The water, consecrate for sacrifice,
Appears all black to her amazed eyes;
The wine to putrid blood converted flows,
Which from her none, not her own sister, knows.
Besides there stood, as sacred to her lord 3,
A marble temple which she much ador'd,
With snowy fleeces and fresh garlands crown'd;
Hence every night proceeds a dreadful sound;
Her husband's voice invites her to his tomb,
And dismal owls presage the ills to come.
Besides, the prophecies of wizards old
Increas'd her terror, and her fall foretold;
Scorn'd and deserted to herself she seems,
And finds Æneas cruel in her dreams.
So to mad Pentheus double Thebes appears,
And furies howl in his distemper'd ears.
Orestes so, with like distraction tost,
Is made to fly his mother's angry ghost.
Now grief and fury to their height arrive;
Death she decrees, and thus does it contrive.
Her grieved sister, with a cheerful grace,
(Hope well dissembled shining in her face)
She thus deceives: Dear Sister! let us prove
The cure I have invented for my love.
Beyond the land of Ethiopia lies
The place where Atlas does support the skies;
Hence came an old magician that did keep
The' Hesperian fruit, and made the dragon sleep:
Her potent charms do troubled souls relieve,
And, where she lists, make calmest minds to grieve:
The course of rivers, and of heav'n can stop,
And call trees down from the' airy mountain's top.
Witness, ye Gods! and thou my dearest part!
How loth I am to tempt this guilty art.
Erect a pile, and on it let us place
That bed where I my ruin did embrace;
With all the relics of our impious guest,
Arms, spoils, and presents, let the pile be drest;
(The knowing woman thus prescribes) that we
May rase the man out of our memory.'
Thus speaks the Queen, but hides the fatal end
For which she doth those sacred rites pretend.
Nor worst effects of grief her sister thought
Would follow, than Sichæus' murder wrought;
Therefore obeys her: and now, heaped high
The cloven oaks and lofty pines do lie;
Hung all with wreaths and flowery garlands round,
So by herself was her own funeral crown'd!
Upon the top the Trojan's image lies,
And his sharp sword, wherewith anon she dies.
They by the altar stand, while with loose hair
The magic prophetess begins her pray'r:
On Chaos, Erebus and all the gods,
Which in th' infernal shades have their abodes,
She loudly calls, besprinkling all the room
With drops, suppos'd from Lethe'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 every god,
And every 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 silence fell;
But not on Dido! whose untamed mind
Refus'd to be by sacred night confin'd:
A double passion in her breast does move,
Love, and fierce anger for neglected love.
Thus she afflicts her soul: What shall I do?
With fate inverted shall I humbly woo?
And some proud prince, in wild Numidia born,
Pray to accept me, and forget my scorn?
Or shall I with the' ungrateful Trojan go,
Quit all my state, and wait upon my foe?
Is not enough, by sad experience, known
The perjur'd race of false Laomedon?
With my Sidonians shall I give them chase,
Bands hardly forced from their native place?
No;-die! and let this sword thy fury tame;
Nought but thy blood can quench this guilty flame.
Ah, Sister! vanquish'd with my passion, thou
Betray'dst me first, dispensing 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 enraged While the Dardanian does securely rest [breast, In his tall ship, 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 colour, all like Mercury. 'Fair Venus' seed! canst thou indulge thy sleep, Nor better guard in such great danger keep? Mad, by neglect to lose so fair a wind! If here thy ships the purple morning find, Thou shalt behold this hostile harbour shine With a new fleet, and fires, to ruin thine:
She meditates revenge, resolv'd to die;
Weigh anchor quickly, and her fury fly.'
This said, the god in shades of night retir'd.
Amaz'd Æneas, with the warning fir'd,
Shakes off dull sleep, and rousing up his men;
Behold! the gods command our flight again.
Fall to your oars, and all your canvass apread:
What god soe'er that thus vouchsafes to lead,
We follow gladly, and thy will obey;
Assist us still, smoothing our happy way,
And make the rest propitious!'-With that word
He cuts the cable with his shining sword:
Through all the navy doth like ardour reign,
They quit the shore, and rush into the main:
Plac'd on their banks, the lusty Trojans sweep
Neptune's smooth face, and cleave the yielding deep.
ON THE PICTURE OF A FAIR YOUTH,
TAKEN AFTER HE WAS DEAD.
As 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 connot fright them from their wonted place.
Alive, the hand of crooked Age had marr'd
Those lovely features which cold Death has spar'd.
No wonder then he sped in love so well,
When his high passion he had breath to tell;
When that accomplish'd soul, in this fair frame,
No business had but to persuade that dame,
Whose mutual love advanc'd the youth so high,
That, but to heav'n, he could no higher fly.
ON A BREDE of diverS COLOURS,
TWICE twenty slender virgin fingers twine
This curious web, where all their fancies shine.
As Nature them, so they this shade have wrought,
Soft as their hands, and various as their thought.
Not Juno's bird when, his fair train dispread,
He woos the female to his painted bed;
No, not the bow, which so adorns the skies,
So glorious is, or boasts so many dyes.
Now for some ages had the pride of Spain
Made the sun shine on half the world in vain,
While she bid War, to all that durst, supply
The place of those her cruelty made die.
Of Nature's bounty men forbore to taste,
And the best portion of the earth lay waste.
From the new world her silver and her gold
Came, like a tempest, to confound the old:
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