But shall celestial discord never cease?
"T is better ended in a lasting peace.
You stand possess'd of all your soul desir'd;
Poor Dido with consuming love is fir'd.
Your Trojan with my Tyrian let us join ;
So Dido shall be yours, Eneas mine-
One common kingdom, one united line.
Eliza shall a Dardan lord obey,
And lofty Carthage for a dow'r convey."
Then Venus (who her hidden fraud descried,
Which would the sceptre of the world misguide
To Libyan shores) thus artfully replied:
"Who, but a fool, would wars with Juno choose,
And such alliance and such gifts refuse,
If fortune with our joint desires comply?
The doubt is all from Jove, and destiny;
Lest he forbid, with absolute command,
To mix the people in one common land-
Or will the Trojan and the Tyrian line,
In lasting leagues and sure succession, join.
But you, the partner of his bed and throne,
May move his mind: my wishes are your

own."

"Mine," said imperial Juno," be the care :-
Time urges now :-to perfect this affair,
Attend my counsel, and the secret share.
When next the Sun his rising light displays,
And gilds the world below with purple rays,
The queen, Eneas, and the Tyrian court,
Shall to the shady woods, for sylvan game, re-
sort;

There, while the huntsmen pitch their toils around,

Ana cheerful horns, from side to side, resound,
A pitchy cloud shall cover all the plain
With hail, and thunder, and tempestuous rain:
The fearful train shall take their speedy flight,
Dispers'd and all involv'd in gloomy night:
One cave a grateful shelter shall afford
To the fair princess and the Trojan lord.
I will myself the bridal bed prepare,
If you, to bless the nuptials, will be there :
So shall their loves be crown'd with due delights,
And Hymen shall be present at the rites."
The queen of love consents, and closely smiles
At her vain project, and discover'd wiles.

The rosy morn was risen from the main, And horns and hounds awake the princely train:

They issue early through the city gate,
Where the more wakeful huntsmen ready wait,
With nets, and toils, and darts, beside the
force

Of Spartan dogs, and swift Massylian horse.
The Tyrian peers and officers of state,
For the slow queen, in antechambers wait:
Her lofty courser, in the court below,
(Who his majestic rider seems to know,)

Proud of his purple trapping, paws the ground, And champs the golden bit, and spreads the foam around.

The queen at length appears: on either hand,
The brawny guards in martial order stand.
A flower'd cymar with golden fringe she wore,
And at her back a golden quiver bore.
Her flowing hair a golden caul restrains,
A golden clasp the Tyrian robe sustains.
Then young Ascanius, with a sprightly grace,
Leads on the Trojan youth to view the chase.
But far above the rest in beauty shines
The great Eneas, when the troop he joins;
Like fair Apollo, when he leaves the frost
Of wintry Xanthus, and the Lycian coast,
When to his native Delos he resorts,
Ordains the dances, and renews the sports;
Where painted Scythians, mix'd with Cretan
bands,

Before the joyful altars join their hands:
Himself, on Cynthus walking, sees below
The merry madness of the sacred show.
Green wreaths of bays his length of hair enclose:
A golden fillet binds his awful brows:
His quiver sounds.-Not less the prince is seen
In manly presence, or in lofty mien.

Now had they reach'd the hills, and storm'd the seat

Of savage beasts, in dens, their last retreat. The cry pursues the mountain-goats: they bound

From rock to rock, and keep the craggy ground:
Quite otherwise the stags, a trembling train,
In herds unsingled, scour the dusty plain,
And a long chase, in open view maintain.
The glad Ascanius, as his courser guides,
Spurs through the vale, and these and those out-
rides.

His horse's flanks and sides are forc'd to feel
The clanking lash, and goring of the steel.
Impatiently he views the feeble prey,
Wishing some nobler beast to cross his way;
And rather would the tusky boar attend,
Or see the tawny lion downward bend.
Meantime, the gath'ring clouds obscure the
skies:

From pole to pole the forky lightning flies
The rattling thunders roll; and Juno pours
A wintry deluge down, and sounding show'rs.
The company dispers'd, to coverts ride, [side.
And seek the homely cots, or mountain's hollow
The rapid rains, descending from the hills,
To rolling torrents raise the creeping rills.
The queen and prince, as Love or Fortune
guides,

One common cavern in her bosom kides.
Then first the trembling earth the signs per..
And flashing fires enlighten all the cave:

Hell from below, and Juno from above, And howling nymphs, were conscious to their love.

From this ill-omen'd hour, in time arose
Debate and death, and all succeeding woes.
The queen, whom sense of honour could not
move,

No longer made a secret of her love,
But call'd it marriage, by that specious name
To veil the crime, and sanctify the shame.

The loud report through Libyan cities goes: Fame the great ill, from small beginnings grows

Swift from the first; and ev'ry moment brings New vigour to her flights, new pinions to her wings

Soon grows the pigmy to gigantic size;

Her feet on earth, her forehead in the skies.
Enrag'd against the gods, revengeful Earth
Produc'd her, last of the Titanian birth-
Swift is her walk, more swift her winged haste-
A monstrous phantom, horrible and vast.
As many plumes as raise her lofty flight,
So many piercing eyes enlarge her sight:
Millions of op'ning mouths to Fame belong;
And ev'ry mouth is furnish'd with a tongue;
And round with list'ning ears the flying plague is
hung,

She fills the peaceful universe with cries:
No slumbers ever close her wakeful eyes:
By day, from lofty tow'rs her head she shows,
And spreads thro' trembling crowds disas'trous

news,

With court informers haunts, and royal spies; Things done relates; not done she feigns; and mingles truth with lies.

Talk is her bus'ness; and her chief delight
To tell of prodigies, and cause affright.

She fills the people's ears with Dido's name,
Who," lost to honour and the sense of shame,
Admits into her throne and nuptial bed
A wand'ring guest, who from his country fled:
Whole days with him she passes in delights,
And wastes in luxury long winter nights,
Forgetful of her fame and royal trust,
Dissolv'd in ease, abandon'd to her lust."
The goddess widely spreads the loud report
And flies at length to king Iarbas' court.
When first possess'd with this unwelcome

news,

Whom did he not of men and gods accuse?
This prince, from ravished Garmantis born,
A hundred temples did with spoils adorn,
In Ammon's honour, his celestial sire;
A hundred altars fed with wakeful fire ;
And, through his vast dominions, priests or-
dain'd,

Whose watchful care these holy rites maintain'd.

The gates and columns were with garlands crown'd,

And blood of victim beasts enrich'd the ground.
He, when he heard a fugitive could move
The Tyrian princess, who disdain'd his love,
His breast with fury burn'd, his eyes with fire-
Mad with despair, impatient with desire-
Then on the sacred altars pouring wine,
He thus with pray'rs implor'd his sire divine.
"Great Jove, propitious to the Moorish race,
Who feast on painted beds, with off'rings grace
Thy temples, and adore thy pow'r divine,
With blood of victims, and with sparkling wine,
Seest thou not this? or do we fear in vain
Thy boasted thunder, and thy thoughtless reign?
Do thy broad hands the forky lightnings lance?
Thine are the bolts, or the blind work of chance?
A wand'ring woman builds, within our state,
A little town, bought at an easy rate;
She pays me homage, (and my grants allow
A narrow space of Libyan lands to plough,)
Yet, scorning me, by passion blindly led,
Admits a banish'd Trojan to her bed!
And now, this other Paris, with his train
Of conquer'd cowards, must in Afric reign!
(Whom, what they are, their looks and garb
confess,

Their locks with oil perfum'd, their Lydian

dress.)

He takes the spoil, enjoys the princely dame; And I, rejected I, adore an empty name!

His vows, in haughty terms, he thus preferr'd, And held his altar's horns: the mighty Thund'rer heard,

Then cast his eyes on Carthage, where he found
The lustful pair in lawless pleasure drown'd,
Lost in their loves, insensible of shame,
And both forgetful of their better fame.
He calls Cyllenius; and the god attends;
By whom this menacing command he sends :
"Go mount the western winds, and cleave the

sky;

Then, with a swift descent, to Carthage fly; There find the Trojan chief, who wastes his days

In slothful riot and inglorious ease,
Nor minds the future city, given by Fate.
To him this message from my mouth relate:
Not so fair Venus hop'd, when twice she won
Thy life with pray'rs; nor promis'd such a son.
Hers was a hero, destin'd to command
A martial race,
and rule the Latian land;
Who should his ancient line from Teucer draw;
And on the conquer'd world impose the law.
If glory cannot move a mind so mean,
Nor future praise from fading pleasure wean,
Yet why should he defraud his son of fame
And grudge the Romans their immortal name

What are his vain designs? what hopes he more
From his long ling'ring on a hostile shore,
Regardless to redeem his honour lost,
And for his race to gain the Ausonian coast?
Bid him with speed the Tyrian court forsake:
With this command the slumb'ring warrior
wake."

Hermes obeys: with golden pinions binds
His flying feet, and mounts the western winds:
And, whether o'er the seas or earth he flies,
With rapid force they bear him down the skies.
But first he grasps within his awful hand
The mark of sov❜reign pow'r, his magic wand :
With this he draws the ghosts from hollow
graves;

With this he drives them down the Stygian

waves;

With this he seals in sleep the wakeful sight, And eyes, though clos'd in death, restores to light.

Thus arm'd, the god begins his airy race,
And drives the racking clouds along the liquid

space;

Now sees the top of Atlas, as he flies,
Whose brawny back supports the starry skies
Atlas, whose head, with piny forests crown'd,
Is beaten by the winds-with foggy vapours
bound.
[chin
Snows hide his shoulders: from beneath his
The founts of rolling streams their race begin:
A beard of ice on his large breast depends→
Here, pois'd upon his wings, the god descends:
Then, resting thus, he from the tow'ring height
Plung'd downward with precipitated flight,
Lights on the seas, and skims along the flood;
As water fowls, who seek their fishy food,
Less, and yet less, to distant prospect show;
By turns they dance aloft, and dive below;
Like these, the steerage of his wings he plies,
And near the surface of the water flies:
Till, having pass'd the seas, and cross'd the
sands,

He clos'd his wings, and stoop'd on Libyan lands

Where shepherds once were hous'd in homely sheds, [heads. Now tow'rs within the clouds advance their Arriving there, he found the Trojan prince New ramparts raising for the town's defence, A purple scarf, with gold embroider'd o'er, (Queen Dido's gift,) about his waist he wore ; A sword, with glitt'ring gems diversified, For ornament, not use, hung idly by his side. Then thus, with winged words, the god began, Resuming his own shape-" Degen'rate man! Thou woman's property! what mak'st thou here,

These foreign walls and Tvrian tow'rs to rear,

Forgetful of thy own? All-powerful Jove,
Who sways the world below and heav'n above,
Has sent me down with this severe command:
What means thy ling'ring in the Libyan land?
If glory cannot move a mind so mean,
Nor future praise from flitting pleasure wean,
Regard the fortunes of thy rising heir:
The promis'd crown let young Ascanius wear,
To whom th' Ausonian sceptre, and the state
Of Rome's imperial name, is ow'd by Fate."
So spoke the god; and, speaking, took his flight,
Involv'd in clouds; and vanish'd out of sight.
The pious prince was seiz'd with sudden

fear:

[hair:
Mute was his tongue, and upright stood his
Revolving in his mind the stern command,
He longs to fly, and loathes the charming land.
What should he say? or how should he begin?
What course, alas! remains, to steer between
Th' offended lover and the pow'rful queen?
This way, and that, he turns his anxious mind,
And all expedients tries, and none can find.
Fix'd on the deed, but doubtful of the means-
After long thought, to this advice he leans:
Three chiefs he calls, commands them to re-
pair

The fleet, and ship their men, with silent care:
Some plausible pretence he bids them find,
To colour what in secret he design'd.
Himself, meantime, the softest hours would
choose,

Before the love-sick lady heard the news;
And move her tender mind by slow degrees,
To suffer what the sov'reign power decrees;
Jove will inspire him, when, and what to say.-
They hear with pleasure, and with haste obey.

But soon the queen perceives the thin dis

guise:

(What arts can blind a jealous woman's eyes?)
She was the first to find the secret fraud,
Before the fatal news was blaz'd abroad.
Love the first motions of the lover hears,
Quick to presage, and e'en in safety fears.
Nor impious Fame was wanting to report
The ships repair'd, the Trojan's quick resort,
And purpose to forsake the Tyrian court.
Frantic with fear, impatient of the wound,
And impotent of mind, she roves the city round.
Less wild the Bacchanalian dames appear,
When, from afar, their nightly god they hear,
And howl about the hills, and shake the wreathy

spear.

At length she finds the dear perfidious man,
Prevents his form'd excuse, and thus began:
"Base and ungrateful! could you hope to fly,
And, undiscover'd, 'scape a lover's eye?
Nor could my kindness your compassion move
Nor plighted vows, nor dearer bands of love?

Or is the death of a despairing queen
Not worth preventing, though too well foreseen?
E'en when the wintry winds command your
stay,

You dare the tempests, and defy the sea.
False as you are, suppose you were not bound
To lands unknown, and foreign coasts to sound;
Were Troy restor'd, and Priam's happy reign,
Now durst you tempt, for Troy, the raging
main?

mind:

See, whom you fly! am I the foe you shun?
Now, by those holy vows, so late begun,
By this right hand (since I have nothing more
To challenge, but the faith you gave before)
I beg you by these tears too truly shed,
By the new pleasures of our nuptial bed;
If ever Dido, when you most were kind,
Were pleasing in your eyes, or touch'd your
[place,
By these my pray'rs, if pray'rs may yet have
Pity the fortune of a falling race!
For you I have provok'd a tyrant's hate,
Incens'd the Libyan and the Tyrian state;
For you alone, I suffer in my fame,
Bereft of honour, and expos'd to shame!
Whom have I now to trust, ungrateful guest?
(That only name remains of all the rest!)
What have I left? or whither can I fly ?
Must I attend Pygmalion's cruelty,
Or till Iarbas shall in triumph lead

A queen, that proudly scorn'd his proffer'd bed!
Had you deferr'd, at least, your hasty flight,
And left behind some pledge of our delight,
Some babe to bless the mother's mournful sight,
Some young Æneas to supply your place,
Whose features might express his father's face;
I should not then complain to live bereft
Of all my husband, or be wholly left."

Here paus'd the queen. Unmov'd he holds his eyes,

By Jove's command; nor suffer'd love to rise, Tho' heaving in his heart; and thus at length replies:

"Fair queen, you never can enough repeat
Your boundless favours, or I own my debt;
Nor can my mind forget Eliza's name,
While vital breath inspires this mortal frame.
This only let me speak in my defence-
I never hop'd a secret flight from hence,
Much less pretended to the lawful claim
Of sacred nuptials, or a husband's name.
For, if indulgent heav'n would leave me free,
And not submit my life to Fate's decree,
My choice would lead me to the Trojan shore,
Those relics to review, their dust adore,
And Priam's ruin'd palace to restore.
And now the Delphian oracle commands,
And Fate invites me to the Latian lands.

That is the promis'd place to which I steer;
And all my vows are terminated there.
If you, a Tyrian and a stranger born,
With walls and tow'rs, a Libyan town adorn,
Why may not we-like you, a foreign race-
Like you, seek shelter in a foreign place?
As often as the night obscures the skies
With humid shades, or twinkling stars arise,
Anchises' angry ghost in dreams appears,
Chides my delay, and fills my soul with fears:
And young Ascanius justly may complain,
Defrauded of his fate, and destin'd reign.

E'en now the herald of the gods appear'd-
Waking I saw him, and his message heard.
From Jove he came commission'd, heavenly
bright

With radiant beams, and manifest to sight (The sender and the sent I both attest:) These walls he enter'd, and these words express'd.

Fair queen, oppose not what the gods command: Forc'd by my fate, I leave your happy land."

Thus while he spoke, already she began With sparkling eyes to view the guilty man, From head to foot, survey'd his person o'er, Nor longer these outrageous threats forbore: "False as thou art, and more than false, for sworn!

Not sprung from noble blood, nor goddess-born,
But hewn from harden'd entrails of a rock!
And rough Hyrcanian tigers gave thee suck!
Why should I fawn? what have I worse to fear?
Did he once look, or lend a list'ning ear,
Sigh'd when I sobb'd, or shed one kindly tear?
All symptoms of a base ungrateful mind,
So foul, that which is worse 't is hard to find.
Of man's injustice why should I complain?
The gods, and Jove himself, behold in vain
Triumphant treason; yet no thunder flies;
Nor Juno views my wrongs, with equal eyes:
Faithless is earth, and faithless are the skies!
Justice is fled, and truth is now no more!
I sav'd the shipwreck'd exile on my shore;
With needful food his hungry Trojans fed;
I took the traitor to my throne and bed:
Fool that I was-'t is little to repeat
The rest-I stor'd and rigg'd his ruin'd fleet.
I rave, I rave! a god's command he pleads,
And makes heav'n accessory to his deeds.
Now Lycian lots, and now the Delian god,
Now Hermes is employ'd from Jove's abode,
To warn him hence; as if the peaceful state
Of heav'nly pow'rs were touch'd with human
But go! thy flight no longer I detain [fate.
Go! seek thy promis'd kingdom through the
main!

Yet, if the heav'ns will hear my pious vow,
The faithless waves, not half so false as thou,

Abruptly here she stops-then turns away Her loathing eyes, and shuns the sight of day. Amaz'd he stood, revolving in his mind What speech to frame, and what excuse to find. Her fearful maids their fearful mistress led,And softly laid her on her iv'ry bed.

But good Eneas, though he much desir'd To give that pity which her grief requir'dThough much he mourn'd and labour'd with his love

Resolv'd at length, obeys the will of Jove;
Reviews his forces: they with early care
Unmoor their vessels, and for sea prepare.
The fleet is soon afloat, in all its pride;
And well-caulk'd galleys in the harbour ride.
Then oaks for oars they fell'd; or, as they stood,
Of its green arms despoil'd the growing wood,
Studious of flight. The beach is cover'd
o'er

With Trojan bands that blacken all the shore:
On ev'ry side are seen, descending down,
Thick swarms of soldiers, loaden from the town.
Thus, in battalia, march imbodied ants,
Fearful of winter, and of future wants,
T' invade the corn, and to their cells convey
The plunder'd forage of their yellow prey.
The sable troops, along the narrow tracks,
Scarce bear the weighty burden on their backs:
Some set their shoulders to the pond'rous grain;
Some guard the spoil, some lash the lagging
train;

All ply their sev'ral tasks, and equal toil sustain.
What pangs the tender breast of Dido tore,
When from the tow'r she saw the cover'd shore,
And heard the shouts of sailors, from afar,
Mix'd with the murmurs of the wat'ry war!
All-powerful Love! what changes canst thou

cause

In human hearts, subjected to thy laws!
Once more her haughty soul the tyrant bends:
To pray'rs and mean submissions she descends.
No female arts or aids she left untried,
Nor counsels unexplor'd, before she died.
"Look, Anna! look! the Trojans crowd to sea;
They spread their canvass, and their anchors
weigh.

The shouting crew their ships with garlands bind,

Invoke the sea-gods, and invite the wind. Could I have thought this threat'ning blow c near,

My tender soul had been forewarn'd to bear.
But do not you my last request deny :
With yon perfidious man your int'rest try,
And bring me news, if I must live or die.
You are his fav'rite; you alone can find
The dark recesses of his inmost mind:
In all his trusted secrets you have part,
And know the soft approaches of his heart.
Haste then, and humbly seek my haughty fou
Tell him, I did not with the Grecians go,
Nor did my fleet against his friends employ,
Nor swore the ruin of unhappy Troy,
Nor mov'd with hands profane his father's dust:
Why should he then reject a suit so just?
Whom does he shun? and whither would he
fly ?

Can he this last, this only pray'r deny ?
Let him at least his dangerous flight delay ?
Wait better winds, and hope a calmer sea.
The nuptials, he disclaims, I urge no more:
Let him pursue the promis'd Latin shore,
A short delay is all I ask him now-
A pause of grief, an interval from wo,
Till my soft soul be temper'd to sustain
Accustom'd sorrows, and inur'd to pain.
If you in pity grant this one request,
My death shall glut the hatred of his breast."
This mournful message pious Anna bears,
And seconds, with her own, her sister's tears:
But all her arts are still employ'd in vain:
Again she comes, and is refus'd again.
His harden'd heart nor pray'rs nor threat'nings.

move;

Fate, and the god, had stopp'd his ears to love.

As when the winds their airy quarrel try,
Justling from ev'ry quarter of the sky,
This way and that the mountain oak they bend;
His boughs they shatter, and his branches rend;
With leaves and falling mast they spread the
ground;

The hollow valleys echo to the sound:
Unmov'd, the royal plant their fury mocks,
Or, shaken, clings more closely to the rocks:
Far as he shoots his tow'ring head on high,
So deep in earth his fix'd foundations lie.
No less a storm the Trojan hero bears;
Thick messages and loud complaints he hears,
And bandied words, still beating on his ears.
Sighs, groans, and tears, proclaim his inward
pains;

But the firm purpose of his heart remains.

The wretched queen, pursu'd by cruel Fate, Begins at length the light of heav'n to hate,