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Part of the Fourth Book of VIRGIL'S
Beginning at V. 437.
**** Talefque miferrima fletus
Fertque refertque foror. ***
And ending with
Adnixi torquent spumas, & cærula verrunt.
LL this her weeping * fister does repeat
To the + ftern man, whom nothing could intreat ; Lost were her pray’rs, and fruitless were her tears ! Fate, and great Jove, had stop'd his gentle ears. As when loud winds a well-grown oak would rend Up by the roots, this way, and that, they bend His reeling trunk; and with a boilt'rous found Scatter his leaves, and strew them on the ground : He fixed stands ; as deep his root doth lie Down to the centre, as his top is high : No less on ev'ry fide the Heroe prest, Feels love, and pity, shake his noble breast; And down his cheeks tho’ fruitless tears do roul, Unmov'd remains the purpose of his soul. Then Dido, urged with approaching fate, Begins the light of cruel heav'n to hate : Her resolution to dispatch, and die, Confirm'd by many a horrid prodigy! The water, consecrate for facrifice, Appears all black to her amazed eyes:
The wine to putrid blood converted flows,
Which from her none, not her own fifter, knows,
Besides, there stood, as facred to her * Lord,
A marble temple which she much ador'd;
With snowy fleeces, and fresh garlands, crown'd:
Hence ev'ry night proceeds a dreadful found;
Her husband's voice invites her to his tomb:
And dismal owls presage the ills to come.
Besides, the prophesies of wizards old
Increas'd her terror, and her fall foretold:
Scorn'd, and deserted, to herself she seems ;
And finds Æne AS cruel in her dreams.
So, to mad PENTHE U S, double Thebe s appears ;
And Furies howl in his distemper'd ears.
ORE STE S so, with like distraction tost,
Is made to fly his mother's angry ghost.
Now grief, and fury, to their height arrive;
Death the decrees, and thus does it contrive.
Her grieved fister, with a chearful grace,
(Hope well-dissembled shining in her face)
She thus deceives. Dear fifter! let us prove
The cure I have invented for
love. Beyond the land of ÆTHIOPIA, lies The place where Atlas does support the skies : Hence came an old magician that did keep Th’HESPERIAN fruit, and made the dragon sleep: Her potent charms do troubled fouls relieve, And, where she lists, makes calmest minds to grieve: The course of rivers, and of heav'n, can stop, And call trees down from th' airy mountain's top. Witness, ye Gods! and thou, my dearest part! How loth I am to tempt this guilty art. * Sichæus.
Erect a pile, and on it let us place
That bed, where I my ruin did embrace :
With all the reliques of our impious guest,
Arms, spoils, and presents, let the pile be dreft ;
(The knowing-woman thus prescribes) that we
May rase the man out of our memory.
Thus fpeaks the Queen, but hides the fatal end
For which she doth these sacred rites pretend.
Nor worse effects of grief her fifter thought
Would follow, than SiciÆU s' murder wrought ;
Therefore obeys her: and now, heaped high
The cloven oaks, and lofty pines, do lie;
Hung all with wreaths, and flow'ry garlands round;
So by herself was her own fun’ral crown'd !
Upon the top the TROJAN's image lies,
And his sharp sword, wherewith anon she dies.
They by the altar ftand, while with loose hair
The magic prophetess begins her pray'r:
On CHAOS, ERIBUS, and all the Gods,
Which in th' infernal fhades have their abodes,
She loudly calls; besprinkling all the room
With drops, suppos'd from LETH E 's lake to come.
She seeks the knot which on the forehead grows
Of new-foal'd colts, and herbs by moon-light mows.
A cake of leaven in her pious hands
Holds the devoted Queen, and barefoot stands :
One tender foot was bare, the other shod,
Her robe ungirt, invoking ev'ry God,
And ev'ry Pow'r; if any be above,
Which takes regard of ill-requited love!
Now was the time, when weary mortals steep
Their careful temples in the dew of SLEEP:
On seas, on earth, and all that in them dwell,
A death-like quiet, and deep filence fell :
But not on Dido! whose untamed mind
Refus'd to be by sacred night confin'd:
A double paffion in her breaft does move,
Love, and fierce anger for neglected love.
Thus the afflicts her soul : What fhall I do?
With fate inverted, fhall I humbly woo?
And some proud Prince, in wild NUMIDI A born,
Pray to accept me, and forget my scorn ?
Or, shall I with th' ungrateful TROJAN go,
Quit all my ftate, and wait upon my foe?
Is not enough, by fad experience! known
The perjur'd race of false LAOMEDON?
With my SIDONIAN S shall I give them chase,
Bands hardly forced from their native place?
No,--dye! and let this fword thy fury tame;
Nought but thy blood can quench this guilty flame,
Ah fifter! vanquish'd with my passion, thou
Betray’dst me first, dispenfing with my vow.
Had I been constant to SICHÆUS still,
And single liv’d, I had not known this ill!
Such thoughts torment the Queen's inraged breast,
While the DARDANIAN does securely rest
In his tall fhip, for sudden flight prepar'd;
To whom once more the son of Jove appear'd ;
Thus seems to speak the youthful Deity,
Voice, hair, and color, all like MERCURY.
Fair Venus' feed! can'ít thou indulge thy sleep, Nor better guard in such great danger keep? Mad, by neglect to lose fo fair a wind ! If here thy ships the purple morning find,
Thou shalt behold this hoftile harbour shine
With a new feet, and fires, to ruin thine;
She meditates revenge, resolv'd to dye;
Weigh anchor quickly, and her fury fly.
This faid, the God in shades of night retir'd.
Amaz'd ÆNEAS, with the warning fir'd,
Shakes off dull sleep, and rouzing up his Men,
Behold! the Gods command' our flight again :
Fall to your oars, and all your canvas spread:
What God foe'er that thus vouchfaf'ft to lead,
We follow gladly, and thy will obey,
Aflift us ftill smoothing our happy way,
And make the rest propitious !With that word,
He cuts the cable with his shining sword :
Thro' all the navy doth like ardor reign,
They quit the shore, and rush into the main :
Plac'd on their banks, the lusty TROJAN S sweep
Neptune's smooth face, and cleave the yielding deep.
On the PICTURE of a Fair Youth, taken
after he was Dead.
S gather'd flowers, while their wounds are new,
Look gay, and fresh, as on the stalk they grew ;. Torn from the root that nourish'd them, a while. (Not taking notice of their fate) they smile; And, in the hand which rudely pluck’d them, show Fairer than those that to their autumn grow : So love, and beauty, still that visage grace ; Death cannot fright them from their wonted place.