neis proceeds in his relation: he gives an account of the fleet with which he failed, and the fuccefs of his first voyage to Thrace; from thence he directs his course to Delos, and asks the oracle what place the Gods had appointed for his habitation? By a mistake of the oracle's anfwer, he fettles in Crete : his houfhold Gods give him the true fenfe of the oracle in a dream: he follows their advice, and makes the best of his way for Italy: he is caft on feveral fhores, and meets with very furprizing adventures, till at length he lands on Sicily; where his father Anchifes dies. This is the place he was failing from, when the tempeft rofe, and threw him upon the Carthaginian coaft.
WHEN heaven had overturn'd th' Trojan state,
And Priam's throne, by too fevere a fate :
When ruin'd Troy became the Grecians prey,
And Ilium's lofty towers in afhes lay:
Warn'd by celeftial omens, we retreat,
To feek in foreign lands a happier feat.
Near old Antandros, and at Ida's foot,
The timber of the facred groves we cut;
And build our fleet: uncertain yet to find
What place the gods for our repose affign'd.
Friends daily flock, and fcarce the kindly spring
Began to cloathe the ground, and birds to sing :
When old Anchifes fummon'd all to fea :
The crew, my father and the fates obey.
With fighs and tears I leave my native fhore,
And empty fields, where Ilium stood before.
My fire, my fon, our lefs, and greater gods,
All fail at once; and cleave the briny floods.
Against our coast appears a spacious land,
Which once the fierce Lycurgus did command:
Thracia the name; the people bold in war;
Vaft are their fields, and tillage is their care.
A hofpitable realm, while fate was kind;
With Troy in friendship and religion join'd.
I land, with lucklefs omens; then adore
Their gods, and draw a line along the shore:
I lay the deep foundations of a wall:
And Enos, nam'd from me, the city call.
To Dionæan Venus vows are paid,
And all the powers that rifing labours aid;
A bull on Jove's imperial altar laid.
Not far, a rifing hillock stood in view;
Sharp myrtles, on the fides, and cornels grew.
There, while I went to crop the fylvan 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 diftill'd upon the ground.
Mute, and amaz'd, my hair with terror stood;
Fear fhrunk my finews, and congeal'd my blood:
Man'd once again, another plant I try,
That other gush'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 most
The god of arms, who rules the Thracian coaft:
That they, or he, these 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 ftrength :
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?
Ofpare the corpfe of thy unhappy friend!
Spare to pollute thy pious hands with blood:
The tears diftil not from the wounded wood;
But every drop this living tree contains
Is kindred blood, and ran in Trojan veins :
O fly from this unhospitable 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 bristles rose 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 fent his darling far
From noife and tumults, and deftructive war:
Committed to the faithlefs tyrant's care:
Who, when he saw 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.
O facred hunger of pernicious gold,
What bands of faith can impious lucre hold!
Now, when my foul had thaken off her fears,
I 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.
In mournful pomp the matrons walk the round: 90
With baleful cyprefs 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 storms 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 fhall we follow, and what fate attend?
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