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To wrench the Darts that in his Buckler light,
Urg'd and o'er-labour'd in unequal fight,
At last resolv’d, he throws with all his force
Full at the Temples of the warlike Horse :
Betwixt the Temples pafs'd th' unerring Spear,
And piercing stood transfixt from Ear to Ear.
Seiz'd with the sudden Pain, surpriz'd with Fright,
The Courser bounds aloft and stands upright:
He beats his Hoofs awhile in Air; then pret
With anguish, Aloundring falls the gen'rous Beast,
And his cast Rider with his weight oppreft.
From either Hoft the mingled Shouts and Cries
Of Trojans and Rutulians rend the Skies.
Æneas hast’ning way'd his fatal Sword
High o'er his Head, with this reproachful Word:
Now, where are now thy Vaunts, the fierce Disdain
of proud Mezentius, and the lofty strain?
Strugling, and wildly staring on the Skies,
With scarce recover'd Breath, he thus replies:
Why these insulting Threats, this waste of Breath;
To Souls undaunted, and secure of Death:
*Tis no Dishonour for the Brave to die;
Nor came I here with hope of victory;
But, with a glorious Fate, to end my pain z
When Lausus fell, I was already slain :
Nor ask I Life,
My dying Son contracted no such Band:
Nor would I take it from his Murd'rer's Hand.
For this, this only Favour let me sue,
(If pity to a conquer'd Foe be due)
Refuse not that: But let my Body have
The last retreat of Human-kind; a Grave.
Too well I know my injur'd Peoples hate ;
Protect me from their Vengeance after Fase;
This Refuge for my poor Remains provide ;
And lay my much-lov'd Lausus by my side ;
He said; and to the Sword his Throat apply'd.
The Crimson Stream diftain's his Arms around;
And the disdainful Soul came rushing thro'the wound,




Wherein me perswades him to make Arms for her

S0% Æneas, then engag'd in a War against the
Latins, and King Turnus: Translated out of the
Eighth Book of Virgil's Æneids.

[spread: OW Night with sable Wings the World o'er

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of Latian Arms, before the Tempest breaks,
Her Husband's timely succour thus bespeaks,
Couch'd in his golden Bed :----
(And, that her pleasing Speech his mind may move,
Inspires it with diviner Charms of Love:)
While adverse Fate conspir'd with Grecian Pow’rs,
To level with the Ground the Trojan Tow’rs,
I begg'd no aid th' Unhappy to reftore,
Nor did thy Succour, nor thy Art implore;
Nor sought, their sinking Empire to sustain,
To urge the Labour of my Lord in vain.
Tho' much I ow'd to Priam's House, and more
The dangers of Æneas did deplore:
But now, by Jove's command, and Fates decree,
His Race is doom'd to reign in Italy,
With humble Suit I ask thy needful Art,
o ftill propitious Pow'r, O Sov’raiga of my Heart,
A Mother stands a Suppliant for a Son:
By silver-footed Thetis thou were won
For fierce Achilles, and the rosie Morn
Mov'd thee with Arms her Memnon to adorn;
Are these my Tears less pow'rful on thy Mind?
Behold what warlike Nations are combin’d,
With Fire and Sword My People to destroy,
And twice to triumph over Me and Troy,


She said; and straight her Arms of snowy hue,
About' her unresolving Husband threw;
Her soft Embraces soon infuse Delire,
His Bones and Marrow fudden warmth inspire ;
And all the Godhead feels the wonted Fire.
Not half fo swift the rowling Thunder Alies,
Or streaks of Lightning Aash along the Skies.
The Goddess pleas'd with her successful Wiles,
And conscious of her conqu’ring Beauty, smiles.
Then thus the good oldGod, (sooth'd with herCharms,
Panting, and half diffolving in her Arms :)
Why seek you reasons for a Cause so just,
Or your own Beauty or my Love distrust :
Long since, had you requir'd my helpful Hand,
You might the Artist, and his Art command
To arın your Trojans : Nor did Jove, or Fare,
Confine their Empire to so fort a date :
And if you now defire new Wars to wage,
My Care, my skill, my Labour I engage,
Whatever melting Merals can conspire,
Or breathing Bellows, or the formning Fire,
I freely promise ; all your doubts remove,
And think no task is difficult to Love.
He said ; and eager to enjoy her Charms,
He snatch'd the lovely Goddess to his Arms ;
Till all infus'd in joy he lay posseft
Of full desire, and sunk to pleasing Reft.

The Beginning of the First Book.

Translated by Mr. Dryden,

Elight of human Kind, and Gods above ;
Parent of Rome ; Propitious Queen of Love ;

Whose vital Pow'r, Air, Earth, and Sea supplies;
And breeds whate'er is born beneath the rowling
For every kind, by thy prolifick might, [Skies:
Springs, and beholds the Regions of the Light :
Thee, Goddess, thee the Clouds and Tempefts fear,
And at thy pleasing Presence disappear :
For thee the Land in fragrant Flow'rs is drest,
For thee the Ocean (miles, and smooths her wavy

[light is blest,
And Heav'n it self with more serene, and purer
For when the rising Spring adorns the Mead,
And a new Scene of Nature stands display'd,
When teeming Budds, and chearful Greens appear,
And Western Gales unlock the lafie Year,
The joyous Birds thy welcome first express,
Whose native Songs thy genial Fire confess :
Then salvage Beasts bound oʻer their Nighted Food,
Struck with thy Darts, and tempt the raging Flood:
All Nature is thy Gift ; Earth, Air, and Sea :
Of all that breaths, the various progeny,
Stung with delight, is goaded on by thee.
O'er barren Mountains, o'er the flow'ry Plain,
The leavy Forest, and the liquid Main,
Extends thy uncontrould and boundless Reign.
Through all the living Regions doft thou move,
And scatter'ft, where thou goest, the kindly Seeds of
Since then the race of every living thing, (Love:
Obeys thy Pow'r; since nothing new can spring
Without thy Warmth, withour thy influence bear,
Or beautiful, or lovefome can appear,
Be thou my aid: My tuneful Song inspire,
And kindle with thy own productive fire;
While all thy Province, Nature, I furvey,
And sing to Memmius an immortal lay
Of Heav'n, and Earth, and every where thy won-

d'rous Pow'r display. To Memmius, under thy sweet Influence born, Whom thou with all thy Gifts andGraces doft adorna.



The rather, then affitt my Muse and me,
Infusing Verses worthy him and thee. [cease,
Mean time on Land and Sea let barb'rous Discord
And lull the liftning World in universal Peace.
To thee, Mankind their soft repose must owe,
For thou alone that Blessing canft bestow ;
Because the brutal business of the War
Is manag'd by thy dreadful Servant's Care:
Who oft retires from fighting Fields, to prove
The pleasing Pains of thy eternal Love :
And panting on thy Breast, fupinely lyes, (Eyes:
While with thy heavenly Form he feeds his familh'd
Sucks in with open Lips thy balmy Breath, [Death,
By turns restored to Life, and plung'd in pleasing
There while thy curling Limbs about him move,
Involv'd and fetter'd in the Links of Love,
When wilhing all, he nothing can deny,
Thy Charms in that auspicious moment try :
With winning Eloquence our Peace implore,
And Quiet to the weary World restore.

The Beginning of the Second Book.

Translated by Mr. Dryden.

Suave Mari magno, &c. 'roar

: IS pleasant, safely to behold from shoar Not that another's pain is our delight ; But Pains unfelt produce the pleasing Sight. 'Tis pleasant also to behold from far The moving Legions mingled in the War: But much more sweet thy lab'ring steps to guide, To Virtues heights, with Wisdom well supply'd, And all the Magazines of Learning fortify’d:


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