Where fhall I first complain? can mighty Jove
Or Juno fuch impieties approve!

The juft Aftræa fure is fled to hell;

Nor more in earth, nor heaven itself will dwell.
Oh Faith! him on my coafts by tempest cast,
Receiving madly, on my throne I plac'd;
His men from famine, and his fleet from fire
I rescued Now the Lycian Lots confpire
With Phœbus; now Jove's envoy through the air
Brings difmal tidings; as if fuch low care
Could reach their thoughts, or their repose disturb!
Thou art a false impoftor, and a fourbe ;
Go, go, pursue thy kingdom through the main,
I hope, if Heaven her justice still retain,
Thou shalt be wreck'd, or caft upon fome rock,
Where thou the name of Dido fhalt invoke:
I'll follow thee in funeral flames, when dead
My ghost shall thee attend at board and bed,
And when the Gods on thee their vengeance fhow,
That welcome news fhall comfort me below.
This faying, from his hated fight she fled,
Conducted by her damfels to her bed;
Yet reftlefs fhe arofe, and looking out,
Beholds the fleet, and hears the feamen shout:
When great Æneas pafs'd before the guard,
To make a view how all things were prepar'd.
Ah cruel Love! to what dost thou inforce
Poor mortal breafts! Again fhe hath recourse
To tears and prayers, again fhe feels the smart
Of a fresh wound from his tyrannic dart.
G

That

That the no ways nor means may leave untry'd,
Thus to her fifter the herfelf apply'd:
Dear sister, my resentment had not been
So moving, if this fate I had foreseen;
Therefore to me this last kind office do,
Thou haft fome intereft in our fcornful foe,
He trufts to thee the counfels of his mind,
Thou his foft hours, and free accefs canft find :
Tell him I fent not to the Ilian coaft

My fleet to aid the Greeks; his father's ghost
I never did difturb: afk him to lend

To this, the laft request that I shall send,
A gentle ear; I wish that he may find
A happy paffage, and a profperous wind,
The contract I don't plead, which he betray'd,
Nor that his promis'd conqueft be delay'd;
All that I afk is but a fhort reprieve,

Till I forget to love, and learn to grieve;
Some paufe and refpite only I require,

Till with my tears I fhall have quench'd my fire.
If thy addrefs can but obtain one day

Or two, my death that service shall repay.
Thus fhe intreats; fuch meffages with tears
Condoling Anne to him, and from him bears:
But him no prayers, no arguments can move;
The Fates refift, his ears are ftopt by Jove.

As when fierce northern blafts from th' Alps defcend,
From his firm roots with ftruggling gufts to rend
An aged sturdy oak, the rattling found

Grows loud, with leaves and fcatter'd arms the ground

Is over-laid; yet he ftands fixt, as high

As his proud head is rais'd towards the sky,
So low towards hell his roots defcend. With prayers
And tears the Hero thus affail'd, great cares
He fmothers in his breaft, yet keeps his poft,

All their addreffes and their labour loft.
Then the deceives her fifter with a smile:
Anne in the inner court erect a pile;
Thereon his arms and once-lov'd portrait lay,
Thither our fatal marriage-bed convey ;
All curfed monuments of him with fire
We muft abolith (fo the Gods require.)
She gives her credit for no worfe effect
Than from Sichæus' death fhe did fufpe&t,
And her commands obeys.

Aurora now had left Tithonus' bed,

And o'er the world her blufhing rays did fpread;
The Queen beheld, as foon as day appear'd,
The navy under fail, the haven clear'd;

Thrice with her hand her naked breaft fhe knocks,
And from her forehead tears her golden locks.
O Jove, the cry'd, and fhall he thus delude
Me and my realm! why is he not purfued?
Arm, arm, the cry'd, and let our Tyrians board
With ours his fleet, and carry fire and fword;
Leave nothing unattempted to destroy
That perjur'd race, then let us die with joy.
What if th' event of war uncertain were ?
Nor death, nor danger, can the defperate fear.

But oh too late! this thing I fhould have done,
When first I plac'd the traitor on my throne.
Behold the faith of him who fav'd from fire
His honour'd houfhold Gods, his aged fire
His pious fhoulders from Troy's flames did bear ;
Why did I not his carcase piece-meal tear,
And caft it in the fea? why not destroy
All his companions, and beloved boy
Afcanius? and his tender limbs have drest,
And made the father on the fon to feaft?
Thou Sun, whose luftre all things here below
Surveys; and Juno, confcious of my woe;
Revengeful Furies, and Queen Hecate,
Receive and grant my prayer? If he the fea
Muft needs escape, and reach th' Aufonian land,
If Jove decree it, Jove's decree must stand;
When landed, may he be with arms opprest
By his rebelling people, be diftreft

By exile from his country, be divorc'd
From young Afcanius' fight, and be enforc'd
To implore foreign aids, and lose his friends
By violent and undeferved ends!

When to conditions of unequal peace
He fhall fubmit, then may he not poffefs,
Kingdom nor life, and find his funeral

I' th' fands, when he before his day fhall fall!
And ye, oh Tyrians, with immortal hate
Pursue this race, this fervice dedicate
To my deplored afhes, let there be
?Twixt us and them no league nor amity.

May

May from my bones a new Achilles rife,
That shall infest the Trojan Colonies

With fire and fword, and famine, when at length
Time to our great attempts contributes strength;
Our feas, our shores, our armies theirs oppose,
And may our children be for ever foes!
A ghaftly paleness death's approach portends,
Then trembling she the fatal pile afcends;
Viewing the Trojan reliques, fhe unfheath'd
Eneas' fword, not for that ufe bequeath'd:
Then on the guilty bed fhe gently lays
Herself, and foftly thus lamenting prays;

Dear reliques, whilst that Gods and Fates give leave,
Free me from care, and my glad foul receive.
That date which Fortune gave, I now must end,
And to the fhades a noble ghost defcend.
Sichæus' blood, by his falfe brother fpilt,
I have reveng'd, and a proud city built;
Happy, alas; too happy I had liv'd,
Had not the Trojan on my coaft arriv’d.
But fhall I die without revenge? yet die
Thus, thus with joy to thy Sichæus fly.
My confcious foe my funeral fire fhall view
From fea, and may that omen him purfue!
Her fainting hand let fall the fword befmear'd
With blood, and then the mortal wound appear'd;
Through all the court the fright and clamours rife,
Which the whole city fills with fears and cries,
As loud as if her Carthage, or old Tyre
The foe had entered, and had fet on fire.