Medulla Poetarum Romanorum Or, the Most Beautiful and Instructive Passages of the Roman Poets. Being a Collection, (Disposed under proper Heads,) Of such Descriptions, Allusions, Comparisons, Characters, and Sentiments, as may best serve to shew the Religion, Learning, Politicks, Arts, Customs, Opinions, Manners, and Circumstances of the Antients. With Translations of the same in English Verse. By Mr. Henry Baker |
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Request Dying.
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 | Medulla Poetarum Romanorum |  |
Request Dying.
See Dying.
Now at Death's Door, she spent and fainting lay,And these few Words had only Strength to say:
By all the sacred Bonds of plighted Love!
By all your Rev'rence to the Pow'rs above!
By all that made me charming once appear!
By ev'ry Thing for which you held me dear!
And last, by Love, the Cause thro' which I bleed,
Let Aura never to my Bed succeed!—
Now strike,
she said: now spill my noble Blood:
Deep in my Breast, or Throat (for I'm prepar'd,)
Your Dagger plunge:—and then her Breast she bar'd.
But let not the rude Hand of Man pollute
A Virgin Victim: 'tis a modest Suit.
It best will please, whoe'er demands my Blood,
That freely, and untouch'd I reach the Stygian Flood.
Yet let one short, last, dying Pray'r be heard;
To Priam's Daughter pay this last Regard:
'Tis Priam's Daughter, not a Captive, sues:
Do not the Rites of Sepulture refuse.
To my afflicted Mother, I implore,
Free, without Ransom, my dead Corps restore:
Nor barter me for Gain, when I am cold,
But be her Tears the Price, if I am sold;
Time was, she could have ransom'd me with Gold.
Deep in my Breast, or Throat (for I'm prepar'd,)
Your Dagger plunge:—and then her Breast she bar'd.
But let not the rude Hand of Man pollute
A Virgin Victim: 'tis a modest Suit.
It best will please, whoe'er demands my Blood,
That freely, and untouch'd I reach the Stygian Flood.
Yet let one short, last, dying Pray'r be heard;
To Priam's Daughter pay this last Regard:
'Tis Priam's Daughter, not a Captive, sues:
Do not the Rites of Sepulture refuse.
To my afflicted Mother, I implore,
Free, without Ransom, my dead Corps restore:
Nor barter me for Gain, when I am cold,
But be her Tears the Price, if I am sold;
Time was, she could have ransom'd me with Gold.
Thus as she pray'd, one common Show'r of Tears
Burst forth, and stream'd from ev'ry Eye but her's.
Ev'n the Priest wept: and with a deep Remorse
Plung'd in her Heart the Steel's resistless Force.
Her slacken'd Limbs sink gently to the Ground,
Dauntless her Looks, unalter'd by the Wound.
And as she fell, she strove, with decent Pride,
To hide what suits a Virgin's Care to hide.—
Burst forth, and stream'd from ev'ry Eye but her's.
Ev'n the Priest wept: and with a deep Remorse
Plung'd in her Heart the Steel's resistless Force.
Her slacken'd Limbs sink gently to the Ground,
Dauntless her Looks, unalter'd by the Wound.
301
To hide what suits a Virgin's Care to hide.—
(If aught of Grace remain for vanquish'd Foes)
Permit my Corps to be interr'd: I know
The Malice of my Subjects hovers round:
Forbid that Outrage: let me share a Grave,
Joyn'd to my Son, and rest with him in Death.—
His Eyes: And, stretching out his Hand, 'Tis true,
I have deserv'd, He cry'd: Nor will I strive
To deprecate: Enjoy thy Fortune's Gift.
Yet Oh! if aught a wretched Parent's Care
Can touch thy Soul (Thou too hadst such a Sire
The old Anchises) pity Daunus' Age:
And, whether living, or despoil'd of Breath,
(Thine be that Choice) restore me to my Friends.—
| Medulla Poetarum Romanorum | |