Poems, viz. 1. A panegyrick to the king. 2. Songs and sonnets. 3. The blind lady, a comedy. 4. The fourth book of Virgil, 5. Statius his Achilleis, with annotations. 6. A panegyrick to Generall Monck. / By the Honorable Sr Robert Howard.

The Fourth Book of VIRGILL. Of the Loves of DIDO and AENEAS.

The Argument.

In Love's ungentle Flames a 1.1 Eliza fries, With her Resolves a guilty Storm complies. Aeneas, warn'd by Joves b 1.2 Cyllenian Mate, Prepares for flight, and Dido for her fate. A Funerall Pile she raises, and bestows At once a Fate upon her self and woes.

BUT, long before, the Queen had in her veins Nourish'd Love's wounds, and fed con∣cealed flames. Much on his person, and his generous kind She thought, much on the vertues of his mind.

His charming Image fixes in her breast, And cares now banish once-enjoyed rest.

Th'ensuing day, when Phoebus newly spread His beams, and moist shades from Aurora fled; The Love-sick Queen thus to her Sister said: My Anna, of what dreams am I afraid? What guest is this with unaccustom'd charms? How noble in his Soul? how brave in Arms? I'think (nor vainly) he's of heavenly kind; 'Tis fear that argues a degenerate mind. What various fates he told, with Battles mixt! VVere it not in my breast for ever fix'd, Never the Marriage Fetters more to prove, Since so deceiv'd by fate of my first Love; Did I not loath those Rites a second time, I might perhaps yield to this tempting crime. For I confess, since (slain by fratricide) Sichaeus fell, whose blood the Altars di'd, * 1.3 This onely has enclin'd my thoughts; again I feel impressions of an antient flame. But may the earth first snatch me to her womb, And to the shades Jove's Thunder whirle me down; To Hell's dark shades whose night admits no fate, E're shame and vertues rites I violate. He who first made my heart Love's sacrifice, Still has it, in his grave it buried lies.

This said, a shower of falling tears appear. Anna replies, Dear sister, and more dear

Then Light it self, shall grief thy youth destroy, VVithout the Crown of children, or the joy VVhich Venus for her Votaries prepares? Can dust shut up in graves, or Ghosts have cares? Grant you were she, whose cold breast did disdain, The Lybians and the great a 1.4 Hiarba's flame, And Africans made rich by vanquish'd foes; VVill you as well, all Love's soft charms oppose? Think where we now inhabit, who dwells round; Getulians here with conquest alwaies crown'd, Here savage desarts your Dominions bound, There the wild Barceans; what need I relate The VVars, that on thy Brother's furie wait? Sure the kind gods upon our shores at last, By an obliging storm these Trojans cast. VVhat Citie shalt thousee? thy Kingdom too Shall to this match enlarged fortune owe, VVhen Trojans with our Arms their Swords shall joyn, In what rich glories shall the Punicks shine! Go, and oblige the gods by sacrifice, Thy guest by kindnesse; all delays devise, Whilst Winter rages, and the stormy Star Their Navy shakes, the sky dispos'd to war. "These words the sparks of love now kindled more, "And enthron'd hope where blushes dwelt before.

First, at the Altars heaven's peace they sought, With Sheep selected, slain as custom taught, To Ceres, Phoebus, Bacchus, above all, To Juno, carefull of the Marriage thrall.

The fair Queen's hand a full-crown'd Bowl adorns, Who pours the Wine 'twixt a white Heifer's horns. Still on the fatted Shrine an Offering lies, And day seems young renew'd with Sacrifice; Consulting scarce the life-forsaken breast, Which panting entralls faintly yet exprest. "Unknowing minds of Priests! alas, what ease "Can Temples bring? Can frantick Vows appease "A flame, which life and blood still fuell gives, "And in whose breast the wound in silence lives? Unhappy Dido burns, and wanders round The City, frantick, as a Hind, whose wound From a far off the unsuspected Swain Gives ignorantly, who strives to flie her pain, Through the Dictaean Forrests, wing'd with fears, Yet still her side the fatall Arrow bears.

Now with Aeneas round the walls she goes, Her City and Sidonian-treasure shows. About to speak, her words stick in the way; Now Feasts prepares to end the wasting day. Again (distracted) asks to hears Troy's fate, And on his moving lips her eyes still wait. All now take leave, and the Moon's paler light Shines out, declining Stars soft sleeps invite; Whilst she alone her sorrows entertains, And flung, on his forsaken bed remains; Thinks still she hears him speak, and in despight Of absence, alwaies fancies him in sight; Or in her arms his son and likenesse takes, To try if Love could lessen by mistakes.

Now the late-rising Towers neglected stand, The youth and fortresses alike unman'd. All great beginnings interrupted lye, And walls before which promis'd to be high.

When Juno saw her languish in a flame, Whose fury shrunk not at opposing fame, Venus with haste she finds; and thus then saies, You, and your Boy, will purchase glorious praise, And spoils as ample as your powers, when fame Shall tell; Two gods one woman overcame. Nor am I blinded so, but it appears, The walls of rising Carthage cause your fears. But why these quarrells? rather let them cease In Hymen's bonds, wrapt in eternal peace. Your wishes all are crown'd in Dido's flames, Which fill, instead of bloud, her burning veins; With equall power and kindnesse let us sway, These severall Nations, let her too obey A Phrygian Lord, and unto thy desire, Submit the Tyrians, and the wealth of Tyre; To her, (for she perceiv'd a crafty mind Sent all these words, by which she had design'd To Lybian shores th' Italian crown to joyne) Venus replies, Who is it will decline What you propose? or is so void of sense, To chuse to have with you a difference? If the fates yield to your propos'd intents, (But varying fates I fear) if Jove consents; That Troy and Carthage should as one be joyn'd, The mingled Nations too by leagues combind;

You that enjoy his breast, 'tis just that you Attempt his mind, I'le second what you do.

The Queen of Heaven then replies, That toil And labour shall be mine; A little while, I aske you now to hear, whilst I lay down The means; which our designes at last may crown. Aeneas, with the wretched Queen prepares, In woods and hunting to divert their cares; When the next rising Sun gives day a birth, And with his raies shews the unvailed earth; Upon the Hunters, whilst the game's pursu'd, A storm, sweld big with hail, in blacknesse brew'd, Its fury shall discharge; at the same time, The Heavens to the storm shall Thunder joyn. Th' affrighted Hunters all shall take their flight, Confus'd in darknesse, as if lost in night. The Prince and Queen shall flye for shelter too Into one Cave, if we receive from you Your promis'd aid, there Hymen being by, Wee'l make her thy perpetuall Votary.

Fair Cytherea, finding her designes, Smiles, and, in shew, to what she ask't inclines.

In the mean time, the Sun the briny streams Of Neptune leav's, the youth rise with his beams. And forth the toyl's, and well-nos'd hounds are brought, With spears, whose tops were round with Iron wrought. Next marching forth, Massylian troops are seen, The Punick Princes all expect their Queen.

Who, slower than the rest, forsakes her bed, Whilst her proud horse stands r••chly furnished In purple; on which Gold in windings flow's, Champing his bitt, in foam his mettall show's. At length, attended by a noble train, Clad in a rich Sydonian robe she came. Her quiver gold, her hair too weaved lies In gold, and gold her purple garments ties. The Phrygians next advance, and before these Ascanius came, whom youthfull hopes did please Of promis'd sport; with these Aeneas joyns, And all the troop in charming looks out-shines. As when cold Lycia, and where Xanthus flowes, Apollo leav's, his visits now bestowes Upon his native Delos, where again, The Driopes and Cretans fill his train. With Agathyrsians, whom strange colours dye, And in wild motions round the Altars flye, VVhilst he upon the top of Cynthus goes, His flowing hair, soft laurell-wreaths inclose; Through which the weaved gold its lustre flung, And at his back, his ratling Quiver hung. "Nor did Aeneas looks admit an odds, "But with his lustre equalled the gods? VVhen new these troops unto the hills arrive, And beat the unfrequented shades, they drive VVild goats from their high holds, and wing'd with fear, On t'other side rush down vast heards of Deer.

But young Ascanius in the vales employes Himselfe, and in his horse's fiercenesse joyes.

Now vi••s with these, now others leaves behind, And wanting beasts to chase, wishes to find A chasing Boar o're-spread with rage and foam, Or from the hills to see a Lion come. Whilst thus he wish't, lowd murmurs fill the skie, Follow'd by storms of hail, the hunters flie For severall shelters, whilst amazed sight From mountains tops sees Rivers take their flight. The Queen and Trojan Prince, seeking to save Themselves from storms, meet in one fatall cave, The earth first shook, and Juno gave the signe, And at such rites ungentle flashes shine. While, through the conscious aire, the Marriage∣song, VVas howls of Nymphs, which from the mountains rung. This day first usher'd death, and from this day, Misfortunes took their birth, nor did she weigh Her present act, or think of future fame, Nor could this amorous theft beget a shame; She cal'd it marriage, with a fond designe, Believing in the name to hide the crime.

But quickly now that slighted fame took wings, And all the newes through Lybian Cities flings. Unto ill fame compar'd, swift things are sloath, For as it flies, it gathers strength and growth; Fear keeps it low at first, but free from dread, Quickly in clouds, hides its aspiring head. To Caeus, and Enceladus, the earth Brooded on by the rage of gods gave birth

Unto this sister last, than winds more fleet; Swift in her wings, and not lesse swift in feet. A horrid and strange monster as she flyes, Under her feathers hides an hundred eyes, As many mouths, nor furnisht lesse with ears, As many tongues to tell the tales she hears. When night has spread her shades through heaven she flies, Nor has soft sleep the power to close her eyes, By day; where poor and great men live she sits, And with her tales gives Citties shaking fits: The false and true alike to people brings, With equall joy things done and undone sings. Of Troy's great Prince she quickly did report, How entertaind in Dido's breast and court, Unmindfull of their Crowns, ruld now by lust, The winter spent in passions too unjust. Among the rest to whom she spread this Fame, It quickly unto King Hiarbas came. The storie rais'd his furie, who was son To Jove, from ravisht Garamantis sprung. An hundred Temples he to Jove had rais'd, As many shrines where constant fires still blaz'd. The Gods perpetuall watch, th'enriched ground, With blood, th'entrances with garlands crown'd, The bitter news rage and distraction brings; To fill his breast, who in his fur••e flings Before the Altars of the gods, and there With raised hands sends this disputing pray'r;

Great Jove, to whom, on beds that richly shine, We Moors indulge our feasts with sparkling wine, Seest thou these things? or shall we free from fright See the dark air with sudden flashes bright? And dreadlesse at thy winged lightnings flame Or slighted Thunders, find our fears were vain? A wandring woman on our shores that pay'd For leave and place to live on, and obey'd▪ Our laws, dares now despise our marriage bed, For one Aeneas to her Kingdom fled. This Paris with his troope that scarsly are Like men, in their soft robes and perfum'd hair, Enjoys my passion's object, whilst we raise In vain to thee our offerings and our praise.

Whilst thus expostulating-pray'rs he fent, Holding the Altars still, th' Omnipotent To Carthage turns his eyes, where passion's flame Had in the Lovers burnt the thoughts of Fame.

Then calling Mercurie he thus begins, Go son, call Zephyrus and on thy wings, Haste to the Trojan Prince, who idly s••ays In Carthage, and contemns in his delays Crowns which were promis'd him by Fate and Time, Swift as a thought bear him these thoughts of mine. His beauteous mother never promis'd me Such things as these, nor for this cause was he Twice from the Grecians free'd, but that there may One spring from Teucer, Italy to sway So big with War and Empires; and to give Laws, under which th'obliged World should live.

But if such praise cannot his mind enflame, Nor toils be pois'd with weight of endlesse Fame, Why does he hinder from Ascanius brows The Roman Crown? What is it hope allows, Whilst thus with foes (delaying) he remains? Neglects Ausonia, and Lavinian plains? Bid him to sea, go tell him what I say.

The ready god prepares streight to obey His mighty Father's will, and first he ties Wings to his feet; born upon which he flies▪ Through air, and o're the earth, and liquid plain, Swift as the motion of a rapid flame. Then takes his rod; whose call ghosts from below Obey, by the same power others go Unto those dismall shades, sleep comes and flies As he appoints; and closes dying eyes. Th'enraged winds swell as he dyes along, And drive the troubled clouds into a throng.

Now Atlas views, as on his wings he fled, Approaching heaven with his aspiring head, Batter'd with winds and storms, with tall Pines crown'd, And still with sable clowds envellop'd round: His shoulders prest with undissolved snow, And from the old man's Chin swift rivers flow In rushing cataracts, in frozen ties His horrid beard bound up severely, lies.

Here first with equally unmoving wings Cyllenius stays himself, thence headlong flings.

Along the shores a bird thus swiftly glides Close on the surface of the swelling tides; So from high Atlas-top Cyllenius flies 'Twixt heaven and earth, where sandie Lybia lies.

When first on Carthage-plains his winged feet Took rest, his eyes as soon Aeneas meet Raising new Towers; on his thigh there hung A shining sword, a Tyrian garment flung Over his shoulders, where the gold did wave In glittering rings, which Dido made and gave.

When with these words the god invades his car, Dost thou for Carthage lay foundations here, And rai••est Cities, now uxorious grown, Seeking strange Crowns, unmindfull of thine own? He who o're all th'immortall gods bears sway, And whom the people of the earth obey, Commanded me to ask, What vain design Stays thee in Lybia, idly losing time? If so much glory cann't thy mind inflame, Nor toils be pois'd with weight of endless fame; Let not Ascartus suffer by thy crime, To whom the Fates th'I••alian Crown design.

Thus having spoke Cyllenius takes his flight, And in the air slides from enquiring sight. Amaz'd Aeneas stands, in h••rror ti'd, VVith stifned hair, his voice and words deni'd, Now burns to leave the place but lately priz'd, So by the god commanded and advis'd, VVhat should he do? how venture to relate This change to her that was so passionate?

His mind travails through-thoughts as in a trance, And snatch'd with every various circumstance, Till every thought to this submission gave. Then Mnestheus and Sergestus, with the brave Cloanthus, he does call; with silent care Bids them the Navy and their Arms prepare, And draw their Forces to the Ocean side; But with a feigned cause the true to hide.

In the mean space (whilst Dido little thought Their loves were to so near a period brought) He pays his visits, and neglects no time, All his addresses fits for his designe, VVith all the art of softest words, whilst they VVith gladnesse do their Princes will obey.

But the fair Queen (for who can long deceive A Lover?) quickly did the fraud perceive, And from the present makes her future ghesse; VVhat ever seems most safe, fears not the lesse. The same ungentle Fame the news now brings To sad Eliza, who now madly flings Thorough the City, passion so excites The wretched Queen, like Thyas at those Rites VVhen first the Orgyes stir, and Bacchus name Cythaeron loudly does in night proclaim.

At length unto Aeneas thus she saies, Hast thou design'd all these dissembling ways? Could there, false man, be so much ill in thee, In silence to have fled this place and me? Cannot my love, that love, which I so late Plighted to thee, nor my approaching fate,

Oblige thy stay; but among Winter-waves To thrust thy Navy, whilst the North-wind raves. What if you never sought an unknown Land, And antient Troy did in its lustre stand; Must needs that Troy, through Billows swelling high, Be sought with Navies? Is't not me you flie? By thy receiv'd right hand, and by these tears, (Now nothing else at my command appears) By our young Loves, if ever I was thought To merit, or to thee a pleasure brought: Pitty a falling state, change thy hard mind, I beg, if prayers yet a place can find. For thee, the Lybians, and Numidian King, With Tyrians, will on me their malice fling. For thee, my early and unspotted fame Is lost, which once to Heaven bore my name. To what am I now dying left? Ah guest, In that, all Hymen's Titles now must rest. But why do I delay? Is it to see My Brother ruine all? or till I be Led captive by Hyarbas? If I might Have had a young Aeneas ere thy flight, That onely might to me present thy look, I should not fancy I were quite forlook.

This said, forewarn'd by Jove within his breast, With eyes still fix'd his troubles he supprest.

At length replies, Fair Queen, I cann't deny Your words or merits, nor shall ever I Unwillingly admit Eliza's name Unto my thoughts, whilst life inspires this frame.

Thus much I onely say, I never tri'd, Or hop'd dissemblingly my flight to hide. Nor did I promise ever to be thine, Or hither came with such a fond designe. Would Fate permit, my will should now dispose My life, and as I pleas'd my cares and woes; Troy and its Princely Palaces should shine, As once it did, rais'd by this hand of mine. But Phoebus now and Lycian Lots decree, That I should fix my love on Italy. If you, that from Phoenicia took your birth, Affect this Carthage, and the Lybian earth; VVhy should it now appear more strange, that we, Though Trojans born, should seek for Italy? The justice is the same. As often too, As the dark night its humid shades does throw, O're the hid world, and Stars begin to rise, My Father's Ghost does threaten and advise. Unjust to dear Ascanius too I prove, He wants a Crown, whilst here I idly love. Now Mercury from Jove was sent (I swear By both our heads) who through the yielding air Brought his commands, apparent light and clear, Shew'd me the god, and I his voice did hear. Cease then to wound with these complaints of thine, Since, though I go, 'twas not my own design.

This said, she turn'd her long averted sight, Fix'd upon him, her eyes then took their flight, And silently on every object gaz'd; At length she spoke, to height of passion rais'd.

Per••idious man! Nor Dardan could begin Thy race, or couldst thou from a goddesse spring; But bred on rocky Caucasus, thou first Wast by Hir••anian Tygers udders nurst. For why should I dissemble? should belief Betray me to more woe? See if my grief Has rais'd one sigh, or does his eyes encline To be o're-come in tears to pitty mine. Where should I first complain? my miseries, Nor Jove nor Juno sees with equall eyes. Faith is unstedfast still, fond woman's haste! In want I found what I in plenty plac'd. His Friends and Navy did by me return From d••ath to life, Ah in what flames I burn? Now Lot's, Apollo now, now from above Cyllenius brings the harsh commands of Jove. 'Tis likely that the gods should from our cares, Receive such trouble, and proportion theirs. I neither stay you, nor your words deny, Seek through the waves and wind for Italy. I hope (if gods be great as well as good) That thou shalt drink (drown'd in the rocky Flood) Revenge's draught, and calling still on me, Though absent, yet in flames I'le follow thee. And when cold death shall cease this vitall heat, My ghost unwelcome visits shall repeat. And all thy woes obliging Fame shall tell, To my pleas'd ears when I with shadows dwell.

At this abruptly stops her words, and flies, Sick of the light, and weary of mens eyes,

Leaving him fix'd with fears, and in delay, Confus'd in all, preparing much to say. Whilst she sinks to the earth on which she fled, Carried by servants to a Marble-bed.

Though the just Prince enclin'd to give relief, And to divert with words her powerfull grief, Shook in his breast, where sighs and love did meet; Yet he obeys the gods, and views his Fleet. The Trojans throng, while launch'd from the shore's side, The 'nointed Vessells now on Billows ride; Carrying their Oars aboard, and Oak not quite Brought into form, so carefull in their flight. All from the City throng, as toyling Ants, Treasure a Heap, remembring Winter's wants. The black Troop through the verdant grasse makes way, And in a narrow road their stores convay; Some bear the corn, the laziest of the Swarm Others excite, and every place grows warm.

What were thy thoughts now Dido at this sight, And what sad sighs did from thy breast take flight? Hearing such noise, and seeing from above The shores grow warm with crowds. (Ungentle Love!) What is't thou canst not us compell to do? Again shee's forc'd in tears and prayers to woe. No thought to Love obedience now deni'd, Left dying, she had left a way untri'd.

Seest thou not, Sister, how they all repair Down to the shores, and the ungentle air Seems too to court their sails, the joys resound From Sea-men, all their Vessells ready crown'd.

Had I but thought that such a woe could be, I might have born it then; for, wretched me, This one thing do, (for that false man alone Seem'd kind to thee, to thee his thoughts made known The time, & how to soften words you know, Go and petition this insulting foe. I never swore the Trojans to destroy, Or did assist, or sent my ships to Tray; Or yet disturb'd his Father's dust and ghost, Why are my words to his clos'dears thus lost? Ah! whither does he flie? let his hard breast Grant but a wretched Lover's last request. Let him but stay till he may safely flye, Till neither winds grow lowd, or waves grow high. I beg not now again his broken vows, Or of the Latium Crown to rob his Brows: I beg but time my passions to reprieve, Till my hard fate has taught me how to grieve. This last request I make, if pitty find A power in your breast; my gratefull mind Shall onely lose the memory in death. Whilst tears she spent with this imploring breath, To him, and back again, the wofull tales Her Sister bears, but nothing now prevails; Soft charming words had lost their power, oppos'd By Fate, the god his gentler ears had clos'd.

An aged Oak so long had stood the blast Of Alpine Boreas, now is this way cast, Now that, whilst with the clamoring winds he strives, Which to the earth th'assaulted branches drives;

The root yet fix'd, for what above appears, So much below the earth's embraces bears.

So every way her words the Hero prest, Shook by her cares within his mighty breast. But his firm mind unshaken still appears, And she, in vain, now spends her stock of tears.

Th' unhappy Queen, whom all these fates affright, Now wishes death, and hates to see the light. That too which added to these sad desires, VVhilst on the Altars in perfumed fires, She paies her gifts, the sacred wine no more, Retains its looks, but turns black clotted gore. This horrid change was to no eye reveal'd, And from the trusted sister too conceal'd. Besides, there stood a marble Temple, made To her first love, to which she alwayes paid An honour'd kindnesse, alwayes too deck't round VVith verdant wreaths, and snowie fleeces crown'd; From whence she thought, she heard Sichaeus call. And when the night had spre'd her vaile o're all, The fatall Owle that perching place still seeks, And sends out long and death-presaging shreeks. The Priests before had threatned sad extreams, The cruell Prince still visits her in dreams. Alwayes she seems alone, and wandring strayes, Seeking her subjects in forsaken wayes. So Pentheus saw with his distracted sight, Furies in troops, at once two Suns gave light. One Thebes two Cities shew'd, or on the stage, As wild Orestes flyes his mothers rage.

VVith blazing brands, and with black serpents arm'd, VVhilst in the gate, revenging furies swarm'd?

Vanquish't with grief and passion in extreams, She now resolves to dye, the time and means Closely designes, nor could her thoughts appear, Her looks were all compos'd serene and clear. To her afflicted Sister then she goes, And with these words, her mind seems to disclose.

Come share with me the joy of my designe, That shall restore his love or banish mine. Neer to the setting Sun and Oceans end, A part of Aethiopia does extend. VVhere mighty Atlas on his shoulders bears The glittering load of all the starry sphears. Thence, (a Massylian born) a Priestesse came, That kept the Dragon and th'Hesperian Fane; Who also did the sacred branches keep, With hony and with poppy causing sleep. She could with charms enthralled minds set free, And others bind with the same cruelty. Stars would retire, swift streams no longer run, And from the graves, the cal'd up spirits come, The earth mens frighted ears with howlings fills, And the tall Oks seem walking from the hills.

VVitnesse you gods, and my dear life, that now Unwillingly to Magick arts I bow. Go, in the inner Court erect a pyle, Bring the man's sword, and garments, now his spoile. Lay all the Impious left upon that bed, VVhere I to ruine was by passion led.

For so the Priestesse every thing design'd, Of a false man should dissolution find.

This said, on her still lips a palenesse rose, And yet her sister did not then suppose Under pretence of charms she meant to find Her fate, or that such fury rul'd her mind; Or fear'd a crueller effect, or crosse, From any cause, than from her Husbands losse.

She therefore hastens to obey; the while, The Queen within the Court doth raise a pile Of pines and cloven Oaks, adorned round VVith lights; with wreaths and funerall Cypresse crown'd. And on this pile the fatall bed convaid, On which his garments and his sword she laid. With these, plac't his effigies too, Alas, Too knowing now of what would come to passe! All this begirt with Altars, with loose hair, The Priestesse sends to many gods her pray'r To Spirits, and inhabitants below, To Cynthia, and to triple Hecate too. Sprinkling feign'd dew, as from Avernus brought, Herbs cut with brazen Sythes, by Moon-shine sought. With poyson brew'd, from the Colts brow they tare The much lov'd bit of the prevented mare.

The Queen with gifts, hard by the Altar stands, Her garments loose, one foot releast from bands. And dying now, her last appeal does send, To Gods and Planets, conscious of her end. If any Power most with care survaies Loves too unequall bonds, to them she prayes.

T'was night, and wearied limbs with toils opprest, Did in becalming sleep's embraces rest. The winds were hush't, the waves no longer sweld, And time the equall scales of midnight held. The earth's and air's inhabitants, in dreams VVere lock't, and scaly troops affecting streams. All in obliging sleep receiv'd their shares, Their hearts insensible of toils or cares.

But the unhappy Queen sleep's charms denies, Passion possest her breast, and tears her eyes. Her cares increase, her love to fury grows, And storms of anger with her passion rose. Then to her selfe, raises this sad discourse; What shall I do? shall I go seek remorse Of slighted lovers? or beg to be priz'd, By that Hiarbas whom I once despis'd? Or shall I flye after the Trojan sails, With whom the sense of kindnesse so prevails? Or were I willing, would they give me leave; Or a scorn'd thing in their proud ships receive? Lost wretch! see'st thou not falsenesse fix't upon The perjur'd race of false Laomedon? What then, shall I alone these men pursue, Or let the armed Tyrians follow too? And those which hardly once from Tyrus came, Shall I perswade to go to Sea again? No, no, 'tis only death is fit for thee, Let his sword end thy life and misery. Thou sister, first (yet with my weeping prest) Didst help this enemy into my brest.

Why might not we like wild beasts alwayes live, And know no cares that love and passion give? Then, not oblig'd, I had not been unjust, In forgot-kindnesse to Sichaeus dust. Such great and sad complaints denied her rest, In troops assaulting now her broken brest.

Sleep then did on the Trojan Prince prevail, Who in his tall ship lay prepar'd to sail. To whom, Jove's messenger appears once more, Repeates the warnings that he gave before; (In voice and every thing like Hermes show'd, His youth the same, his shining hair so flow'd.)

Thou heavenly-born, Canst thou soft sleep admit, Not sensible what dangers threaten yet? Nor yet discernest how the prosperous gales, With gentle invitations court thy sails? She now, since death is her resolv'd designe, Guided by rage, stops at no fraud or crime. Fly whilst thou may'st, left thou seest vessells swarm, On troubled waves, and shores with flames grow warm If by this Land, you wait approaching day, Then put an end unto this dull delay. The minds of women never yet were fix't: This said, with nights dark shades himself he mixt.

No sooner now this mighty Vision ends, But straight Aeneas, rows'd himselfe and friends; Urging them on, to hasten from those shores, VVith haste to spread their sails, and ply their Oars.

A God sent from above came to exile, And with Commands, to hasten too our flight. VVhich of the gods so e're thou art, we flye As thou direct'st, ob••ying chearfully. Be thou still pleas'd to guide us and protect, And every star propitiously direct. This said, his shining sword draws from his side, And cuts the Cable which his vessell ty'd, The rest with equall haste repeat his deed, And quickly from the shores their vessells freed. Much of the Sea with ships was cover'd now, Forcing white furrows on its blewish brow.

Now on the earth, the first bright message fled Of fair Aurora's leaving Tithon's bed. VVhen first the Queen saw the approaching light, VVith it the empty port, the ships in flight: Her breast, where yet so many beauties were, She fills with stroaks, and tears her shining hair. Then cries, O Jupiter, shall he thus flye, And fix on us so great a mockery? Are none yet arm'd, no Ships yet thrust from shores? Pursue with flames, bring sails, employ your Oars; VVhat do I talk of, or where am I now? VVhat rage, and impious fancies I allow? Unhappy Queen, these thoughts should have born sway, Before thy Scepter thou hadst it flung away. Behold his faith, who yet they say before, His Countries gods through all his travails bore! VVho on his shoulders bore his fathers weight, Prest too with age, declining to his fate.

Cannot I throw his scatter'd limbs to waves, And give his friends too such unpittied graves? Might not Ascanius perish by my sword, Then dish the Boy up to his fathers board? Th' event of War is doubtfull: be it so, The dying sure never needs fear a foe. Swift flames among their ships I should have flung, In which at once, the father and the son Should have been lost, and in the same designe, With their sad fates, I would have mingled mine. Thou Sun that seest all things, that mortalls do! Thou Juno, conscious of my passions too: And Hecate, whose howls fills night and wayes, You furies too, hear what Eliza pray's The last her dying lips ever designes! Let your revenge be great, as are their crimes. If such an impious man, must safely find Through seas, places and Lands for him design'd, If this be fates unalterable doom, Let him among a warlike people come Vext still with such, driven from place to place, And snatch't from his Ascanius lov'd embrace. Still begging aid, let objects for his eyes Be still his wretched friends sad obse••uies. And when dishonour'd peace shall all unite; Let him enjoy neither his Crown nor Light: But fall before his day, the sand his grave, The god's these prayers with my blood shall have. And you, O Tyrians, in your hate be just, Let that be still a tribute to my dust.

Never let Love oblige, nor League make tyes, And from our loyns may some revenger rise, That on the Dardan race, may pay these scor's, With fire & sword; may shores contend with shores, Billow's with waves, and armies against arms, And all his race parish in civill harms.

This said, her crowdes of thoughts were now at strife, Which way to rid her selfe of hated life. Then to Sichaeus nurse her selfe addrest, (Her's in her native grave enjoyed rest) Thus said, Dear nurse, my sister hither bring, First having hath'd her body in a spring, And with her bring the Sacrifice design'd, And you your head with sacred fillers bind. For Pluto's rites I'le end, with them my woe, Whilst on the Dardans funerall pile I throw His Image, to the flames ungentle rage. This said, the nurse's gate shew'd haste and age.

But wing'd with horrid fancies Dido flyes. Unto her fate, rolling her bloody eyes. In her sair cheeks, sad looks possest the room. And palenesse of that death that was to come. Thorough the Inner Court her stops she bends, And furiously the funerall Pile ascends. Then draws the Dardan' sword, never design'd For such a horrid use; her eyes next find His bed, which only now his garments bears. A little while she paus'd, by thoughts and tears Shar••rs in time delay'd, her selfe then cast Upon the bed, and thus she spoke her last.

Dear spoils, whilst gods and fate did so agree! Receive my life, from cares now set me free. Here I have liv'd the slave of Fortune still, Now under earth my shade some place must fill. A City I have built, reveng'd the fate Of a lost Husband, and a Brother's hate. Happy, ah too much happy I had been, Had never Trojan-Sails my Carthage seen. This said, she kiss'd the bed, then cries, Must I Thus poorly fall, and unrevenged die? But die I must, death onely can give ease, The thoughts oft'other world alone can please. Let my last flame blaze in his cruell eyes, Shook at the Omen, whilst Eliza dies.

This said, she thrust the sword into her breast, And flowing blood the wretched act exprest. The lofty Pallace ecehoes now with cries, And fame through all the shaken City flies: The roofs resound with womens houls and moans, And ecchoing aire affected seems with groans.

So it had been, if to an armed Host The antient Tyre or Carthage had been lost. And the impartiall flames shewing no odds, On sinking dwellings both of men and gods.

Her Sister hears, who with a shaking pace, Beating her breast, arrives unto the place; Thorough encreasing crowds she rushing came, Still calling on her dying Sister's name. Was this thy cruell fraud, was I so prest For such a Pile? for this were Altars drest?

What should a wretch so much forsaken do? Did you scorn, Sister, I should die with you? Death should have had on both an equall power, We should have shar'd one grief, one sword, one hour. These with my hands I rais'd, my prayers fled To gods, did I compose thee for the dead To live behind? Thy fate now ruines all, Thy Sister sinks, and Kingdom in thy fall. Some water bring that I may bathe the wound, If any wandring breath may yet befound. To hers my lips so closely shall be laid, That it shall find no way but me. This said, She mounts the Pile, and in her bosom took Her Sister, yet by breath not quite forsook. She grieves, yet still attempting all she cou'd, And with her garments dries away the bloud. She strives to raise her eyes, by weaknesse prest, Her eye-lids sinck, the wound gapes on her breast. Thrice she attempted from the bed to rise, Thrice roles upon the bed with wandring eyes. She makes saint s••arches now for heavens light, And groanes, when found by her impairing sight.

But Juno pittying the punishment Of strugling life, from heaven Iris sent, To set at freedom hēr delaying breath, Since neither fate, nor a deserved death Had caus'd her end, but fell before her time: Love's passion was alone her fate and crime.

Nor yet had Proserpine took from her head Her hair, and enter'd her among the dead.

From heaven then, Iris with dewie wings, On which the Sun a thousand glories flings, Flies to her head, This to the dark abode I bear, and free thee from thy body's load. She said; then with her right hand cuts her hair, And her enlarged breath slides into aire.

Notes

• a 1.1

  Dido
• b 1.2

  Mercurie
• * 1.3

  Her husband slain by her own brother Pig∣malion.
• a 1.4

  King of the Numidians.