To bear the victor's hard commands, or bring
The weight of waters from Hyperia's fpring.
There while you groan beneath the load of life,
They cry, Behold the mighty Hector's wife!
Some haughty Greek, who lives thy tears to fee,
Embitters all thy woes, by naming me.
The thoughts of glory past, and present shame,
A thousand griefs, fhall waken at the name!
May I lie cold before that dreadful day,
Prefs'd with a load of monumental clay!
Thy Hector wrapt in everlasting fleep,
Shall neither hear thee figh, nor fee thee weep.
The Death of DIDO, from Virgil's Eneid, B. IV.
Tranflated by Mr. DRYDEN.
WAS dead of night, when weary bodies clofe
Their eyes in balmy fleep, and foft repofe: The winds no longer whisper thro' the woods, Nor murmuring tides difturb the gentle floods.
The ftars in filent order mov'd around,
And peace, with downy wings, was brooding on the ground.
The flocks and herds, and particolour'd fowl,
Which haunt the woods, or fwim the weedy pool;
Stretch'd on the quiet earth fecurely lay,
Forgetting the past labours of the day.
All else of nature's common gift partake;
Unhappy Dido was alone awake.
Nor fleep or ease the furious queen can find.
Sleep fled her eyes, as quiet fled her mind;
Despair, and rage, and love, divide her heart:
Despair and rage had fome, but love the greater part.
Then thus fhe faid within her fecret mind:
What fhall I do, what fuccour can I find!
Become a fuppliant to Hiarba's pride,
And take my turn, to court and be deny'd!
Shall I with this ungrateful Trojan go,
Forfake an empire, and attend a foe?.
G 6
Himself I refug'd, and his train reliev'd;
'Tis true; but am I fure to be receiv'd?
Can gratitude in Trojan fouls have place!
Laomedon ftill lives in all his race!
Then, fhall I feek alone the churlish crew,
And with my fleet their flying fails purfue?
What force have I but thofe, whom scarce bofore
I drew reluctant from their native fhore?
Will they again embark at my defire,
Once more fuftain the feas, and quit their fecond Tyre?
Rather with steel thy guilty breast invade,
And take the fortune thou thyfelf haft made.
Your pity, fifter, first feduc'd my mind;
Or feconded too well, what I defign'd.
Thefe dear-bought pleasures had I never known,
Had I continu'd free, and ftill my own;
Avoiding love, I had not found despair :
But shar'd with favage beats the common air.
Like them a lonely life I might have led,
Not mourn'd the living, nor disturb'd the dead.
Thefe thoughts fhe brooded in her anxious breast;
On board, the Trojan found more easy rest.
Refolv'd to fail, in fleep he pafs'd the night;
And order'd all things for his early flight.
To whom once more the winged God appears :
Hi: former youthful mien and fhape he wears,
And with this new alarm invades his ears.
Sleep'it thou, O Goddess-born! and canft thou drown
Thy needful cares, so near a hostile town?
Befet with foes: nor hear'ft the western gales
Invite thy paffage, and inspire thy fails?
She harbours in her heart a furious hate;
And thou shalt find the dire effects too late;
Fix'd on revenge, and obftinate to die:
Hafte fwiftly hence, while thou haft pow'r to fly.
The fea with fhips will foon be cover'd o'er,
And blazing firebrands kindle all the fhore.
Prevent her rage, while night obfcures the skies;
And fail before the purple morn arise.
Who knows what hazards thy delay may bring?
Woman's a various and a changeful thing.
Thus Hermes in the dream; then took his flight,
Aloft in air unfeen; and mix'd with night.
Twice warn'd by the celestial meffenger,
The pious prince arofe with hafty fear:
Then rouz'd his drowsy train without delay,
Hafte to your barks; your crooked anchors weigh?
And fpread your flying fails, and stand to fea.
A God commands; he ftood before my fight;
And urg'd us once again to speedy flight.
O facred pow'r, what pow'r foe'er thou art,
To thy blefs'd orders I refign my heart:
Lead thou the way; protect thy Trojan bands;
And profper the dengn thy will commands.
He faid, and drawing forth his flaming fword,
His thund'ring arm divides the many twisted cord:
An emulating zeal infpires his train;
They run, they fnatch; they rub into the main.
With headlong hafte they leave the desert shores,
And brush the liquid feas with lab'ring oars.
Aurora now had left her saffron bed,
And beams of early light the heav'ns o'erfpread,
When from a tow'r the queen, with wakeful eyes,
Saw day point upward from the rofy skies:
She look'd to feaward, but the fea was void,
And scarce in ken the failing fhips defcry'd:
Stung with defpight, and furious with despair,
She ftruck her trembling breaft, and tore her hair.
And shall th' ungrateful traitor go, fhe faid;
My land forfaken, and my love betray'd?
Shall we not arm, nor rush from ev'ry street,
To follow, fink, and burn his perjur'd fleet?
Hafte, haul my gallies out, pursue the foe:
Bring flaming brands, fet fail, and swiftly row.
What have I faid? Where am I? Fury turns
My brain; and my distemper'd bosom burns.
Then, when I gave my perfon and my throne,
This hate, this rage, had been more timely shown.
See now the promis'd faith, the vaunted name,
The pious man, who rushing through the flame,
Preferv'd his Gods, and to the Phrygian fhore
The burthen of his feeble father bore!
I should have torn him piece-meal; ftrow'd in floods
His fcatter'd limbs, or left expos'd in woods:
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