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AVING at large declar'd Jove's embaffy,
Cyllenius from Æneas ftraight doth fly;
He loth to disobey the God's command,
Nor willing to forfake this pleasant land,
Afham'd the kind Eliza to deceive,
But more afraid to take a folemn leave;
He many ways his labouring thoughts revolves,
But fear o'ercoming shame, at last refolves
(Inftructed by the God of Thieves*) to steal
Himself away, and his escape conceal.
He calls his captains, bids them rig the fleet,
That at the port they privately should meet ;
And fome diffembled colour to project,
That Dido fhould not their defign fufpect:
But all in vain he did his plot disguise;
No art a watchful lover can furprize.

She the first motion finds; Love though most fure,
Yet always to itself feems unfecure.

That wicked fame which their first love proclaim'd,
Fore-tells the end: the queen with rage inflam'd,
Thus greets him: Thou diffembler, would'st thou fly
Out of my arms by stealth perfidiously ?

Could not the hand I plighted, nor the love,

Nor thee the fate of dying Dido move?

And in the depth of winter in the night,
Dark as thy black defigns to take thy flight,

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To plow the raging seas to coasts unknown,

The kingdom thou pretend'st to, not thy own!
Were Troy reftor'd, thou should'st miftrust a wind
Falfe as thy vows, and as thy heart unkind.

Fly'ft thou from me? By thefe dear drops of brine
I thee adjure, by that right hand of thine,
By our efpoufals, by our marriage-bed,
If all my kindness aught have merited;
If ever I ftood fair in thy esteem,
From ruin me and my loft houfe redeem.
Cannot my prayers a free acceptance find
Nor my tears foften an obdurate mind?
My fame of chastity, by which the skies
I reacht before, by thee extinguish'd dies.
Into my borders now Iarbus falls,

And my revengeful brother scales my walls;
The wild Numidians will advantage take,
For thee both Tyre and Carthage me forfake.
Hadft thou before thy flight but left with me
A young Æneas, who, resembling thee,
Might in my sight have sported, I had then
Not wholly loft, nor quite deferted been
By thee, no more my husband, but my gueft,
Betray'd to mischiefs, of which death's the least.


With fixed looks he ftands, and in his breast.
By Jove's command, his ftruggling care fuppreft.
Great queen, your favours and defert fo great,
Though numberless, I never fhall forget;
No time, until myself I have forgot,
Out of my heart Eliza's name fhall blot :


But my unwilling flight the Gods inforce,
And that must justify our sad divorce.

Since I muft you forfake, would Fate permit,
To my defires I might my fortune fit;
Troy to her ancient splendour I would raise,
And where I first began, would end my days.
But fince the Lycian Lots, and Delphic God
Have deftin'd Italy for our abode ;

Since you proud Carthage (fled from Tyre) enjoy,
Why should not Latium us receive from Troy?
As for my fon, my father's angry ghost
Tells me his hopes by my delays are croft,
And mighty Jove's ambassador appear'd

With the fame message, whom I saw and heard ;
We both are griev'd when you or I complain,
But much the more when all complaints are vain;
I call to witnefs all the Gods, and thy
Beloved head, the coast of Italy

Against my will I feek.

Whilft thus he speaks, fhe rowls her sparkling eyes, Surveys him round, and thus incens'd replies; Thy mother was no Goddefs, nor thy ftock From Dardanus, but in fome horrid rock, Perfidious wretch, rough Caucasus thee bred, And with their milk Hyrcanian tigers fed. Diffimulation I fhall now forget,

And my referves of rage in order fet.

Could all my prayers and foft entreaties force
Sighs from his breast, or from his look remorfe.


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

The just Astræa fure is fled to hell;

Nor more in earth, nor heaven itself will dwell.
Oh Faith! him on my coafts by tempeft caft,
Receiving madly, on my throne I plac'd;
His men from famine, and his fleet from fire
I refcued: Now the Lycian Lots conspire
With Phoebus; 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 ghoft fhall 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 sight she fled,
Conducted by her damfels to her bed;
Yet restless the arofe, and looking out,
Beholds the fleet, and hears the feamen fhout:
When great Æneas pafs'd before the guard,
To make a view how all things were prepar'd.
Ah cruel Love! to what doft thou inforce
Poor mortal breasts! Again she hath recourse
To tears and prayers, again the feels the finart
Of a fresh wound from his tyrannic dart.


That she no ways nor means may leave untry'd,
Thus to her fifter she herself apply'd :
Dear fifter, my refentment had not been
So moving, if this fate I had foreseen;
Therefore to me this laft 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 access 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 last request that I fhall fend,
A gentle ear; I wish that he may find

A happy passage, 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 aík 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 the 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 blasts from th' Alps defcend,
From his firm roots with struggling gufts to rend
An aged fturdy oak, the rattling found

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

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