Sylvæ, or, The second part of Poetical miscellanies

THE EPISODE Of the Death of CAMILLA Translated out of the Eleventh Book of Virgils Aeneids; By Mr. STAFFORD.

ON Death and wounds Camilla looks with joy, Freed from a Breast, the fiercer to destroy. Now, thick as hail, her fatal darts she flings; The two edg'd Axe now on their Helmets rings,

Her shoulders bore Diana's arms and bow: And if, too strongly prest, she fled before a foe, Her shafts, revers'd, did death and horror bear, And found the rash; who durst pursue the fair. Near her fierce Tulla, and Tarpeia ride, And bold Larina conquering by her side. These above all Camilla's breast did share; For Faith in peace, and gallantry in War. Such were the Thracian, Amazonian bands, When first they dy'd with blood Thermodoons sands, Such Troops Hippolita her self did head, And such the bold Penthe••ilea led, When Female shouts alarm'd the trembling fields, And glaring beams shot bright, from Maiden shields.

Who gallant Virgin, who by thee were slain? What gasping numbers strew'd upon the Plain?

Thy Spear first through Eumenius passage found; Whole torrents gush'd out of his mouth and wound; VVith gnashing Teeth, in pangs, the Earth he tore, And rowl'd himself, half delug'd, in his gore.

Then hapless Pagasus, and Lyris bleed: The latter reining up his fainting Steed; The first as to his aid he stretch'd his hand, Both at an instant, headlong, struck the sand. Her Arm Amastrus next, and Tereas feel. Then follows Chromis with her lifted Steel. Of all her Q••iver not a shaft was lost, But each attended by a Trojan Ghost. Strong Orphi••us, (in Arms unknown before,) In Battle, an Apulian courser bore. His br••wny back wrapt in a Bullocks skin, Upon his head a VVolf did fiercely grin,

Above the rest his mighty Shoulders show, And he looks down upon the Troops below: Him (and 'twas easie, while his fellows fled) She struck along, and thus she triumph'd while he bled. Some Coward Game thou didst believe to chace, But, Hunter, see a Woman stops thy race. Yet to requireing Ghosts this Glory bear, Thy Soul was yielded to Camilla's Spear.

The mighty Butes next receives her lance, (While Breast to breast the Combatants advance,) Clanging between his armours joynts it rung While on his Arm his useless Target hung.

Then from Or••••lochus, in Circle runs, And follows the pursuer, while she shun••.

For still with craft a narrow ring she wheels, And bring•• herself up to the Chase••s heels. Her Axe regardless of his Prayers and groans, She crashes thro' his Armour, and his bones. Redoubled stroakes the vanquish'd Foe sustains, His ••eeking face bespatter'd with his brains.

Chance brought unhappy Aunus to the place: Who stopping short, star'd wildly in her face. Of all to whom Liguria fraud imparts, While fate allow'd that fraud, he was of subtlest Arts; Who, when he saw he cou••d not shun the Fight, Strives to avoid the Virgin, by his slight. And crys aloud, what courage can you shew, By cunning horsemanship, to cheat a foe? Forego your horse and strive not to betray. But dare to combat a more equal way.

'Tis thus we see who merits glory best. So brav'd, fierce indignation fires her breast, Dismounted from her horse, in open field, Now, first she draws her sword, and lifts her Sheild. He, thinking that his cunning did succeed, Reins round his Horse, and urges all his speed, His golden rowel's hidden in his sides: When thus his useless fraud the Maid derides: Poor Wretch, that swell'st with a deluding pride, In vain thy Countries little Arts are try'd. No more the Coward shall behold his Sire, Then plies her feet, quick as the nimble sire, And up before his horses head she strains; When, seizing, with a furious hand, his reins, She wreaks her fury on his spouting veins. So, from a Rock, a Hawk soars high above, And in a Cloud with ease o'retakes a Dove.

His pounces so the grappled foe assail; And Blood and feathers mingle in a hall.

Now Iove, to whom mankind is still in sight, With more than usual care beholds the fight. And urging Tarcho•• on, to rage inspires The furious deeds to which his blood he fires. He spurs through slaughter, and his failing Troops, And with his voice lifts every arm that droops. He shouts his name in every Souldiers ears: Reviling thus the spirits, which he cheares.

Ye sham'd, and ever branded Tyrrhene Race, From whence this terrour, and your Soul's so ••ase▪ When tender Virgins triupmh in the field, Let every brawny arm, let fall his sheild, And break the Coward sword he dare not weild.

Not thus you flie the daring she by night; Nor Goblets, that your drunken throats invite. This is your choice, when with lewd Bacchanals, Y're call'd by the fat Sacrifice, it waits not when it calls. Thus having said, — He Spurs, with headlong rage, among his Foes, As if he only had his life to lose. And meeting Venulus his arms he clasps; The armour dints beneath the furious grasps. High from his Horse the sprawling Foe he rears, And thwart his Coursers neck the prize he bears. The Trojans shout, the Latines turn their eyes; While swift as lightning airy Tarchon flies. Who breaks his lance, and veiws his armour round, To find where he might fix the deadly wound; The Foe writhes doubling backward on the horse, And to defend his throat opposes force to force.

As when an Eagle high his course does take, And in his gripeing tallons, bears a Snake, A thousand folds the Serpent casts and high Setting his speckled Scales, goes whistling thro' the skie, The fearless Bird, but deeper goars his prey, And thro' the Clouds he cuts his airy way, So from the midst of all his enemies, Triumphant Tarchon snatch'd and bore his prize. The Troops, that shrunk, with emulation, press To reach his danger now, to reach at his success.

Then Aruns doom'd, in spight of all his art, Surrounds the nimble Virgin with his dart. And, slily watching for his time, would try To joyn his safety with his treachery. Where e're her rage the bold Camilla sends, There creeping Aruns silently attends.

When tir'd with conquering, she retires from fight, He steals about his horse, and keeps her in his sight. In all her rounds from him she cannot part, Who shakes his treacherous, but inevitable Dart

Chloreus, the Priest of Cybele, did glare In Phrygian Arms remarkable afar. A foaming Steed he rode, whose hanches case, Like Feathers, Scales of mingled Gold and brass. He clad in forreign Purple, gaul'd the Foe With Cretan arrows from a Lycian bow. Gold was that bow, and Gold his Helmet too: Gay were his upper Robes, which losely flew. Each Limb was cover'd o're with something rare, And as he fought he glister'd every where.

Or that the Temple might the Trophies hold, Or else to shine her self in Trojan Gold:

Him the fierce Maid pursues thro' all her Foes; Regardless of the life she did expose: Him eyes alone, to other dangers blind, And Manly force employs, to please a Virgins mind.

His Dart now Aruns, from his ambush, throws; And thus to Heav'n he sends his coward Vows.

Apollo, oh thou greatest Deity! Patron of blest Soract••••, and of 〈◊〉〈◊〉; (For we are all thy own, whole Woods of pine We heap in Piles, which to thy glory shine. And when we trample on the ••i••e, our soles, By thee preserv'd, contemn the glowi••g coals;) My mighty Patron make me wipe away The shame of this dishonorable day. Nor spoils nor triumph from the deed I claim But trust my future actions with my fame.

This rageing Female Plague but overcome, Let me return unthank'd, inglorious home,

Apollo heard, to half his pray'r inclin'd: The rest he mingles with the fleeting wind. He gives Camilla's ruin to his pray'r: To see his Country, that was lost in Air. As singing o're the field, the Javelin flies, Upon the Queen the army turn their eyes. But she, intent upon her golden prey, Nor minds, nor hears it cut the hissing way, Till in her side it takes its deadly rest: And drinks the Virgin purple of her breast. The trembling Amazons run to her aid, And in their arms they catch the falling Maid. More quick than they the frightned Aruns flies, And feels a Terrour mingled with his joys.

He trusts no more his safety to his Spear; Ev'n her expiring courage gives him fear.

So runs a Wolf smear'd with some Shepherds blood, And strives to gain the shelter of a Wood, Before the Darts his panting sides assail, And claps between his Leggs his shivering Tail, Conscious of the Audacions bloody deed, As Aruns seeks his Troops stretch'd on his speed, Where in their Centre, quaking, he attends, And skulks behind the Targets of his friends.

She strives to draw the Dart but wedg'd among Her Ribs, deep to the wound the Weapon clung; Then fainting roules in death her closing eyes, While from her Cheeks the chearful beauty flies.

To Acca thus she breaths her las•• of breath: Acca that shar'd with her in all, but death: Ah Friend! you once have seen me draw the bow, But fate and darkness hover round me now. Make haste to Turnus, bid him bring with speed His fresh Reserves, and to my charge succeed, Cover the City, and repel the foe. Thus having said, her hands the reins forego; Down from her Horse she sinks, then gasping lies, In a cold sweat, and by degrees she dyes: Her drooping neck declines upon her breast, Her swimming head with slumber is opprest; The lingring soul th' unwelcom doom receives, And murm'ring with disdain, the beauteous Body leaves.

FINIS,