Not far, a rifing hillock ftood in view;
Sharp myrtles, on the fides, and cornels grew.
There, while I went to crop the sylvan scenes,
And shade our altar with their leafy greens,
I pull'd a plant (with horror I relate
A prodigy fo ftrange, and full of fate);
The rooted fibres rofe; and from the wound,
Black bloody drops distill'd upon the ground.
Mute, and amaz'd, my hair with terror stood
Fear shrunk my finews, and congeal'd my blood:
Man'd once again, another plant I try,
That other guih'd with the fame fanguine dye.
Then, fearing guilt for fome offence unknown,
With prayers and vows the Dryads I atone;
With all the fifters of the woods, and moft
The god of arms, who rules the Thracian coaft:
That they, or he, thefe omens would avert;
Release our fears, and better figns impart.
Clear'd, as I thought, and fully fix'd at length
To learn the caufe, I tugg'd with all my strength:
I bent my knees against the ground; once more
The violated myrtle ran with gore.
Scarce dare I tell the fequel: from the womb
Of wounded earth, and caverns of the tomb,
A groan as of a troubled ghost renew'd
My fright, and then these dreadful words enfued:
Why doft thou thus my bury'd body rend?
O fpare the corpfe of thy unhappy friend!
Spare to pollute thy pious hands with blood :
The tears diftil not from the wounded wood;
B 2
But every drop this living tree contains
Is kindred blood, and ran in Trojan veins :
O fly from this unhofpitable shore,
Warn'd by my fate; for I am Polydore !
Here loads of lances, in my blood embrued,
Again fhoot upward, by my blood renew'd.
My faltering tongue and shivering limbs declare
My horror, and in briftles rofe my hair.
When Troy with Grecian arms was closely pent, 70
Old Priam, fearful of the war's event,
This hapless Polydore to Thracia fent.
Loaded with gold, he sent his darling far
From noife and tumults, and destructive war:
Committed to the faithlefs tyrant's care:
Who, when he faw the power of Troy decline,
Forfook the weaker, with the strong to join:
Broke every bond of nature, and of truth :
And murder'd, for his wealth, the royal youth.
Q facred hunger of pernicious gold,
What bands of faith can impious lucre hold!
Now, when my foul had shaken off her fears,
1 call my father, and the Trojan peers :
Relate the prodigies of heaven, require
What he commands, and their advice defire.
All vote to leave that execrable shore,
Polluted with the blood of Polydore.
But ere we fail, his funeral rites prepare;
Then, to his ghost, a tomb and altars rear.
La mournful pomp the matrons walk the round: 90
With baleful cypress and blue fillets crown'd;
With eyes dejected, and with hair unbound.
Then bowls of tepid milk and blood we pour,
And thrice invoke the foul of Polydore.
Now when the raging ftorms no longer reign;
But fouthern gales invite us to the main;
We launch our veffels, with a profperous wind;
And leave the cities and the fhores behind.
An island in th' Ægean main appears;
Neptune and watery Doris claim it theirs.
It floated once, till Phoebus fix'd the fides
To rooted earth, and now it braves the tides.
Here, borne by friendly winds, we come afhore,
With needful ease our weary limbs restore:
And the fun's temple and his town adore.
Anius the priest, and king, with laurel crown'd,
His hoary locks with purple fillets bound,
Who faw my fire the Delian fhore afcend,
Came forth with eager hafte to meet his friend :
Invites him to his palace: and in fign
Of ancient love, their plighted hands they join.
Then to the temple of the god I went;
And thus before the fhrine my vows present:
Give, O Thymbræus, give a refting-place
To the fad relicks of the Trojan race:
A feat fecure, a region of their own,
A lafting empire, and a happier town.
Where fhall we fix, where fhall our labours end,
Whom shall we follow, and what fate attend?
Let not my prayers a doubtful anfwer find,
But in clear auguries unveil thy mind.
Scarce had I faid; he fhook the holy ground,
The laurels, and the lofty hills around:
And from the tripos rufh'd a bellowing found.
Proftrate we fell, confefs'd the present god;
Who gave this anfwer from his dark abode :
Undaunted youths, go feek that mother earth
From which your ancestors derive their birth,
The foil that fent you forth, her ancient race,
In her old bofom, fhall again embrace.
Through the wide world th' Æneian house shall reign,
And childrens children fhall the crown fuftain.
Thus Phoebus did our future fates difclofe:
A mighty tumult, mix'd with joy, arose.
All are concern'd to know what place the god 135 Affign'd, and where determin'd our abode. My father, long revolving in his mind.
The race and lineage of the Trojan kind,
Thus anfwer'd their demands: Ye princes, hear
Your pleafing fortune; and difpel your fear.
The fruitful ifle of Crete, well known to fame,
Sacred of old to Jove's imperial name,
In the mid ocean lies with large command;
And on its plains a hundred cities ftand.
Another Ida rifes there; and we
From thence derive our Trojan ancestry.
From thence, as 'tis divulg'd by certain fame,
To the Rhætean fhores old Teucer came:
There fix'd, and there the feat of empire chofe,
Ere Ilium and the Trojan towers arofe.
In humble vales they built their foft abodes :
Till Cybele, the mother of the gods,
With tinkling cymbals, charm'd th' Idean woods.
She fecret rites and ceremonies taught,
And to the yoke the favage lions brought.
Let us the land, which heaven appoints, explore;
Appease the winds, and feek the Gnoffian fhore.
If Jove affift the paffage of our fleet,
The third propitious dawn difcovers Crete.
Thus having faid, the facrifices laid
On fmoaking altars, to the gods he paid.
A bull to Neptune, an oblation due,
Another bull to bright Apollo flew :
A milk-white ewe the western winds to please:
And one coal black to calm the ftormy feas.
Ere this, a flying rumour had been spread,
That fierce Idomeneus from Crete was fled;
Expell'd and exil'd; that the coaft was free
From foreign or domeftic enemy:
We leave the Delian ports, and put to fea.
By Naxos, fam'd for vintage, make our way:
Then green Donyfa pafs; and fail in fight
Of Paros ifle, with marble quarries white...
We pass the scatter'd ifles of Cyclades,
That, fcarce diftinguish'd, feem to ftud the feas. 175 The fhouts of failors double near the fhores;
They ftretch their canvas, and they ply their oars.
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