders (like th'Oetæan God)
With an Huge Club, destroys the trembling Files
Upon his Head a Lyon's threatning Spoils,
With Gaping Jaws, he wore. An hundred Snakes,
Carv'd on his Shield, display'd their Marble Backs;
'Mong which a Monstrous double Hydra spreads,
In several Serpents, her divided Heads.
Thus Arm'd, he Juba, and Micipsa, (Fam'd
For Valiant Deeds, and from his Grand-fire Nam'd)
With aged Tapsus, and Saces the Moor,
Driv'n from the Walls, and flying to the Shore,
Fiercely Pursues; and, by one Valiant Hand,
The Streams of Blood the Neighb'ring Ocean stain'd.
For, Hot with Slaughter, and not satisfy'd,
That Idus, Rothus, and Jugurtha Dy'd,
34

Or that Marmarick Cotho he had kill'd,
Hasbyte's Chariot, and her Moon-like Shield,
Shining with Gold, he covets, and t'invade
With all his Force, and Rage, the Warlike Maid.
Him, with his Bloody Weapon, when she spy'd
Come rushing on, she turns her Steeds aside,
And in fallacious Circles, wheeling round
The Champain Field, divides the yielding Ground;
And, as if wing'd with Speed, she makes her way,
With her light Chariot, through the winding Sea.
Thus, while she flies his Sight, swift as the Wind,
The Horses raise a Cloud of Dust behind,
And, with the ratling Wheels, in pieces tear,
An adverse Troop. She, to augment their Fear,
From her sure Hand, did frequent Darts expell:
By which Bold Thamyris, and Lycus fell,
With Stout Eurydamas, whose noble Name
Derived was from him; who, known to Fame,
Fondly to high Embraces once aspir'd,
And, mad with Love, Penelope desir'd:
But by her Chaste, and Modest Arts deceiv'd,
And the fallacious Web, so oft unweav'd,
Gave out Ulysses, in the Sea, was drown'd.
But, what he fain'd of him, he after found
Real in his own Fate, and he expires
By Ithacus dire Hand; his Nuptial Fires
Turn'd into Fun'ral Flames: and, here, of all
His Race the last, Eurydamas doth fall,
Slain by a Libyan's Hand; whose Chariot makes
Her way, and all his Bones in pieces breaks.
But now, perceiving Teron, after all
His Labours, hard beset, to work his Fall,
Into the Fight again, the Furious Maid
Returns with Speed, and, as, about t'invade
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Her Fo, she waves her Ax before her Brows,
Herculean Spoils to thee, Diana, Vows.
But Teron, no less big with hopes of Praise,
Himself against her bounding Steeds doth raise,
Casting before their Eyes the Lyon's Skin,
And threatning Jaws: affrighted, they begin
To yield to Fear, and, turning swiftly round,
Cast, with its Load, the Chariot to the Ground.
Then on Hasbyte, who endeavours now
To quit the Fight, he leaps, and, on her Brow,
Strikes his Herculean Club: by which her Brains,
Dash'd through her broken Skul, upon the Reins,
And fervent Wheels, dispersed ly; while He,
Hasting that such a Trophy all might see,
With her own Ax cuts off the Virgins Head.
Nor was his Anger there determined;
But fixed on a Spear he strait commands
To bear't, in view of all the Punick Bands,
And drive the Chariot to the City-Gates.
These Slaughters Teron, ignorant of Fates,
And that the Favour of the Gods declin'd,
Commits; while his own Death's not far behinde.
For now Fierce Hannibal, whose Face the Throne
Of Rage, and Death appear'd, came Furious on,
Incens'd, and griev'd to see Hasbyte dead,
And the yet-bleeding Trophie of her Head
In Triumph borne. But when the Troops beheld
The bright Reflections of his Brasen Shield,
And, as he mov'd (though distant far) did hear
The fatal clashing of his Arms, with Fear
Possess'd, they trembling fled unto the Walls,
As when, to their known Beds, the Ev'ning calls
The winged People, from the search of Food:
Or, when, on the Cecropian Hills, a Cloud
36

The Hony-lab'ring Bees, on tender Flowers
Disperst, affrighteth, with approaching Showers:
Like one congested Heap, unto their Hive,
And fragrant Cells, they haste, and Murm'ring strive,
One Climbing on anothers Back, to gain
Their Entrance at the Port, and shun the Rain.
Thus Fear the Sagunthines precipitates,
While Few discern their way, unto the Gates.
Oh flatt'ring Light of Heav'n! is Death to be
Shun'd with so great a Fear; which none can flee,
Since joined to their Birth? They cry for Aid,
Repenting, that they had this Sally made
From their safe Walls, and Works: while still, in vain,
Teron their Flight endeavours to restrain.
Sometime Dire Menaces, sometimes his Hand
He does imploy, and cries, Why flee ye? Stand;
He is my Enemy: to me the Crown
Of this great Fight belongs; and from our Town,
And Walls, the Tyrians by this Hand, alone,
Will I Repell. Stand therefore, and look on:
Or, if this Pannick Terrour drive you all,
To seek th'inglorious Shelter of a Wall;
(A shame, the greatest, that the adverse Fates
Can add) against Me onely, shut the Gates.
But Hannibal, while yet a sad Despair
Of Safety seis'd their Hearts, and horrid Fear
Did reign in ev'ry Breast, a while suspends
The Slaughter of his Enemies, and bends
His course unto the batter'd Walls, which he
Resolves, with all his Force shall Stormed be.
Th'Herculean Priest, perceiving his intent,
Labours, with speed, this Mischief to prevent.
At which Fierce Hannibal, more furious grown,
Cries out; Receive, fond Porter of the Town,
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That Punishment of Fate, that shortly shall
Sagunthus self involve, and, by thy Fall,
Open the Gates. His Rage could not afford
More Words: but, as he waves his fatal Sword,
The Daunian Youth flings his contorted Oak,
With all his Force, against his Breast: the Stroak,
Clashing against his Arms, with horrour sounds,
And from the hollow Brass the Club rebounds.
Then having lost his Weapon, and his Strength
Employ'd in vain, unto the Walls, at length,
He turns; and, with the rest, forsakes the Fight.
Th'insulting Conquerour upbraids his Flight,
And follows at his Back. Then, with sad Cries,
The weeping Matrons, lifting to the Skies
Their trembling Hands, from the high Walls, proclaim
Their Griefs, and Fears: some, calling him by Name,
Tell him, They fain would send unto his Aid,
And let him in; but that they are afraid,
With him they should receive the Conqu'ring Fo.
But now (alass!) He can no farther go;
For Hannibal oppress'd him with his Shield:
And, as the City from the Walls beheld,
Cry's; Go, and let Hasbyte Comfort take,
In thy approaching Death. And, as he spake,
Into his panting Throat, which now abhor'd
A longer Life, thrusts his revenging Sword.
Then, from the very Walls, in Triumph leads,
Through all the Camp, his Spoils, and captiv'd Steeds.
Which, at the thronged Gate, excluded stand
By Multitudes, that fled his fatal Hand.
And now, the raging Troops of Nomades
Haste to perform their Queens sad Exequies:
Adding all Funeral Rites, and bearing thrice
The Corps of Teron (as a Sacrifice
38

To Hallow her dead Ashes) round the Pile,
Cast into th'Flames his Club, and Lyon's Spoil,
And sing'd his Face, now of all Form bereft,
And to th'Iberian Fowls his Carkass left.
While thus Affairs before Sagunthus stand,
They, who, at Carthage, were in chief Command,
Consult upon the War, and what shall be
Return'd to Rome's Imperious Embassie.
Whose Oratours with Fear their Hearts had fill'd:
While some to their Demands perswade to yield;
Urging their Faith, and League, that, long before,
They, and their Fathers, at the Altars swore,
The Gods to Witness call'd. Others the Love
Of the ambitious Youth's Attempts doth move,
To hope for Better things, if they pursu'd
The War. But Hanno, whom a Native Feud
Against the General, had long enflam'd,
Their Doubts, and rash Applause thus stoutly blam'd.
I might for Fear (grave Fathers) now refrain
(For him with Threats some labour'd to restrain)
To speak; but I will not desist, although
I saw my Death approaching by my Fo:
I call the Gods to Witness, and to Heaven
I leave those Sacred Vows, that we have given,
Which to perform, our Countrey's Safety calls.
Although Sagunthus be Besieg'd, her Walls
Sinking in Flames; not yet too late, my Fears
This Caution give, which oft, with anxious Cares,
Have broke my Rest, that this pernicious Head
Might not in Arms, and War, be nurtured;
And while I live, my Sense shall thus abide.
His innate Poison, and Paternal Pride,
I know. And as those Pilots, who the Skies,
And Stars do Contemplate, what Storms will rise,
39

What future Winds will cause the Seas to Rage,
To the affrighted Mariners Presage.
Aspiring to a Throne, he doth invade
The Reins of Rule. All Leagues, all Laws are made
The Objects of his Arms: with which he falls
On Cities, and, from far, against our Walls,
By this last Act, Æneas Warlike Race
He hath incens'd, and we have lost our Peace.
His Father's Ghost, and Fury, him excites,
And Memory of those Nefandous Rites
He once did Celebrate, and what of Old
Vainly to him Massila's Priest foretold:
And thus the Gods, for his infringed Faith,
On his perfidious Head convert their Wrath.
With Hopes of a new Kingdom blind, he Arms
'Gainst Forein Lands, and now Sagunthus Storms.
But let him not commix this Citie's Fate
With his own Fortune; let him expiate,
With his own Punishment, his proper Crime;
For now (Dear Carthage) at this very time,
He Thee Besiegeth, and Assaults thy Walls.
We stain'd, with Gen'rous Blood, th'Ænean Vales,
And scarce with hir'd Laconians could maintain
The War: our Navies, broken on the Main,
Have fill'd up Scylla's Caves: and we have seen,
When, from Charybdis Bottom, Decks have been
Spew'd up again. Vain Wretch! whose Soul no Fire
Of Piety doth Warm! do but retire
Thy Thoughts, a while, upon Ægathes War,
And Limbs of Libya dispersed far.
Whither dost run? Why, thirsting after Fame,
Thus, in thy Countrey's fall, dost seek a Name?
The Alps may give Thee way, and Apennine,
Equal to them, his Snowy Head decline:
40

Yet, though thou gain'st some Ground, think'st thou to finde
In those great Nations a mortal Mind?
That they to Fire, and Sword, will yield? Alass,
You fight not now with a Neritian Race.
Their Souldiers in the Camp are Bred, and Born,
And, e're the Down appear, their Cheeks are worn
With Brasen Helmets: Ease, and Rest's unknown
To Aged Men, who Pale, and Bloodless grown,
In the continued Service of the State,
In Fronts of Battails do provoke their Fate.
My self have Romanes seen, who pierced through
Their Bodies, from their Wounds their weapons drew,
And turn'd them on the Fo: their Valour I
Have seen, and thirst of Honour, when they dy.
If therefore, Carthage, thou decline this War,
Nor give thy Self up to the Conquerour,
How much of Mischief may prevented be,
And how much Blood shall Hanno save for Thee?
Thus He: but Gestar, whose full Breast the while
With Anger, and Impatience, did boyl,
Who twice to Interrupt him had essay'd,
Replies. Is then a Romane Souldier made
One of the Libyan Councils, and must He
A Member of the Tyrian Senate be?
'Tis true, he is not Arm'd; but, well I know,
In all things else, he is a perfect Fo.
Us with the Snowy Alps, and horrid Height
Of lofty Apennine, he would affright,
With raging Seas, and Waves of Scylla's Coast:
Nor wants it much, but he a Romane Ghost
Still dreads; their wounds, and Deaths, he so doth praise,
And to the Stars an Humane Race doth raise.
Trust Me; though some cold Hearts with Fear may be
Possess'd, we have a mortal Enemy.
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Ev'n I beheld their Regulus, the Hope
Of the Hectorean Race, their strongest Prop,
His Hands enchain'd behind, with publick Joy,
Into a Dungeon drag'd, ne'r seen by Day:
I saw, when Crucified, from the high Oak,
He, hanging, on Hesperia did look.
Nor doth the Face of Boys, that Helmets wear,
A cause of Terrour unto Me appear;
Or, that their Cheeks with early Casks are worn:
We are not of a Race so sluggish born.
How many Libyan Troops their Years, in Deeds
Of Arms, out-go, and War on Naked Steeds.
The General, so soon as He could speak,
At th'Altar vow'd, this War to undertake:
To waste with Flames the Phrygian People, and
His Father's Arms resolv'd to take in Hand.
Ev'n in thy Sight (vile Hanno) he shall be
Revenger of the Romane Crueltie.
Then let the Alps encrease, and let them joyn
To Heav'n their shining Heads, with Apennine.
Yet I dare say (though vainest Fears do finde
Their Influence upon a guilty Mind)
Ev'n through those Rocks, and Snows, nay through the Stars,
His way he'l make, and scorn to think them Bars,
Which Hercules or'ecame, or to despair
Of second Honour. But the former War,
Its Devastations, and the Miseries
Of Libya, Hanno, vainly, amplifies:
Nor would, that we should undertake, and try
Again, these Labours, for our Liberty.
But let him lay those Throws of Fear aside;
And with the Women, safe at home, abide,
And save his sighing Soul: we, Fathers, we,
(It is Decree'd) will meet the Enemy;
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And from thy Walls (dear Carthage) far remove
The Tyran Romanes, in despight of Jove.
But if the Fates resist, and Mars give way,
That Tyrian Byrsa, be condemn'd this Day,
I'le rather choose to Die, then give up Thee
(Dear Country) to Eternal Slavery,
And go with Freedom to the Shades below:
For as to that (Good Gods) which Fabius now
Demands, that we lay down our Arms, and qu i
Sagunthus, when our Troops have conquer'd it.
Then Burn your Targets, let your Navy be
Consum'd in Flames, and wholly quit the Sea.
But if our Carthage hath not merited
To feel such things, as these, ye, Gods, forbid
This Wickedness! oh, let our Generals hands
Be free, and not bound up in peacefull Bands.
This said, he silent sate, as custom was:
The Senate streight proceed their Votes to pass,
While Hanno urgeth to restore the Spoils
Of War, and add's the Authour of those Broils.
With that the Fathers, leaping from their Seats,
Amazd, as if the Fo were at the Gates
O'th' Temple, Pray the Gods, that it may be
A Fatal Omen unto Italy.
Fabius, perceiving that their thoughts were far
From Peace, and, treacherously, enclin'd to War,
No longer able to conceal his Ire,
With speed another Council doth require:
And to th'assembled Fathers doth Declare,
That in his Bosom he brought Peace, or War,
Demands their Choice, that, Him they would no more
Detain, with dubious Answers, as before.
But, when no Choice of either they exprest,
(As if he'd powr'd whole Armies from his Breast,)
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Take then a War (said He) (with that let's fall
His folded Garment) take a War, which shall
To Lybia, like the former, fatall be,
In its Events. This said, incensed, He
The Temple, and the City quit's, and home
Returns, a Messenger of War to Rome.
While such at Carthage was the State of things:
Fierce Hannibal, enrich'd with Trophies, brings
Again his Arms before Sagunthus Walls,
And, to his Aid, those many Nations calls,
Whose Faith to Rome was shaken by the Fear
Of dubious War; while they continued there,
The People, that inhabited the Coast,
Presents (the best Callaick Art could boast)
Brought to the General. A shining Shield,
That Beams, like Lightning terrible, did yield.
An Helmet on whose rising Crest, a Plume
Did tremble, and in Whiteness overcome
The Alpine Snow. With them a Sword, and Spear
Which afterwards to thousands Fatall were:
With treble Chains of Gold, a Coat of Mail,
Studded, 'gainst which no Weapon could prevail.
These made of Brass, and harder Steel, inlay'd
With Tagus Wealth, triumphing, he survey'd,
And in the Carved Works was pleas'd to see
His Nations happy Birth, and History.
Dido, the first Foundation there did lay,
Of Carthage: and, her Navy sent away,
The Work begun, th'industrious Youth pursu'd.
Some with long Piles, and Banks, the Port include:
To others Reverend Bitias prepares
Their Houses Platforms, all in equal shares.
And, as they turned up the Fertile Ground,
A Warlike Horses Head, by chance, they found.
44

The Omen, with an universal Shout
Of Joy, they all appeared to Salute.
Among these Figures sad Æneas stands,
Wrack'd on her Coasts, and with extended Hands,
Deprived of his Fleet, and Friends, is seen
To crave Assistance. Him th'unhappy Queen
Views with an earnest Eye, and Entertains
With Smiles: for Love within her Bosom Reigns.
Then they Describ'd the Cave, and secret Rites,
The Lovers us'd to warrant their Delights.
Mean while the Cries of Men, and Dogs, appear
To Strike the Marble Sky; till suddain Fear,
Of an Impetuous Storm, the Hunters all
Constrain'd, for Shelter, into Woods to fall.
Not far from these, upon the Empty Shore,
Eliza Weeps, and did, in Vain, implore
The Trojan-Fleet's return, that now to Sea
Had hois'd up Sails, and bore her Love away.
Then on a lofty Pile, at last, She stands,
Wounded; and to the Tyrians commands
Revenging Wars: the Trojan Prince, the while,
Beholding, from the Sea, the flaming Pile,
To the propitious Fates his Sails doth spread,
Resolv'd to Follow, wheresoe're they Lead.
Apart from these, at Stygian Altars, stood
Young Hannibal (a Childe) who secret Blood
Offer'd, with the infernal Priest; and there
The War against Æneas Race did swear.
But Old Amilcar's Image seem'd to be
Alive, and Triumph over Sicily:
You'd think he breath'd forth War; within his Eys
A Flame of Terrour, with grim Aspect, lies.
Upon the left Side of the Shield, a Band
Of Spartans, with their ragged Ensigns, stand:
45

Whom Bold Xantippus, as a Conqu'rour, led,
From fair Amycle, fam'd by Læda's Bed.
Near these, hung Regulus, their sad Renown,
Upon a Cross; and, to the trembling Town,
Faith's great Example was. A joyfull Face
Of Things adorns the rest: where some the Chace
Of Beasts pursue, and carved Houses shine.
Not far remote from them, with parched Skin,
The black-Moor's Sister, in an horrid Dress,
Tames, with her Country's Speech, a Lyoness.
Then, through the Fields the wandring Shepherd moves
Free without Stop, through unforbidden Groves:
Near them his Dart, and (whom he Cydon names)
His barking Dog, his Cottage, and hid Flames
In Veins of Flint; then, lively, they exprest
His Pipe, familiar to the lab'ring Beast.
Then on a lofty Hill Sagunthus stands,
And by unnumbred Nations, and Bands
Of Fighting men, Besieged-round appears,
And to be push'd at, by their trembling Spears.
About the Borders, rich Iberus seems
To make the Circle up, with winding Streams:
Over whose Banks fierce Hannibal, from far,
Calls Africk-People to the Romane War.
On his broad Shoulders, as he, smiling, tries
These wealthy Presents; proudly, thus, he cries.
In how much Romane Blood shall I imbrue
These Arms? with how great Punishments pursue
That Gowned Senate; that themselves do make
Revengers of the War we undertake?
Now in the Siege the Fo grows old, a Day
Concludes the Citie's Fate; while, weary, they
Their forein Aids expect: but, now, no more
They look upon the Seas, or helpless Shore;
46

Perceiving Deaths approach, with sad Despair:
For their parch'd Entrails, the Contagious Air
Enflames, while Famine in their Bowels reigns,
And dries the Blood, in their contracted Veins.
From their faln Cheeks, their sinking Eyes, within
Their Heads retire, and through the shrivled Skin
The Bones, and ill-knit Joints (a wofull Sight)
With Nervs, consum'd, appear; the Dew of Night,
Some gather from the Earth, to quench the Fire
Of thirst, and some themselves do vainly tire
For Liquour, while they hardest Oaks do bruise;
Their rav'ning Hunger, which doth nought refuse,
Compels them to strange Food. From Shields they tare
The Hides to feed upon, and leave them bare.
These Ruins of his Citie from the Skie,
Alcides look'd on, with a mournfull Eye,
But all in vain; for him the strict command,
And fear of his great Father Jove withstand,
That he should nothing act 'gainst the Decree
Of his severe Step-Mother. Therefore He,
Concealing his Design, to Faith repairs,
Who in the farthest part of Heav'n, the Cares
Of Deities revolv'd: thus, at her Shrine
He tries Her Counsels: Thou great Power Divine!
Born before Jove himself: who art the Grace,
And Honour both of Gods, and Humane Race,
Consort of Justice, without whom nor Seas,
Nor Earth, can know the benefit of Peace;
A Goddess (where thou art) in every Breast!
Canst thou behold Sagunthus, thus opprest,
Unmov'd? That Citie, which, for Thee alone,
So many, so great ills, hath undergone?
For Thee the People dy, upon Thee, all,
Men, Women, Children, that can speak, do call,
47

By Famine overcome: from Heaven relieve
Their sad Estate, and some Assistance give.
Thus He; To whom the Heav'nly Maid again
Replies. I see all this, nor is't in vain,
That thus my Leagues infringed are: a Day
Shall come, Alcides, that shall sure repay,
With Vengance these their dire Attempts. But I
Was forc'd from the polluted Earth to fly,
To seek, in Jove's blest Mansions, a Place,
Free from the num'rous Frauds of Humane Race.
I left their Tyrans, that their Scepters hold,
Fearing, as they are Fear'd: that Fury, Gold,
The vile Reward of Treacheries, I left,
And above all, the Men, who now bereft
Of all Humanity, like Beasts by Spoil,
And Rapine, live, while Honour is the Foil
To Luxury, and Modesty by Night,
And her dark Crimes opprest, avoids the Light,
The place of Right, the too imperious Sword
Doth arrogate; and Force alone's Ador'd:
Vertue gives way to Vice; for look upon
The Nations of the Earth, and there is none
Is Innocent; their frequent Fellowship
In Crimes, alone, the Common Peace doth keep.
But that these Walls, erected by thy Hand,
May in the Book of Fame for ever stand,
By an End worthy Thee, and that they may
Not give their Bodies up a Captive Prey,
To the Proud African (which, onely, now
The Fates, and State of Future things allow)
The Honour of their Death will I extend
Beyond the pow'r of Fate, and them commend,
As Patterns, to Posterity, and go,
With their prais'd Souls, unto the Shades below.
48

This said; The constant Virgin, through the Air,
Descends, and to Sagunthus doth repair,
Then strugling with the Fates: through ev'ry Breast
She goes, invades their Minds, which, all-possest
By her great Deitie, each Soul doth prove
Her Altar, burning by her Sacred Love.
Now, as if Strong again, for Arms they cry,
And in the Fight their weak Endeavours try.
Strength, above Hope, they find, while the sweet Name,
And Honour, of the Goddess doth inflame
Their Hearts; resolved, for her Sake, to dye,
And suffer things, far worse then Death; to try
The Food of Savage Beasts, and Crimes to add
To their Repast: but them chaste Faith forbad
Longer, with so much Guilt, to view the Day,
Or with Man's Flesh their Hunger to allay.
Her when Saturnia (who by chance came down
Into the Libyan Camp) within the Town,
(Which she so hated) saw, she doth upbraid
The Virgin's Courage, and the War she made.
Then in a Rage, with troubled Steps she went
To that dire Fury, that doth still torment
The guilty Souls, and thus upon her calls,
With Hands extended. Strike (said she) those Walls,
Thou Darling of the Night, let thy fell Hands
Destroy that People, 'tis Juno commands;
My self, within a Cloud, will here stand by,
And see the Issue of thy Industry.
Those Weapons, which sometimes immortal Jove
Disturb, by which thou Acheron dost move,
Thy Flames of Sulphure, and thy hideous-Snakes
In Curls, thy horrid Voice, which silent makes
Hell's Triple-headed Porter, and let fall
From's Jaws his poys'nous Spume, commixt with Gall:
49

What Plagues, and Mischief, what Impiety
Soe're within thy fruitful Breast do lie
Upon these hated Rutuli throw down,
And let Sagunthus sink to Acheron;
Thus let their peevish Faith rewarded be.
Incited by these words, Tisiphone
Invades the Walls, then, round about, the Hill
Trembles, and roaring Waves the Shore do fill.
Innumerable Serpents, on her Head
Hissing, her tumid Neck, and Breast, or'espread.
Death, walking with her, his wide Jaws extends,
On whom pale Sorrow, and black Grief attends.
All Plagues were present, that created were,
While Cerberus with howling rends the Air.
Forthwith she counterfeits Tyburna's Face,
Her Voice, her Speech, her Gesture, and her Pace.
Tyburna, of a Noble Race, deriv'd,
Her Blood from Daunus, and by War depriv'd
Of her dear Husband, Murrus, then bewail'd
Her Widdowed Bed. The Fury having vail'd
Her self, with her sad Countenance, her Hair
Dishevel'd, to the Assembly doth repair,
And tearing there her Cheeks, What end (said she)
Of our great Faith, and Citie, shall we see?
I have my Murrus seen, who, every Night,
Doth me, with his yet gaping Wounds, affright,
And lamentably, thus, on me doth call,
Flie, my Tyburna, Flie this Citie's Fall.
Or if the Conqu'ring Libyan deny
The Earth to thee, to me, Tyburna, flie.
Our Gods are faln, and we (poor Rutuli)
Are lost, the Punick Sword doth all enjoy:
I tremble, and his Ghost, as yet, before
Mine Eyes, me-thinks, appears. Shall I no more
50

Thy Stately Palaces, Sagunthus, see?
Happy my Murrus was, thrice happy He,
Who saw his Countrey standing, when he fell!
But us Victorious Carthage will compell,
(After so many Miseries of War,
And Dangers of the Sea) their Yoak to bear,
And serve Sidonian Ladies, and to lie,
Captives in Libya's Bosom, when we die.
But you, whose conscious Valour doth deny,
(O brave young Men!) a possibility
To be made Captives: to whom Death will be
A certain Guard against all Misery;
With your own Hands, your Mothers now redeem,
From Slavery. True Virtue gets Esteem
From hardest things. Go on, that Praise to gain,
Which, hardly, meaner People can obtain.
With this sad Language having fill'd their Ears,
The Fury to an antient Tomb repairs,
Which on the Hill was built by Hercules,
A Land-Mark unto such as Plough'd those Seas,
By him adorned with all Sacred Rites.
Come thither, from the Bottom she excites
(A Sight of Terrour) a Cærulean Snake,
With Spots of Gold upon his Sealy Back;
His shining Eyes are fill'd with bloody Flames:
And (to increase the Terrour of those Beams)
He hisseth loud, and shakes his forked Tongue,
And then, with Speed, into the trembling Throng
Of Citizens he glides, and from the Walls,
Into the midst of all the Citie, falls.
Thence like a Fugitive he makes his way
To th'Shore, and drown's himself i'th' foaming Sea.
Then all distracted are; and, as betrayd,
Its silent Mansion ev'ry frighted Shade
51

Fled, and refus'd to stay in Conquer'd Ground.
And, now, Despair of Safety doth confound
Their troubled thoughts: they, now, their Meats detest,
And mad Erinnys Reigns in ev'ry Breast.
Nor is the Wrath of Heav'n, which they endure,
More grievous, then the sad Delays of sure,
And certain Death. They all contend their Fate
To meet, with Speed, and longer Life do hate.
Amidst the City, by the Industry
Of all the People, raised to the Skie,
There stood a lofty Pile; to which they bear,
And drag, their Riches, that congested were
In long-continued Peace. Their Wealth, acquir'd
By their own Hands, and stately Robes admir'd
For Art, embroid'red with Callaick Gold
By Skilfull Matrons; and their Arms, of old,
Brought from Dulichian Zacynthus, by
Their Grand-fires; and those Gods, the Rutuli
Took from their antient Abodes; with all,
They could their own, as yet, Unconquer'd, call:
Their Shields, and hapless Swords, and what within
The Earth, in time of War, had buried been,
Again digg'd up, they add unto the Pile,
Glad, with themselves, to burn the Conqu'rour's Spoil.
When these the Fury saw together heap'd,
She shakes her Lamp of Sulphur, lately steep'd
In burning Phlegethon, and drives away,
By Stygian Darkness, the affrighted Day.
Then they began the Work, whose sad Renown
Their Memories, with lasting Fame, shall Crown,
Through all the World, and them Unconquer'd call.
For, prompted by Erinnys (Chief of all)
Scorning Delays, they all, with Triumph, prest
Th'unwilling Swords into each others Breast.
52

Then thrice the Stroaks of her Infernal Whip
Sound sadly through the Citie; while they dip,
In Blood of Kindred, their unwilling Hands;
And ev'ry Man, with thoughts of Horrour, stands
Amaz'd at what he Acts, and doth bemoan,
With Floods of Tears, the Mischief, that is done.
This, mad with Rage, and sense of Misery
So long endur'd, Obliquely turns his Eye
Upon his Mother's Breast: whilst that invades
His dear Wive's neck with's Ax; then, streight, upbraids
Himself, and, check'd with Horrour, doth survey
What he's about to do; then flings away
The Weapon 'midst his Rage: yet cannot she
Escape; for streight the Blows redoubled be
By Fierce Erinnys: who through all appears,
And, with her Breath, inspireth horrid Fears.
Thus in the Husband Nuptial Love doth dye;
Those sweet Delights are lost, and Memory
Of Hymeneal Tapers. Then, at length,
The mangled Corps he throws, with all his Strength,
Upon the Pile: whence a dark Pyramis
Of Smoak, like a black Storm, doth waving rise.
But thou, Tymbrenus, with unhappy Rage,
And Piety Sinister, dost engage,
Amidst the Throng; hasting t'Anticipate
The Carthaginians, in thy Father's Fate:
Wounding that Face, and Members, that were known,
In all things, to resemble so thine Own.
And you, Lycormas, and Eurymedon,
Twins, so alike in Form, that both were one,
Who labour'd in your Sons to propagate
Your Names, and Forms, here sadly met your Fate,
In prime of Age. But Thee that Sword, from Guilt,
Absolves; which, through thy Throat transfixed, spilt
53

Thy Blood, Eurymedon: while, with her Woes
Distracted, and deceiv'd, Oh! whither goes
My dear Lycormas, your sad Mother cryes?
Here turn thy Sword. And, as Lycormas dies
By his own Hand, She, by the Marks, again,
Of his Twin-shape, deceiv'd, exclaims in vain;
Whither, Eurymedon, doth Rage thee lead?
Thus she, with changed Names, invokes the Dead:
Till, to her trembling Breast the Sword apply'd,
On her ambiguous Sons, she, Frantick, dy'd.
This noble Citie's horrid Miseries,
Their Punishments for Faith, and Prodigies
Renown'd, with their sad Acts of Piety;
Who can relate, without a weeping Eye?
Scarce could the Punick Camp, and cruel Foe,
Forbear their Pitty, in their Tears, to shew.
That Citie, Faith's most antient abode,
The Authour of whose Walls was held a God,
By the Sidonians treach'rous Arms doth fall,
And their Fore-Fathers mighty Actions all,
By the unequal Gods, neglected are;
While Fire, and Sword, consumes them ev'ry where
That Place, that wants a Flame, is impious held;
And Clouds of Smoak, with pitchy Darkness, swell'd
Up to the very Stars: At length, the Tower,
That stood upon the Hill, by all the Power,
Of War, till then, untouch'd (from whence the Shore,
And Carthaginian Camp, they us'd t'explore,
And all Sagunthus) with those bless'd Abodes
On Earth, the Sacred Temples of the Gods,
Now sinks in Flames; whose Image, from the Main,
By Waves, that seem to burn, 's return'd again.
But now, behold! Tyburna, 'midst the Heat,
And Rage of Slaughter, most unfortunate,
54

Arm'd with her Husband's Sword, in her right-Hand,
Her left a flaming Taper waving, and
Her Hair dishev'l'd, her Breasts made black, and blew,
With Stroaks of Grief, and to the publick View
Expos'd with naked Arms, to Murrus Tomb,
O're Heaps of mangled Carcases, doth come.
As when, tormenting Souls, th'Infernal King,
With Groans, like Thunder, makes his Courts to ring,
Alecto at his Throne doth strait appear,
To act his Will, and Plagues administer.
Her Husband's Arms, that lately with much Blood
Defended were, as then shee weeping stood,
Upon the Tomb she lays, and, having pray'd
Th'Elysian Ghosts to entertain her Shade,
She puts the flaming Taper underneath,
And willing to accelerate her Death,
These, in the other World, my Self (said She)
My dearest Murrus, will convey to Thee.
Then, taking up the Sword, her self she lai'd
Upon his Arms, and gaping did invade
The rising Flames, Dispersed on the Ground,
Promiscuous Heaps of half-burnt Bodies, round
About her ly, unhappy Funerals!
As when a Lyon, fierce with Hunger, falls
On trembling Flocks, which greedily he eats,
With Thirsty Jaws, and Blood regurgitates
From his extended Throat, or'e mangled Heaps
Of half-devour'd Trunks, and Limbs, he leaps;
Then walking round them, with a murm'ring Noise,
Grinding his Teeth, surveys what he destroys:
The Sheep, and Guardian-Dog, the Company
Of Shepheards, with the Master, prostrate ly,
And all the Cottages, as if a War
Had late been there, destroy'd, and wasted, are.
55

And now the Carthaginians do invade
The City, by these Ruins empty made.
This Work, which glad Saturnia commends,
Perform'd, to Hell Tisiphone descends,
And with her, as in Triumph, proudly takes
A num'rous Troop, to the Infernal Lakes.
But you, bless'd Souls! who cannot equal'd be
By any Age, since Time's Nativity,
May you the Glory of the Earth become,
And, happy Dwellers in Elysium,
Adorn the chaster Seats of pious Souls!
But you, whom unjust Victory enrolls,
In Fame's large Catalogue, ye Nations, hear;
Break not the Leagues of Peace, nor Crowns more dear,
Then Faith esteem. Cast from his Countrey, He
A wandring Exile, through the World, shall be;
And Carthage, trembling, shall behold him Flie,
While, in his troubled Sleeps, affrighted by
Sagunthine Ghosts, He'll wish he there had dy'd
By them: and, when a Sword shall be deny'd,
This great unconquer'd Captain then shall go,
Deform'd by Poyson, to the Shades below.
The End of the Second Book.
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