AN ESSAY Ʋpon two of VIRGIL'S ECLOGUES, AND TWO BOOK'S OF HIS AENEIS (If this be not enough) Towards the Translation of the whole.
BY JAMES HARRINGTON.
Ce ne sont pas nos folies qui me font rire,
Ce sont nos sagesses.—Montaigne.
London, Printed by T. C. for Thomas Brewster [...] the sign of the three Bibles at the west end of Pauls, 1658.
Epistle to the READER.
I Have reason'd to as much purpose as if I had rimed, and now I think shall rime to as much purpose as if I had reason'd. All's one, a man that hath nothing to entertain himself withal but a pen, must be contented as others be, or should be with their estates, whether narrow or plentiful. Be a mans estate as narrow as it will, his natural necessities require of the earth variety of fruits; much more doth his delight that hath a garden, that it should produce him variety of flowers. A mans study, unless it be Law or Theology, which commonly is his bread, is his garden, in which he may affirm a rose or a violet to be the best flower, and yet be unwilling it should not be furnished with greater variety. Indeed not Nature only, but her Maker is apparently [Page]delighted with variety; his plantations of heaven and earth are not indued or sowed with one, but divers influences, or seeds, and his nearer resemblance the soul of man is impregnated with divers faculties. The heavens and the earth have their seasons to play with flowers as well as to work at harvest: and the soul of man is as well indued with phansie as with reason when memory: the harvest of reason when she is predominate, is natural Theology or Phylosophy, that of memory; story, and prudence: Phansie of her self (that is where the other two do not check but ohey her) produceth but a flower, which is Poetry. Others have gone farther about for the vindication of this Art, not (I think) to come the nearest way home; seeing by thus much it is clear enough that Poetry is not the wine of Divels, but a sprightly liquor infused into the soul by God himself. It is true [Page]the Divel may stumb it, but so he may reason or memory, which in this case become so much the more deadly draughts, as fraud is more poisonous then fiction, or revenge and malice then wantonness. To these arguments from reason I might add experience, exemplifi'd in the greatest masters of the gravest Arts, as Moses, Lycurgus, and Machiavil, all sufficiently known to have exercised and delighted themselves with Poetry. I would willingly walk in my study with this horse of the Muses in my hand, and sometimes mount for my recreation, that is, if I may be allow'd any thing a good seat, and not ruin'd with the Ladies. The career I have chosen, is that where the ring was never yet taken nor touched, so that at worst I shall but fail with the best companie. In which opinion I am so confident that I am thought pleasant.
Ah me.
THe man's unblest in time or season
That neither thrives by rime nor reason.
Reason hath been a sword of might.
And rime hath been a forked dart.
Reason could have subdu'd Sir Knight.
And rime have reach'd a Ladies heart.
In me alone a rime or reason
Must either be a crime or treason.
Courage.
WHo writes doth launch a ship, that should not pray
For calms, but winds to make her streamers play:
For live she never shall, except the weather
To set upon her can but wag her feather.
ECLOGUES OR, PASTORALS.
Argument.
THe occasion of writing this Eclogue and the next was this, When after the death of Julius Caesar, slain in the Senate, Augustus his son, by a war against them that slew him, and against Anthony, had obtained the victory of them all, he divided the lands of the inhabitants of Cremona among his souldiers, meerly because they had quarterd his enemies, whom they were not able to resist, and the lands of Cremona not sufficing for this use, he also divided those of Mantua after the same manner, for no other reason then that Mantua was neerest Cremona. Virgil being an inhabitant of Mantua, and coming by this means to lose his patrimony, repaired unto Rome, and there by the favour of the great ones, obtained such particular respect, that he alone continu'd his ancient possession; which nevertheless was siezed by Arius the Centurion, who took it so ill to be removed, that if Virgil had not escaped his fury by plunging himself into the river Mincius, the Centurion had kill'd him. In this Eclogue the Poet represents himself by Tityrus, by Melibeus the miserable condition of those of Mantua: Which City he coucheth under the name of Galatea; under that of Amarillis, Rome; by the god he celebrateth, he means Augustus Caesar.
FIRST ECLOGUE
Melibus. Tityrus.
Thou in the shadow of a spreading beech
Dost lie along blest Tityrus, and teach
The woods to eccho Amarillis fair:
While we, enforc'd to change our native air,
Give up the vital breath of our sweet fields.
Tityrus.
O Melibeus, 'tis a god that yields
Our Muse this leisure: many a tender lamb
Out of our fold shall feed his holy flame.
By him my cattel wander as thou seest,
By him my rural pipe plays what she list.
Melibeus.
In truth I do not envy, but admire
What it should be for which throughout the shire
They take away our lands! Ah do but see
How sick I drive my goats along with me:
And look you Tityrus, alas there's one
Can hardly go; but now she ye and upon
The naked flint in yonder hazels, where
She left her twins, and all my hopes this year.
This when our oaks (if we had minded) from
The skies were toucht, was sure enough to come.
This mischief many times I heard full well
Th' unhappy crow from hollow elms foretel.
But Tityrus what is this god of yours?
Tityrus.
I thought that Rome was such a town as ours,
Fool as I was, and that they us'd to keep
Their flocks as we do here, and tended sheep:
So Melibeus I compar'd the lambs
Unto the Ews, the kids unto their dams.
[Page]But she among the Cities over-tops,
As doth the Cypress in a Myrtle cops.
Melibeus.
And what good Tityrus made you at Rome?
Tityrus.
Why truly when I saw the souldiers come,
And here misuse us so; though late it were,
And that it snow'd if I but clipt my hair,
I thought upon it and began to see
What kind of thing it was call'd Liberty.
This lost while I with Galatea griev'd,
Changing for Amarillis I retriev'd:
While th' other held me, I could neither spy
An hope of fredome nor propriety:
Though I the best of all my flock to this
Had sacrific'd, and sent my fattest cheese
Without return to the ungrateful town.
Melibeus.
I marl'd why Amarillis made such moan,
It was for thee: I wonder'd on whose pine
She'd let the apples hang, it was on thine.
While Tityrus with Amarillis kept,
The fountains mourn'd, his Galatea wept.
She fil'd the meddows with her slighted loves,
And broke the silence of resounding groves.
Tityrus.
What could I do? no other means I saw
My servitude to shun, nor could I draw
So neer the gods another way. Mine eyes
Here found the power to whom I sacrifice:
Here first mine ears receiv'd his Oracles.
Shepherd go feed thy flock, and yoak thy bulls.
Melibeus.
Happy old man! for this to thee, thy land
[Page]Remains for ever at thy blest command!
And though some part with sedge, and some with ling
Be overgrown, it is a goodly thing.
Thy calves in kindly pastures shall be rear'd,
Nor get the murrain of a forreign herd.
Happy old man! here by thy native brooks,
In shady valleys shalt thou hear the rooks.
The Bee shall buz with her Hyblean lays
Soft sleep into thine eyes from blooming sprays.
To thee shall warble the melodious rocks,
While woodmen cut their browse, or hew their blocks:
The groans of Turtles from the airy trees,
The murmur of Quist shall joyn with these.
Tityrus.
Wherefore the sea shall drive his scaly shoales
Into the woods, the stag shall browse the poles,
The Parthian shall drink of Arar first,
And rapid Tigris quench the German thirst,
Ere I forget his favour or this grace.
Melibeus.
But we must flit unto some other place,
Be on the torride zone, or frozen hurld,
Or British shores divided from the world.
O might I see but after many years
My house of turfe, my field with yellow ears.
But this the impious souldier must possess,
This corn the barbarous! Ah blessed peace!
See Citizens what discord sows, and who
Must reap! Be sure you graft your apples now
And dress your vineyards. Hence no more shall I
By the green arms of trees protected lie
And see you far away, once happy flocks,
Brouzing the shrubs and hanging on the rocks:
Nor while you nibble shall I pipe your notes
[Page]Sweet as your three leav'd grass. Farewel my Goats.
Tityrus.
Yet Melibeus since the shadows now
Are at their length, and smoaking chimneys show
'Tis late; you may remain with us this night.
Ripe chesnuts, mellow apples shall delight
Your palate, we have cheese enough ith' house,
And you shall lie upon a bed of boughs.
Argument.
BY Meris in this Eclogue, is to be understood Virgils Shepherd or Baylif, who carries a preseot of kids to mollifie the Centurion Arius; by Menalcas is meant Virgil himself, some of whose verses Meris is woed by Lycidas to repeat.
NINTH ECLOGUE.
Lycidas. Meris.
Whither away good Meris, to the town?
Meris.
O Lycidas, the like was never known!
We live to see a guest come in a doors
And say, my friends, this house, these fields are ours,
I pray depart! Nay, and for this (because
Fortune will have obedience to her laws)
Must I these kids unto his worship bear.
But shall not say much good may do you Sir.
Lycidas.
There was a speech me thinks that since among
The gallant Courtiers your Menalcas sung,
[Page]They left him all his goodly fields that reach
Down from the hills to the bald-pated beech.
Meris.
Why so they talk'd indeed; but songs and loves
Are unto souldiers as to eagles doves.
Neither your Meris nor Menalcas now
Had been alive, had the auspicious crow
Out of her hollow roost not stood my friend,
And warn'd me that I should no more contend.
Lycidas.
Is there such wickedness! in thee alone
Menalcas all our melody had gone.
Who should have sung the Nymphs? Our springs with bowers,
Have clouded or have star'd our fields with flowers?
Who ere made verse like that I stole from thee
When thou to Amarillis stolst from me!
Feed Tityrus, the flock, till I return,
I go not far, and drive 'em to the bourn,
But driving make me not more haste then speed,
The Goat is parlous with the horn, take heed.
Mhris.
What then were those to Varus, set by yours;
Varus thy name (if Mantua be ours,
Mantua whose guilt is that she is too neer
Cremona) swans unto the skies shall bear.
Lycidas.
As thou dost hope thy swarm shall scape the Ew,
Or that the honeysuckle shall indue
The strutting udders of thy Cows, begin
If thou hast any more, for I am in:
Me have the sisters made a poet too,
And this our swains throughout the fields avow;
But I believe them not; such strains as these
[Page]To Varus or the Muses swans were geese.
Meris.
I am upon it, and if I can bring
It well to mind, a noble air shall sing.
Come fairest Galatea, come away.
What sport is there for me where Delphins play?
The purple spring here scatters, on the shores
Of creeping rivlets, his delitious stores.
The poplar with the vine hath joyning made
Ʋs party colourd bowers and cooling shade.
Come lovely sea nymph from the furrowd deep,
And let the shores thy flock of billows keep.
Lycidas.
Now that at which the sky grew clear as curds
Last night; I have the tune, what are the words?
Meris.
Why hee dst thou Dapnis antiquated signs?
Behold the star of heav'n born Caesar shines,
Whose Mounth bestows upon the gods of bread
And wine, the ruby crown and golden head.
Engraft thine apples Daphnis and thy pears,
The harvest shall descend upon thine heirs.
You should have more, but all is gone with time:
I could have brought the Sun to bed in rime:
Now me my verses and my voice forsake;
The wolf hath seen me first. But this way make
You merry till Menalcas come and feast
Us on our floury carpets with the rest.
Lycidas.
Ah thou by these hast but my flame increast.
The air to hearken has his murmur ceast.
The silent wave his roughness at thy feet
Hath laid as smooth as glass. That we are yet
But half our way Bianors tomb now shows;
[Page]Here where the shepherds cut him verdant boughs
Here Meris let us sing, thy kids here lay,
We shall be time enough at Mantua.
Or if the moist surprize of night we fear,
Sing as we go, and I the kids will bear.
Meris.
Good Lycidas be said; if first we bring
Our work about, we shall have time to sing.
A Note upon the fore-going Eclogues.
THat the Roman Empire was never founded upon a sufficient ballance of absolute Monarchy, is very true; but not truer then that this was the cause of that impotency and misery in the same, which oppressed both Prince and People. Wherefore (because the error is popular) I shall take this opportunity to propose unto such as place the ballance or foundation of the Roman Empire in a matter of eight or ten thousand Praetorians, a few Quaeries.
1. Whether Tarquine made not such havock of the Roman Nobility, as left the advantage of the ballance of Dominion ten for one in the people? And whether this did not inevitably tend unto the generation of the Commonwealth?
2. Whether the Nobility when they overcame, under Sylla, held not the advantage of the ballance ten for one against the people? And whether this did not inevitably tend unto the generation of Monarchy?
3. Whether Sylla did not plant forry seven Legions, or one hundred and twenty thousand Veteranes in Italy upon Lands taken in the war? Whether this president were not followed by the Triumvirs first, then by Augustus Caesar, as in these Eclogues? and whether this were not the ballance of the Roman Monarchy?
4. Whether such Lands confer'd upon the Souldery came not to be called benefices, and the incumbents beneficiaries? and whether the policy of the Turkish Timars (a word of the same signification) be not hence derived?
5. Whether Alexander Severus were not the first that granted such benefices unto the next heirs of the incumbents, but upon condition they should continue to serve the Emperor in war as formerly, otherwise not?
6. Whether Constantine the Great were not the first that made these benefices (held hitherto for life only) hereditary.
7. Whether the ballance being thus ruined, the Roman Empire subsisted otherwise then by stipendiating strangers or mercenaries, as the Goths and Vandals?
8. Whether this were not the means by which the Goths [Page]and Vandals came to ruine the Roman Empire?
9. Whether the Goths and Vandals having ruined the Roman Empire, did not by their policy place the over ballance of Dominion in their Nobility? and whether this were not the original of government by King, Lords, and Commons, throughout Christendom?
The doctrine of the ballance not sufficiently discover'd or heeded by ancient Historians and Polititians, is the cause why their writings are more dark, and their judgement less steddy or clear in the principles of Government then otherwise they would have been; nevertheless, he who not studying Partys, shall rightly answer these Quaeries out of story, must strike the inevitable light of this truth out of Nature; which once masterd, the whole mystery of Government rightly instituted, or to be rightly instituted, becometh as demonstrable and certain, or as obvious and facile, even to vulgar apprehensions, as the meanest of vulgar Arts.
On the Political Ballance.
NAture is that preserv'd which God began:
The soul of Empire and the soul of man
(Though each of Heav'n be the diviner seed)
Bodies by various temper shape and feed.
Where elements are strong, or where they faint,
'Tis life or death, be thou or wretch or Saint:
Who other steps through blind ambition trod
VIRGIL'S AENEIS. The first Book.
I, He of late that on the slender oate,
Sat piping to the fields an humble note;
Then passing through the woods, indu'd the plains
With vow'd allegiance though to griple swains;
A work with these already in the van:
Now sing the horrid arms of Mars, the man
Whose wandring fate from ruin'd
a Troy.
Ilium boreHis painful course for the
b Italy.
Lavinian shore.Much was he tossed both at sea and land
By Juno's wrath, and that celestial band
Of powr's, which in her quarrel she engag'd:
And much he suffer'd in the wars he wag'd,
Ere he could seat his deities, or found
The mother City on Italian ground;
From whence our Latine predecessors come,
Our Albane fathers, and our haughty Rome.
O Muse record the cause, what had there been
To animate the gods or grieve their Queen,
That she with such a world of woe should wound
The man for piety so much renown'd?
Can passion set ev'n souls in heaven on fire!
Carthage, an ancient City sprung from Tyre,
Once for her wealth and martial arts in vogue,
Against the yellow shores that disimbogue
Rough Tyber, stood to Italy oppos'd;
Juno's delight, the circle that enclos'd
Her heart beyond her Samos; to this plot
(Where hung her arms, where stood her chariot)
Could she the fatal Sisters have enclin'd,
The Empire of the world had been design'd.
But they had told there should descend from Troy
A race that must the Tyrian line destroy,
A soveraign people that the head sublime
Of Empire, should on ruin'd Carthage climbe.
The goddess gald with this, her antient fewd
Revolves, by growing injuries renewd:
The honours done to ravish'd Ganimed,
Who of the hated blood of Troy was bred;
Her beauty foyld and blasted by the foul
Repulse of Paris, dwell in her deep soul.
For these the reliques of the Grecian ire
Some years she wrenchd with seas & bleach'd with fire;
Jealous of Italy as of her Jove,
The wandring Trojan from his harbour drove,
While every element obey'd her doom.
So vast a work it was to raise up Rome!
The Trojan fleet at plough with brazen prows,
The sight of Sicily no sooner loose,
Then Juno feeding her eternal wound,
Thus with her self. Must then the Fates confound
My enterprizes? Yes, they shall convince
Me with their saw, and with their Dardan Prince.
Minerva, when unto her
c Cassandra.
ProphetessOilus offer'd force, could go no less
Then thunder: for the fault of one, her hand
By Jove's good favour, flourisht with his brand,
Sunk an whole Navy, ith' Aegaean straights
Of Grecians, of my confederates,
With whirlewinds took the guilty lover, stuck
Him, gasping flame, upon a pointed rock!
But I the Queen of heaven, from age to age,
With half a foe, a fruitless war must wage,
Nay, still be worsted, who will bend a knee,
Or pay a grain of incense more to me?
Thus fanning hidden fire, she took her way
Into the land of storms, Aeolia.
Here Aeolus, while in his mighty cave,
The hollow winds, and sounding tempests rave,
Upon a lofty tower enthroned bears
A scepter awful to the mutineers;
Who yet with murmur for enlargement seek,
In labour to be born at every creek:
And should the marble womb afford them birth,
Would lave the sea, and mingle heaven and earth.
But Jove, a people that so high are flown,
As with their liberty to shake his throne
Observing, hurl'd upon their necks the rocks
That bow their fury to eternal yoaks;
Gave them a King that curbs the giddy race
With brazen chains, and with an iron mace.
To him lamenting Juno speaks her mind,
Prince of the rocks and ayries of the wind,
Behold the Tyrrhene seas are cover'd o're
With canvas that to me will never lore;
My enemy, in my despite, is bound
To plant his colours on Italian ground:
Unhood thy falcons, slip their leases, throw
Thy haggards off to tyre upon my foe.
For this, De [...]ope, the blackest ey'd,
The fairest Nymph I have shall be thy bride,
And live a constant mark of gratitude,
In lovely copies of thy self renew'd.
Madam (said Aeolus) when we but know
Your pleasure, 'tis obedience we ow,
Who at the table of the gods have place,
And hold our pregnant Empire of your grace.
Then turning with his javelin gave a stroak
That fruitfully disclos'd the teeming rock.
The winged furies from the bottome sweep
The sea, and to the mountains roll the deep.
The chariot of the poles is over driven,
The axel catches fire in groaning heaven.
Untimely night is hatch'd by brooding clouds
That sit the sea. The noise of tearing shrouds
Is answer'd by the shreeks of men beneath,
To whom each object threatens present death.
Ah (says Aeneas) you that chanc'd to fall
While Troy was yet invested with her wall,
On which your wives or aged parents stood,
And saw your valour sacrifice your blood
Unto your Countrey, souls for ever blest!
How oft have I desir'd your envi'd rest!
Thus Hector with Achilles parted well.
Thus great Sarpedon by Patroclus fell.
Why Diomedes could I not from you
Obtain the favour every whit as due,
Where Simois so many shields and helms
And dearer spoils of Heroes overwhelms?
But these, to other sighs, to other brine
That tear his sails, and snap his oars, resign.
A billow charges like a falling rock,
The prow declines, the deck receives the shock.
Some bottomes sound and raise the sand below,
While others foam on liquid Alps in snow.
Three on the shelves (they call the altars) stick,
And other three are stranded in a quick,
Orontes Captain of the Lycian keel,
Engag'd in broken seas that meeting wheel,
Is swallow'd by the gulph. What Troy could save
From fire, is now for plunder to the wave.
The Ilion, Abbas, the Achates, all,
How snug, how tite soever, or how tall,
Are drunken with the tipple of their leaks,
And stagger unto death with giddy decks.
Neptune by this who felt the lower sound
Remove, in great commotion gave a bound
Which from the deep above the raging flood
Advanc'd his calmy head. Intent he stood
Upon the ruine scatter'd round about,
Perceives it Trojan and is out of doubt;
He's no such stranger to his sister Queen
But Juno through her cloud is eas'ly seen.
At which he hales the winds, and rates 'em. Whence?
Sons of the Gyants, this your confidence!
From your high birth forsooth! that ere your leisure
Could give you leave to know our will and pleasure,
You dare to jumble heaven and earth together!
Whom we—But better 'tis to calm the weather.
Be gone, and tell your King what he forgot,
The azure crown and trident are our lot,
He must not lord it here, he may do so
Upon your conyburies Puff-cheeks, go.
His words restore the day: the ships are wrench'd
Out of the shelves and quicks, their jaws unclench'd
By Triton joyning with Cymothoe;
While Neptune in his chariot rolls the sea.
As when some mighty City bursteth out
Into sedition, the ignoble rout
Assault the Palaces, usurp the street
With stones, or brands, or any thing they meet;
(For furies armoury is everywhere)
But if a man of gravity appear,
Whose worth they own, whose piety they know,
Are mute, are planted in the place, and grow
Unto his lips that smooth, that melt their souls:
So hush the waves where Neptune's chariot rolls.
The Trojans leaky, spent and shatter'd, stand
Now for the next which was the Lybian Land.
A bosome in the yielding border lay
The safe retreat unto a calmy bay,
Which, seaward by an Isle is fortifi'd
That drives the foamy croud with either side
On rocks which threaten heaven and aw the deep;
By these the weary billows steal to sleep.
The one whose airy brows are over-grown,
Under the shadow of his oaken crown,
Receives the stranger, and presents his sight
With vari'd scenes of wonder and delight.
I'th other hangs a cave, the dear resort
Of Nymphs that revel in the marble Court;
Where lavish springs in silver eddys run,
And seats are offer'd by the living stone.
The ships that here arrive ensure themselves,
Nor need their crooked teeth to bite the shelves.
Seven gallies with the Prince of all his store
Disbarque, enamour'd of the wished shore.
The sea-sick stooping kiss the flowry vest
Of mother earth and lay their bones to rest.
Achates ploughs with flint and sows the seed
Of flame which wither'd leaves and branches feed.
Some bring the mils and some the soaken wheat:
They yet have better appetites then meat.
Aeneas fullest of his wanted men
(To see if there were any hope in ken)
Had climb'd a rock, upon whose deck he stood
As much as ever tossed by the flood,
While he can neither a dismantled stern,
Nor canvas crest throughout the coast discern.
In grief descending from the helpless crags,
He casts his eye upon an herd of stags
At forrage in the valley, where they fed
In file with three commanders at the head:
His bow and feather'd reeds he takes, to these
The fairest standards stoop like falling trees;
At which in vain the vulgar take the rout
By his unerring hand pursued throughout
The rusling woods, till he have equalled
Unto his ships the number of the dead.
These, with the wine that good Acestes stowd
Into the hould at the Sicilian road;
He destributes unto his fainting troops,
With words that re-inspire the soul that droops.
Companions says he, too well you know
We are not learning what belongs to wo,
But must forget the dolours we out-live
To doubt if God an end to these can give.
Unto the teeth of the Nereian wolf,
Or to the swallow of her sister Gulph,
The forge of Aetna, or her Smiths, what may
We reckon that we have escap'd to day?
If pleasure past be but as treasure lost,
Then pains when they are past may quit the cost.
Through all varieties that can oppose,
Each element conspiring with our foes,
We make our way, and at an easie rate
When we compute the promises of Fate;
For if we thus redeem the Trojan wall,
It stood us yet in more to see it fall.
Reserve your selves for better. Thus he said
With smiling lips, but with an heart that bled.
The Deer are broken up, some strip the side,
And others with their glittering skeans divide
The bleeding quarry into chops yet hot,
That tremble on the spit or warm the pot,
The iron helmet and the brazen shield
Are pots and pans that stew the smoaky field:
Till on the grass they wallow, where at length
Fat venison and old wine retreive their strength.
Hunger appeas'd but wakes another pain;
Gyas and Amycus are call'd in vain:
What of Cloanth, of Lycus is become?
And of Orontes, ah the cruel doom!
Aeneas of the mourners still is chief
And with a never discontinu'd grief.
Jove on the brow of heaven a pause now made,
The poised earth and sail-wing'd sea survey'd,
On mortals and their frail affairs intent;
When Venus full of tears, as he is bent
Point blank upon the Lybian realms and seas,
Invades the thundrer with such moans as these.
Director of the gods and men, you see
What of my Trojans is become and me.
How have they sin'd, that still their punishments
Are but renew'd, while all the world consents.
To hold em off, against your will combin'd?
Or how is it that you have chang'd your mind?
Sure you have made it known to be your doom,
That Italy by Troy should bear great Rome.
With this I sollac'd my afflicted state
When she was ruin'd, poising fate with fate:
Yet cruel fortune, at our charge indu'd
With constancy, pursues her antient few'd.
Antenor through the Greek could find a way
A passage through the Gulph of Adria.
Cross the Lyburnian territory safe,
Subdue the furious torrent of Timave,
That bursting from a mountain in nine streams,
Ploughs the fat valley with his foamy teams,
And there erect his Padua, where at ease
He bears the Trojan arms impal'd with peace.
Why then should some, whose ways you needs must see,
Have less regard to us your progeny,
While we are in our lawful voyage crost,
Tatter'd and torn, and hung on every coast?
Is this the throne, the scepter you inten'd?
Who will be pious if this be the end?
Jove, with the smiles that clear the weather, dips
His coral in the Nectar of her lips,
And thus replies. My Cytherea fair,
Discharge these moving pillows of their care.
What we engage we never shall decline,
Firm as our Atlas stand the fates of thine.
Thy promis'd City shall put forth her towres,
And spring the neerest neighbour unto ours;
'Tis thus upon the roll, and I could strain
A point, because I see thou art in pain,
To make the secrets of the Fates appear
A little more at large, but in thine ear;
This man thy son will have enough to do,
His foes have might and courage, but must bow.
Ere three springs warm him in his Latine throne,
Or the fierce Rutili have been his own
So many winters, all will be secur'd,
Rough nations hewn, his royal seat immur'd:
Then shall he captivate their better parts,
By righteous laws inthroned in their hearts.
But young Ascanius (whom they call'd Jule)
Removing from Lavinium, shall rule,
Till Sol have finisht thirty large carriers,
At Alba, which shall be three hundred years
The seat of Trojan Empire, ere the sons
Of Mars be born among the vestal Nuns,
And Romulus from royal Ilia come
To suck his wolf and then to build thy Rome;
From him the Romans shall descend: to these
I set no bounds of time, of land or seas.
My wife herself shall here compose our wars,
Become the willing nurse of their affairs:
The patronized earth shall gladly own
Her self the client of the Roman gown.
It is decreed, and flowing time shall see
Submissive Greece restore upon her knee
The Trophies that from Trojan ashes came
To the reviving Phoenix of her flame.
Then shall her Caesar (Julius of great
Julus call'd) unto his Empire set
The Ocean, to his fame the starry skies
For frontiers, to which when he shall rise
Loaden with Eastern spoils in spicy smoak,
Him shall the gods embrace and men invoke.
The age succeeding shall relent, obey
Law and Religion, throwing arms away;
With Iron bolts and leavers stanch and bar
The floud-gate and the doleful hinge of war:
Within shall impious fury sit in chains
On piles of swords and spears; with scalding veins,
(His arms behind him in a brazen knot
Securely bound) set up his horrid throat.
This said he sends his Harbinger to take
Up Juno's Carthage for the Trojan wrack;
Who cuts the liquid air with feather'd oars
And casts himself upon the Lybian shores.
The Tyrian courage nor the royal brest
Of Dido strives with Jove or the distrest.
Aeneas now had pass'd a thoughtful night
In musing where he was, and with the light
Is up to hide his fleet and seek this out,
He is at once their General, their Scout.
Nor was it by the Countrey easily guess'd
Whether it were the realm of man or beast:
The coast was desert, and the land untill'd,
(For Carthage yet her self was hardly fill'd)
The bay was strangely over-grown, the flood
In many creeks was cover'd by the wood:
In these he stows his Navy, then away
He and Achates with their javelins stray.
An huntress in the covert passes by,
As in the duske heavens wanton flashes fly,
To whom Harpalice of Thrace were slow,
Her sporting locks like rapid Heber flow;
The ruffling winds that touse her as she goes,
A rifled brest, a naked knee disclose.
The Spartane maid (for this unto the eye
Her dress, her quiver, and her bow imply)
Begins the dialogue. My hearts, I pray
Did any of my sisters go this way?
In pillage of the spotted Linx, they follow
The foamy bore, or did you hear them hollow?
Goddess, (says he) for in that voice, that face
There is no sound, no shew of humane race;
None of thy sisters did we see or hear
Nor if we had could have inform'd thee where,
Who know not where we are; propitious power,
Behold the shipwrack of a forreign shore;
Say what we do, whose fields they be we tread,
To whom we fall; so shall thy flames be fed
By our right hands. Strangers, (says she) not so;
Unto the purple buskin and the bow,
Which is the fashion with the Tyrian Dames,
Belong no such devotions nor flames.
The fields you tread to Carthage appertain,
Where sons of Mars obey a womans reign.
Here Dido by her brother chas'd from Tyre
The scepter sways: volumes her wrongs require.
But I shall touch their tops and run them over.
The greatest Lord of lands, the truest lover
Throughout Phoenicia, in her blooming pride
From her glad parents had receiv'd this bride;
Sichaeus was his name, whose brother then
(Pigmalion the wickedest of men)
Was King of Tyre. This prodigy by stealth
Murders Sichaeus meerly for his wealth,
The body and the fact conceals, beguiles
His sisters flatter'd hopes with many wiles;
Till all in slumber be at length disclos'd
Unto the widdow by her husbands ghost:
His visage wan in dreadful wise he shews,
His wounds, the mazes of the bloody house,
Then beckons to a vault where buried lie
His golden hoards, with which he bids her flie.
She thus resolved, companions in her flight
Loathing and fear of tyranny provide.
Pigmalion's revolting fleet is tow'd
Into rebellion, by the treasure stow'd:
Under the conduct of a woman, on
A canvas wing his golden dream is flown.
Such was the Colony that landed where
You soon will see her rising towres appear.
But whence are you, or whither would you go?
Goddess (says he) the Sun, ere half our wo
Could be express'd, would hide himself: we are
Troys ashes spurn'd and scatter'd into air:
Her hated reliques which the light abhors,
Toss'd by the seas and split upon the shores.
Aeneas is my name, whom wrathful heaven
Exil'd in twenty ships now brought to seven.
A Countrey promis'd by the destinies
I seek, pursuing Italy that flies.
But sure (returns the maid) he has not lost
His way, nor all the gods, that on this coast
Is born, by milder weather or by stress,
As when you see the Queen you will confess.
And as those swans descending from above,
Where they were scatter'd by the bird of Jove,
Tack their white sails, and falling in a round
Together touch or seem to touch the ground,
So does your fleet, so does your landing youth,
If ancient augury have any truth.
This said, in vain recalled by her son,
His Mother Venus as she goes is known;
Who, to conceal him from the gazing crowd,
At parting clothes him with a trusty crowd,
And so to Paphos, where unto the skies
An hundred smoaky altars seek her, hies.
The Trojans haste and rising with their way,
Carthage below from steepy clifs survey.
Wonder commands an halt. The vale, ere while
Sprinkled with sheds, becomes an haughty pile,
The pavements sound, the ardent Tyrians reek,
Some cut, some roll the stone which others seek
In speckled quarries, some the theater
On mighty columns, some the castle rear,
Some spread a common roof, and some their own,
While others lead the wall about the town.
As when the heir apparent of the hive
Calls forth the youth, or when their parents stive
In liquid cells the plunder of the fields;
One brings the burden and another builds,
The eager work with murmur fills the plain,
A drone is not permitted to remain.
Aeneas moves agen and moving cries,
O walls that have the happiness to rise!
Then met by none with what he pleases meets,
And goes invisible into the streets.
A grove that cast a pleasing shade, indued
The mighty City with a solitude,
Which in the middle of the builders lay
Untouched by the threatning ax, since they
Here with the spade discover'd Juno's sign,
An horses head, by which they might divine
Unto their arms and ploughs increase. There stood
A temple in the middle of the wood,
Unto the goddess raised by the Queen,
Which full of either power, and pomp was seen.
The high ascent was brass, the beams were cheek'd
With brass, the gates on brazen hinges shreek'd.
Here first Aeneas met what made him dare
To trust his hopes, and vilifie despair:
For wandring through a world, the pensil struck
As out of Chaos with stupendious luck;
He finds the story of the Trojan flame
Had fill'd the world already with her fame.
Here Agamemnon, there Achilles stood;
Here Priam sacrificed in his blood.
At which he stopt and wept, behold, says he,
Achates, if in all the earth there be
A stranger to our woes, an heart so hard
Where pain wants pity, vertue her reward:
While each of these hath been our harbinger,
What is it man that we should need to fear?
While thus the empty shadows drink his tears
And feed his hopes, the zealous Queen repairs
So to the temple, and with such a train:
As when upon the Taenarean plain,
The fair Oreades by hundreds follow
The quiver-bearing sister of Apollo.
Her incense paid, the Dame intent upon
Her growing Empire, now ascends a throne
Environ'd by her guards; divides, creates
By word or lot, the honours, Magistrates:
While men as Oracle receive her law.
Mean time it seem'd unto the Prince he saw
Antheus, Sergest, Cloanthus, many more
He gave for lost appearing at the door.
Achates, rapt with joy, would streight have had
Him break his cloud; Aeneas though as glad
Yet not so suddain, while he sees a press
About the strangers, waits for the success.
They sue for audience, which granted, thus
Unto the Queen grave Ilioneus.
May't please your sacred Majesty; the hand,
Which by divine indulgence hath obtain'd
To be the foundress of a glorious realm,
And steer rough Nations with a calmy helm,
We ruines of our Troy and of your shore
To gracious pity and relief implore.
O stop the sluces of mistaken ire;
O save our Navy from the threaten'd fire.
We neither bring you war, nor come for prey,
Crimes which our better fortunes could not lay
Unto our charge: what courage then appears
In conquer'd bosomes to create such fears?
There is a Land was call'd Hesperia,
Where once th' Oenotrian plough'd the fertil clay,
A dug of earth that suckles arms; the name
Of late is Italy, at this we aim.
It was the cruelty of wind and weather
That broke us in our course and forc'd us hither.
Yet winds and seas have cast us upon men,
While men would cast us into seas agen;
Your shores are arm'd against a naked brest,
As if the gods were foes to the distress'd.
The wave devours, they threaten with the brand,
We sink, and yet they will not let us land.
A Prince we have, or had, then whose hath fame
For arms or piety no greater name;
To him in kindness, if he see the Sun,
You never will repent to have begun.
This was, this is I trust Aeneas: We
Have friends, Acestes King of Sicily,
Who being of our blood must needs embrace
A favour done unto the Dardan race.
We ask but to Carine upon your shores,
And cut a little wood to make us oars.
This work perform'd immediately we steer
For Italy, if of our Prince we hear;
But if our life be swallow'd by the waves,
For Sicily which will afford us graves.
The sense of Ilioneus approv'd
By all, the Queen at first was somewhat mov'd,
Who thus, invaded by a blush, replies.
Trojans, if diligence or jealousies
Have rougher brows in Empire that is new,
This should not be so strange to such as you.
Be not discourag'd, we have heard of all,
Your Prince, your selves, your City and her fall.
The Sun is neerer neighbour both to Tyre
And Carthage then to leave us in the mire
Of Barbarism: you may safely use
Our ports, and taking time as freely chuse
Your course, or with your Prince, or for your friend;
And what it is you want our stores shall lend.
Or should you rather like this realm of ours,
The City which we build is freely yours.
Break up your fleet, with me the different name
Trojan and Tyrian shall be the same.
And for your Prince we hope he may be well,
But if there be a shore of ours can tell,
You shall be eased of the heavy doubt.
At which she orders horse to be sent out.
Aeneas swell'd with joy that tore his shroud,
Broke from the chamber of the lightning cloud
Into the field, for which his Mothers charms
Had been at work to gird him with her arms;
As when to Ivory, to Parian stone
Art contributes the lustre that's their own.
Interpreted by such a garb and meen,
He comes with this address unto the Queen.
Sacred and only calm I ever knew,
The raging sea, the stormy winds that blew,
The crushing rocks be ever blest, since we
By these are driven under such a Lee.
While rivers with their silver tribute own
The sea, will we the favours you have shown;
Our gratitude from their immenseness shall
Descend, while shadows from the mountains fall.
Your fame shall sound and spread where ere we steer;
While Planets wander in the azure sphear.
This said to Ilioneus, Gyas and
Cloanthus, with the rest he gives his hand.
The presence or the fortunes of the man
Silenc'd the Queen a while, ere she began
Thus to bemoan his state, What cruel hand
Pursues the pious to an unknown land!
You are Aeneas whom the goddess bore,
And Simois swaddled in his flowry shore;
For at the time my father Belus broke
Fat Cyprus unto his victorious yoke,
There came a Greek one Teucer, who was sprung
Of Trojan blood, and did the name no wrong;
He from the very first unto the last
Had seen your wars, and told us all that past:
And in the miseries which you have known
There is so great resemblance of our own,
While either fleet by like adventures tost,
Is met at length upon the self same cost;
That you may trust our learning in the art
Of giving ease to the afflicted heart.
Which said, she brings the Trojan to her court,
And sends a royal present to the port;
An hundred ews and lambs, an hundred sows,
And Bacchus rides upon a drove of cows.
The royal pallace with magnificence
And vari'd scenes of pomp receiv'd the Prince.
The flores were carpets, and the roofs were guilt,
The walls with story silken volumes fill'd.
The board was cover'd with besuiting state,
The cupboards loaden, where the massey plate
Phoenician arms and pedigrees inrol'd
In silver Trophies, and triumphant gold.
Forthwith Aeneas (for the fathers mind
Runs not on things that leave the son behind)
Dispatch'd Achates to the fleet for dear
Ascanius, directed thence to bear
Some ornaments and jewels, which had been
The choice of Helens store, unto the Queen.
But Venus still in doubt what might betide
In Juno's realms, with new adventures pli'd
The destin'd Lady; stole the boy away
With slumber bound him in Idalia
The sluggard lies, imbrac'd by shady bowres,
In fragrant herbage breathing like the flowres;
While Cupid, having laid aside his wings,
Puts on his nephew and the present brings.
The Queen upon a purple couch at board
Was set, and next to her the Trojan Lord;
By him his Captains, for their better cheer
Each entertained by a Tyrian Peer.
First comes the towel and the spouting ewre,
Then yellow Ceres usher'd by the Sewer.
An hundred Pages serve the smoaky plate,
As many on the flouring bottles wait.
To these not dreaming to be so beguil'd
Enters the little God that plays the child;
The Tyrians in the jewels worship Troy,
But Dido ravisht with the lovely boy,
Enthrones the cruel wanton on her knee,
And offers to the unknown Deity
In kisses, while he scratches out Sicheus
And in her marble bosome writes Aeneas.
Now at the second service Bacchus crown'd
With more solemnity began his round:
At freer mirth which former silence brake
The roof, the arches murmuring awake.
Torches in golden sconces keep the field
And night is scatter'd by a flaming shield.
The bowl which Belus us'd, and all from him,
Sparkling with wine and jewels to the brim,
Dido receives, and silence made, O Jove
(Says she) for thee we understand to love
The hospitable, and preside at all
The entertainments truly jovial,
May our posterity observe with joy
This day, the festival of Tyre and Troy:
Propitious Juno be a constant guest,
And Bacchus Prince of gladness crown the feast.
At which she shed the honour of the cup
To consecrate the board, and took a sup;
Then rousing mighty Bitias gave him hold,
Who launch'd his lips, and lav'd the foamy gold.
The health goes round. Iopas with the tresses
What Atlas taught unto the harp expresses;
How man, how beast, how rain and thunder come
By Nature to be formed in her womb,
The travails of the Sun and Moon in airs
Re-eccho to the musick of their sphears:
Trojans and Tyrians at every pause
Become the Chorus with their high applause.
But other draughts, and other charms then these
For ever on unhappy Dido sieze;
Who wastes the night with various discourse,
Enquiring now of arms and then of horse,
Much after Priam, after Hector much;
If Diomed were so, Achilles such:
Nay, but (says she) Aeneas, now oblige
Me to begin, and shew me the whole siege,
VVith all your travels since you there begun,
And here conclude seven courses of the Sun.
VIRGIL'S AENEIS. The second Book.
SIlence and deep attention every man
Had rais'd, when from his haughty couch began
The Prince thus in obedience, to relate
Unto the Tyrian Queen the Trojan fate.
Madam, our pains, since you assign them breath,
Shall live again, though they be worse then death:
For how dire Greece attain'd to overwhelm
Troy's glories, and that miserable realm,
(A desolation which wretched we,
So great a share of it, surviv'd to see)
VVhat Dolop, Myrmidon, or tongue of theirs
That triumph in the fact, could tell for tears!
And now the heavens shake off dissolving night,
And setting stars to injur'd sleep invite;
Yet since by your commands, you should not fear
The groans again of gasping Troy to hear,
Although my soul give back, as shrinking in
At thoughts so horrid, I shall now begin.
The Greeks for many years repuls'd by Fate,
And broken by our sallies, dedicate
A mighty horse (whose arched rib was pine)
To Pallas, framed by her art divine;
An holy bribe as they would have it thought,
By which their licence to retreat was bought.
For so 'twas given out, while they indeed
Had lodg'd an ambush in the hollow steed.
This spacious womb of death impregnated
Thus with the choicest men that nation bred,
For Tenedos (an Island in the ken
Of Troy, rich, while she stood, but now a fen
And unsecure) their sculking Navy bore,
And lurk'd upon the solitary shore.
The wind was good, and we suppos'd 'em gone,
VVhen Troy her tarnish'd jollity put on,
Open'd her gates, now every one must see
The trenches of the flying enemy;
Here lodg'd Achilles, there his Dolops laid,
Here joyn'd the battel, there was the Parade.
But that of all which had ingros'd discourse
And wonder, was the fabrick of the horse:
VVhich first Thymetes (whether so to be
Troy's Fate would have it or his treachery)
Commands into the City to be brought.
Capys and others not so rash (who thought
The Grecian bounty fitter to be thrown
Into the sea then for the wise to own)
To launch the swelling oak, and search the dire
Impostume, call for axes or for fire.
Th' incertain people now to this inclin'd,
[...] now to that, are never of a mind.
[...]oon, in speed and very lowd,
Comes from the castle, at his heels a crowd,
And all the way he runs, he shreeks and crys,
Ah wretches, what is it hath seild your eyes?
Is't possible you think the Grecians fled!
Are you no better in Ʋlysses read,
Then to imagine him a friend that woo'd
Be at such cost with you, and for your good!
The foe is spying from that lofty crest,
The City to be trampled by this beast:
Or be what will the drift of this device,
A Greek and bountiful forewarns me twice.
At which he rally'd all his scatter'd force,
And threw his massey javelin at the horse:
It stuck and trembled in the dry-lip'd wound,
The caves resounded and the caverns groan'd.
O heavens! O destinies! you have design'd
VVhom you intend for ruine to be blind,
Or death had thus been stifled in the womb,
And Troy had stood upon a Grecian tomb.
As this was doing, lo unto the King
A captive youth in bonds the shepherds bring:
A rable gathers to him, some with spite
Are mov'd, and some with pity at the sight.
The youth among the Trojan bands amaz'd,
Thus vents his grief as on their strength he gaz'd;
VVretch that I am, what land, what sea can be
My refuge, in whose double destiny
Both Greece and troy pursue each others ends,
My equal foes whose fortune makes them friends!
His words, his sighs, his tears have turn'd the tide,
The Trojans pity whom they did deride,
Enquire his story, him to truth advise,
As that wherein the Captives safety lies.
VVhence he assur'd, assures the King of truth,
I am (says he) indeed a Grecian youth.
(For wicked fortune never shall be able
To render Sinon false though miserable)
If you have heard of Palamed (deriv'd
From Belus) who in fame shall be long liv'd,
Spite of that treachery which cut him short,
For shocking with the rashness of the Court
By counsel, which against this war he gave,
He dy'd by them that weep upon his grave.
I was his kinsman, and with him I came,
Driv'n by my wants to venture at this game,
The sword, which by his conduct thriv, while he
VVas in such honour, as had some for me.
But since that sugard poyson of the tongue
Envious Ʋlysses (what I say is sung)
Gave him his bane; I have bemoan'd my friend
In solitude, resolv'd if fate should send
Me ever home, I never would forget
His ghost, the traytor, or the bloody debt.
But fool, I could not hide this noble sense,
And all my miseries derive from thence.
Ʋlysses having found me, from that time
Hath still upon his forge had some new crime
Against me, so to make the vulgar prate,
And with their forked tongues to arm his hate.
Nor could a peace or truce be ever made,
Till he had won our Prophet to his aid—
But I anatomize a Greek to men
That think them all (perhaps) alike, and then
My cause, no doubt, is pleaded very well
To loose this head of mine, which you may sell,
Since Agamemnon or Ʋlysses would,
For such a purchase give the weight in gold.
VVe are on thorns to hear his story out,
Intreating him to lay aside his doubt.
And on he goes. Full oft the stormy skies
Have counsel'd us (O had we been so wise!)
To raise our siege, but never in that style,
As when we were about to build this pile.
Yet so did they inrage the sea, that still
They took away the power to give the will.
In this suspense Eurypylus is sent
T' inquire at Delphos what was the portent.
Dire Oracles incens'd Apollo sings,
VVhich from the holy threshold thus he brings.
O Greeks, when to the siege of Troy you came,
You offerd up a Virgin soul in flame;
In flame agen, when ere you would return,
A Grecian soul unto the winds must burn.
The people stupid when they hear this news,
Expect with horror whom the god will chuse.
The Priest comes forth, is urged by my foe
To name his man (men saw how this would go)
Yet tender Calchas, to conceal from whence
He had his Oracle, is in suspense;
Ten days he takes, in which to seek and know
Of heaven, what was resolv'd so long ago,
And end his piety where it began,
VVhile I at length am pointed out the man;
And every one, transported thus to be
Deliver'd of his own, lays load on me.
VVhat remedy? the day is come, the corn
And salt prepar'd, the filet to be worn.
I must confess, not yet prepar'd to die,
I brake my bonds, and made a shift to flie
Into the sedges of a lake, there lay
Perdu, till they had weigh'd, if they would weigh.
And thus have I escap'd the sacrifice,
For which perhaps my dearest friend now dies;
My father or my son, whom I, nor thee
My native Countrey, ever hope to see.
If truth have any Patron (mighty Sir)
In heaven or earth, by him I do conjure,
Ponder the weight of my calamity,
The greatest that of guilt was ever free.
The captive hath his pardon as his due,
And pity of free gift, they brake and threw
Away his bonds, while Priamus (good King)
Thus thaw'd his sadness like the cheerful spring.
Stranger from hence forgetting Greece well lost,
Esteem thy self a native of this coast;
No more of that, we call thee ours. But say,
(This monstrous horse confounds me every way)
VVhat is portended by the mighty beam?
Is it religion or stratagem?
Sinon, with raised hands at liberty,
Exclaims, Eternal spangles of the sky,
Inviolable powers, polluted swords,
Ye altars I have scap'd, ye fillets, cords,
VVhat Greece can have, to you I now appeal
So sacred, as I ought not to reveal.
If she her love, her nature can revoke,
I am absolved from the law she broke.
But Troy, if faithful to the hope she gives
Shall nere repent it, that her Sinon lives.
VVhile Pallas rul'd the Grecian arms, 'twas so
That what design so ere they drave would go:
But from the time that forge of wickedness,
Ʋlysses got with Diomede access
Unto her shrine, by killing of her guard,
And there with bloud-imbrued clutches dar'd
To touch the goddess and her fillet tear,
To drag her a statue by the virgin hair, a the Paladium.
Their fortune like a mighty tide gave back,
The strength, the nerve of their design grew slack.
Nor had the goddess her estranged brest
By undiscerned prodigies express'd:
For when her image came into the camp,
The marble swet, the eye was like a lamp,
And thrice she brandish'd in the open field
Her threatning sword, and raised up her shield.
Calchas denounces that they must depart,
Troy cannot suffer by a Grecian dart
Till all renew'd at Argos, they resign
The stoln Palladium to the proper shrine.
Nor are they now at home for other ends
Then to recruite, and make the gods their friends,
That when you least expect they may invade
You fresh, for so it is by Calchas laid.
And for the horse, which warned of their guilt,
In lieu of the Paladium they built,
Calchas ordain'd it of the height you see
To bar your gates against the deity.
For thus he prophesies, destruction shall
The Trojan name and Priam's throne befal
(VVhich righteous heaven fulfil in him and his)
If you shall violate this edifice;
But, if intire her saving gift ascend
Your City, Pallas shall be Asia's friend,
VVhose armies through the heart of Greece shall run,
The fathers due repaying to the son.
VVe give him credit, and his tears succeed,
The fraud and perjuries of Sinon speed
Where Diomedes and Achilles fail
In ten years war, and with a thousand sail.
Yet 'twas an higher hand, while this was hot
That striking forged up the iron plot.
Laocoon, Priest of Neptune, deals his blows,
A mighty bull before the altar bows,
When lo, from Tenedos two serpents creep,
Whose circling backs ingulph the calmy deep,
Their bloody mains above the wave they hold,
And in their winding tales large seas infold;
The poyson'd billows cast them on the shore,
Licking their jaws that hiss with flame and gore.
Pale and dispers'd we flie, they spring upon
Two of the children of Laocoon,
Soft limbs in venomous embraces wrap,
And open purple fountains where they lap.
The father with the threatning dart he brought
To help, into the running noose is caught,
And twice about his neck and waste they got,
Raising their heads above the scaly knot,
Which he endeavours to unty in vain,
His holy fillet blood and rancor stain;
At which he bellows like a bull that shakes
Out of his wounded neck the failing ax:
The spiny dragons in swift mazes flie
To fierce Minerva's cittadel, there lie
Low at the virgins foot, and hurkle in
Protected by her golden shield and shrine.
New terror creeps into each brest, they own
The vengeance just that siez'd Laocoon,
Whose sacrilegious javelin dar'd to maim
The beauty of the consecrated frame;
And cry to have it instantly brought in,
If so they may the angry Goddess win.
We lay the City open, break the wall,
Some fasten wheels unto the pedestal,
Harness the horse, and draw him by his trace;
Men are his team, he mounts the breach a pace:
Soft virgins flock, and proud to touch the string,
Like swans at Cytherea's chariot sing,
Till from the ruine of the wall they launch
Into the threatned street the sounding Paunch.
Ah, Mother Troy, ah walls with trophies hung,
Ah temple where the gods had dwelt so long!
Thrice in his journey was the beast discern'd
To stop, and thrice his iron bowels yern'd,
While we more beasts were haling, till at length
Plac'd in the tower we gave the foe our strength.
Here all was said, but 'twas Cassandra said it,
Who was indu'd with truth, but not with credit.
Poor souls, the day to be our last, we drest
With boughs, and celebrated as a feast,
When fell the Sun, as if the orbe of light
Had burst, and scatter'd with his cinders night;
That night which spread her sable wing abroad
Ore heaven, ore earth, and ore the Grecian fraud.
The Trojans silent as the walls they keep
Bedew their stiffned limbs which supple sleep,
While with the moon to friend, the Grecians cross
Unto the well known shore from Tenedos;
Their order'd decks no sooner were advanc'd,
Then flame out of the Admiral gally glanc'd,
Which was the sign appointed to be given;
Sinon at this (that curse of partial heaven)
Broaches the horse, which by a rope to run
Begins, as when you pierce a poysond tun.
Ʋlysses, Sthenelus, Tisandrus, Thaos,
The Architect Epeus, Menelaus,
Machaon, Pyrrhus, on the dead now fall,
For wine and sleep by this had bury'd all.
Our guards cut off, their companies that wait
Are both received and receive the gate.
About the hour heavens bounty sleep renews,
The strength of mortals and their care subdues,
The ghost of Hector smear'd with dust and blood
Approach'd my bed, and staring on me stood,
His cheeks were sallow, and his eyes were dim,
As when the chariot drag'd him by a limb.
O heavens the spectacle! ah how he was
Transformed from that Hector who gave chace
To proud Achilles, and from thence return'd
In Laurel, and his brighter spoils adorn'd!
Who split the Grecians while the Trojan brand
Fell on their navies from his lightning hand!
His beard was stiff, each wound a running sore,
His lovely locks were clotted with his gore.
Mine eyes gush'd forth, ah Hector, ah the joy,
The strength, the glory, the support of Troy,
Where hast thou been, whence doest thou come, how art
Thou furrow'd with those wounds that wound my heart?
Why after such effusion in this place
Of Dardan blood see we so late thy face?
He answers not, but with a dreadful cry
Exclaims, son of the goddess fly, O fly.
Our gates are siezed by th' insulting foe,
Great Troy, to which nor you nor I do owe
Is fallen, fallen from her envy'd height,
Acknowledging we both have done her right.
The rest is vain, if she had been to stand
That had been granted unto this right hand.
Her holy reliques, to thy piety
Bequeathed by her self, bear thou with thee,
Whose wandring fate by these conducted, shall
In forraign parts set up the Trojan wall.
This said, from Vesta's cooling hearth he tears
Th' immortal flame, and forthwith disappears.
Our house inviron'd by a silent wood
Retir'd some distance from the City stood.
Confused noises rise in shreeks and fire,
The light grows greater, and the clamour higher.
As when a tempest fans with her hoarse wings
A spark, which into standing corn she brings;
Or when a torrent at his forrage mocks
The labour of the plough-man and his ox,
Astonish'd shepherds waking at the sound
Climb some high clift, and view the wasted ground:
Rous'd from my bed upon a tower I hover,
The Grecian fraud and fury thence discover.
Deiphobuses house fierce Vulcan razes,
And now Ʋcalegon our neighbour blazes,
The Seas themselves are set on many fires
By the reflection of flaming spires.
Trumpets with shouts, and shreeks with trumpets vy,
To arms, to arms, give me my arms, I cry:
But to what end, I am as much to seek,
Except the castle held, and through the Greek
We were enow to make our way. Despair
Provides companions that nothing fear.
Panthus Otriades, Apollo's Priest,
Haling his little Nephew by the wrist,
And loaden with his reliques, first we met.
Panthus, what chear, the castle holds it yet?
W' are gone, w' are lost, he cries, the hour is come,
We have been Trojans, this was Ilium,
The mighty glory of our ancesters,
Now all to Argos wrathful heaven transfers:
The burning City's master'd by the Greeks,
The teeming horse has open'd all his decks.
Insulting Sinon lays about in flame,
Thousands that are not of the Grecian name
Possess the gates, upon the breaches stand,
The reeking sword is in a bloody hand;
Some of our guards a noble heat express,
But few, and they expos'd to great distress.
At this as clamor and the furies guide,
We follow, Ripheus marching by my side,
With gallant Iphitus, then by the moon
Dymas and Hypanis fall in, and soon
(Unto adventures equal with his stake)
Comes young Coraebus for Cassandra's sake:
Unhappy youth, who yet had breath'd this air
Had he believ'd her true as he did fair.
To these, great souls resolv'd to charge, said I
Although our gods retreat, our fortune fly,
Since all extreams meet in the point they shun,
This is our safety that we look for none.
Which said, as wolves, whose cubs are dry-lip'd, prey,
Through night, through darts, through death we make our way.
That hollow herse of darkness never shall
Find tears proportion'd to her funeral:
The growth of ages, from her envi'd height,
The antient City tumbles in a night,
The mangled spoils of souls in sad exile,
Her houses, streets, her holy fanes defile.
Nor falls the Trojan only, or in vain;
Courage in frozen bosomes gives again;
The victor takes his turn, and has his hap,
While death is revelling in every shape.
First of the Greeks Androgeo, by mistake,
Accost's us thus. So camerades, you make
Good haste it seems, while Troy is bound for Greece,
Others returning stow her golden fleece
On sinking keels, you but disbarque: what ails
You creep out of your wooden shells like snails!
But as a man that treads upon a snake
Too late perceives his error and gives back,
We charge him through and through, while he retires,
And cut him off engag'd among the briars.
At this success Coraebus well advises,
We thus have gotten arms with fit disguises,
Pursue we fortune in her chosen ways;
Courage and stratagem are equal praise:
And so puts on Androgeo's plumed crest,
Commending his example to the rest.
Thus with the Trojan sword and Grecian shield
Thousands of foes we leave for ever seild;
Some sneak abord, some to the lower shade,
And others reascend their wooden jade.
But who can strive with heaven! we meet divine
Cassandra drag'd from her Minerva's shrine,
With flowing hair, and raised eyes in vain.
At which, into the midst of the prophane,
Coraebus charg'd. We second him, thus known
Unto their men and not unto our own,
Our friends, deceived by our bucklers, poure
Their fury on us from the temple tower.
To this both Ajax and the furious
b Menelaus, & Agamennon.
sonsOf Atreus bring up their Myrmidons.
We joyn like blasts from distant quarters met,
And whirle-winds in the rough embrace beget.
Numbers oppress us, they, whom partial night
Had rescu'd once, return unto the fight.
Coraebus on Minerva's altar dies,
Cassandra's most unwelcome sacrifice.
Ripheus true Trojan, with his Dymas by
Mistaking friends, are kill'd in curtesy.
Nor would thy Mitre Panthus serve thy turn.
To Troy's cold ashes and your common urne,
If any danger could divert the zeal
I shew'd your lives to rescue, I appeal.
Peleas and Iphytus with me are born,
By clamour forward (Iphytus was worn
With age, and Pelias feeble with a wound
Ʋlysses gave) w'are hurri'd till we found
The Court engaged in a fight so sore
As if there had been nothing done before.
The Greeks close rank'd their heads with targets slate,
Apply the tortoys unto every gate,
Others their lathers set unto the walls,
The left defends the head, the right hand scales;
While from the roof the Trojans roll the spires
And battlements, the pomp of their old fiers,
The waken'd rafters with their guilded beams,
Are amunition in these sad extreams.
Others with rough provision below
Attend ith' entreys to sustain the foe.
Priam's distress our loyal blood inflames;
There was a secret passage for the dames
Of Hector's house unto the Court, which way
His children were accustom'd to go play
(Troy then was happy) with their gransire King;
By this recruites unto the Court we bring,
There climb the roof from whence with small effect
The Trojans their derided shot direct.
Here yet remain'd a turret Priam's spy,
Whence he was wont to view the enemy,
We hew her from her lofty seat, disclose
Her joynts, and pour the ruine on our foes;
Thousands are bury'd, but, do what we can,
On their neglected graves as many stand.
Automedon brings up the Scyrian bands
With Periphas, and storms the roof with brands.
Pyrrhus, in armour like the burnish'd skins
Of vipers basking in the Sun, begins
To force the pallace gate: at every stroak
His iron javelin feeds upon the oak,
Till eaten through the heart, it now disclose
The entrails sacred to our Kings repose;
The guards with which the yielding door is lin'd,
Are first in view with spacious Courts behind.
Out of the inner parts confused cries,
Piercing the walls ascend unto the skies,
Virgins in horror of their ruthless dooms
Wander the vast and solitary rooms,
Embrace the pillars, clip and kiss the stone,
The marble thaws, the hollow arches groan.
Pyrrhus insists with native fury born,
The doors are from their brazen hinges torn,
The guards cut off Streams, that have burst their dams,
Swept herds of bulls away with flocks of lambs,
Into the eddys of some valley come,
As now the Greek flows into every room.
Proud columns hatch'd with gold, with trophies hung,
Are taught humility and laid along.
Where fire goes out, the fiercer Grecians hold.
His Troy on flame, his pallace forc'd, the old
King, feeble, and decrepid with his years,
Yet full of courage and resolv'd appears
In unaccustom'd arms to welcome death.
There was an inner Court, in this beneath
The green pavilion of a Laurel stood
The houshold gods, their table and their food,
An altar that was dayly smoaking. Hither,
Like flocks of Doves pursu'd by stormy weather,
The Trojan dames with Hecuba were fled,
And hung upon the Altars horned head.
But when the Queen perceiv'd her Priamus
In youthful arms, she let the Altar loose
And hung about his neck, my aged Lord,
Alas, (says she) were this my Hector's sword
It were too late, our exigences call
For other aids then these, or none at all;
This Altar shall defend us both, or neither,
As we have liv'd so let us die together.
Which said, she set him on the sacred stone.
When lo, Polites, Priam's younger son,
By Pyrrhus wounded, and pursued flies
Through privy passages and galleries,
Till reach'd, he spill upon the holy place
His purple soul before his fathers face.
The King above the danger, at the dire
Affront expresses this beseeming ire.
The gods reward thee (if in heaven there be
Such care) for that which thou hast made me see;
The like Achilles never would have done,
Thou dost but fain thy self to be his son.
At which with all his strength he dealt a stroke,
That Pyrrhus with his brazen target broke,
And took him sliding in the blood yet warm
Of his cold son, then wound about his arm
The snowy tresses of the feeble sire,
And drag'd him to the Altar. Go, enquire
Among the shades (says he) whose son I am,
Or tell my father how I Soil his name.
Which words by unrelenting Pyrrhus said,
The other hand strikes off old Priam's head.
The sons of Atreus with equal rage
Succeeding Pyrrhus spare nor sex, nor age,
Till in their blood upon the altar lay
By thoughtless Priam willing Hecuba,
Extinguishing the flames they us'd to feed,
By these an hundred of their off-spring bleed.
Such was the end of Priamus, when he
The ruine of his realm had liv'd to see;
The potent Prince to whom all Asia gave
Obedience is not allow'd a grave;
His mighty trunk upon the shore is thrown
A common carkass, and a corse unknown.
This spectacle my soul, till now of proof,
Had wholly stupifi'd, while on the roof
I stood deserted to a man by all:
And dire remembrancers, what might befal
My family, deprived of my aid,
With horrour to my guilty conscience laid.
My father in the King, in Hecuba
My undefended wife Creüsa lay,
And of the children that I look'd upon
Me thought Ascanius must needs be one.
Too late, while every pass is block'd with fire,
I cast about enraged to retire,
When lo, in flame that quenches flame and me,
From heav'n descends my Mother-Deity.
Son, says the Goddess, thanks to me are due,
That all is well at home, and not to you.
And for your Countrey, lay the cruel storm,
This blood was not from Helen's envy'd form,
Paris was not the maker of this fire.
Though dim mortality go seldom higher,
Men are but instruments of heav'ns decree,
And this such Hero's as thy self should see.
Render thine arms, obey in suddain flight,
Behold, they are the gods themselves that fight.
Which said, a ray she drops into mine eyes
That fills them with celestial light, and flyes.
Now Neptune, where the dust and smoak arose,
Beheld I with his Trident dealing blows,
The spreading walls which he had [...]oyst before
He furles, and makes their lofty turrets lore.
Waving a sword unto her Grecians sat
Remorsless Juno on the Scaean gate:
Upon the castle with her Gorgon stood
Bellona, brewing in a cloud of blood:
Nay, Jove himself so us'd to carry even
In Grecian arms array'd the hoast of heaven.
Troy, like a pine, that was the mountain's pride,
By husbandmen beset on every side,
Whose axes lay their sighing blows upon
Her stable root, now trembles, and anon
Slowly begins to bow, then with a groan
Astonishing the sounding woods comes down.
The gods must be obey'd, farewell my Joy,
Eternally farewel Neptunian Troy.
Now swerves the Palace, our supporters bend,
The roof that follows lands me; I descend
In ruine that before my flying feet
Chases the conqueror, and clears the street.
Unto the place once call'd our home, I steer,
Resolv'd my father thence with speed to bear.
But good old man, he utterly denies
To lay his bones but where his Ilium lies.
You that have blood to fill and warm your veins,
Have means to flie, and somewhat for your pains,
(Says he) but I should find some other way,
Heav'n in these ruines laughs at my delay.
Alas, what should he fly that seeks his end?
Help is at hand, a foe will be a friend.
All that of this cold earth can live is you,
My dear resources leave a corse, adieu.
My wife Creus', Ascanius, and I
Bathing with tears his feet, at which we lie,
Beseech him as he wishes such resource
Not to obstruct it in the proper course,
Nor think the loss already had so small
As thus to argue till he lose us all.
Still he persists. Why then our flight, her sears
Hath mew'd, for farewel hopes and farewel fears:
And should a father think while he hath none
There can remain an hope unto his son!
My arms, my arms, the life I purchas'd at
Some price, let me go sell at any rate;
Or Pyrrhus call to murder with a grace
Another son before his fathers face.
Ah mother Venus, thou hast stood indeed
My friend, but has it been a friend at need,
If I be but preserv'd to see my father,
Creus', Ascanius, mix life blood together?
My arms, my arms, it is the last day calls
The Victor to the Captives funerals,
Who shall be entertain'd.— As with such words
I flung away, Creusa's arms were cords,
Who on her knees imbrac'd my feet, and spread
Ascanius in the step I was to tread.
If death, says she, be good, and of despair
You seek that cure, refuse us not our share,
If ill forsake us not at such a need,
Since he that flies to arms hath hope to speed.
As thus she argues with a tide of tears,
Behold a suddain prodigy appears,
Ascaniuses curles have caught a fire
That on his tufted crown erects a spire,
Kisses his temples where it feeding shines,
And softly with his unsing'd tresses twines.
Creus' and I implore the liquid aid
Of springs, and with their gift the flame invade.
But old Anchises, with his hands to heaven,
Exalted at the sign the gods have given,
Invokes the confirmation of their love
With zealous prayers addrest to father Jove.
It thunder'd, and a falling star that drew
A silver streak out of her rav'led clew,
To tack her thread upon the house begun,
And thence unto the woods of Ida spun.
Anchises is convinc'd, now no delay
Since his adored goddess chalks the way.
My honour'd father, come, you are no weight,
(Who bears his health is lighten'd by his freight)
Sit on my neck, thy hand Ascanius,
And dear Creus' be sure you follow close;
For you the servants, at the Cypress tree;
Upon the solitude of Ceres, be
The rendevouz. Our gods my father bears,
I him, thus fraught with all my hopes and fears
I go; Ascanius grasps my hand, and traces
His fathers steps, though with unequal paces,
Creusa follows. Was I us'd to start!
Now not a leaf that stirs but chils my heart!
The horror of the night, the vast and wild
Fields which we pass affright me like a child.
When well advanc'd upon our way, we meet
A suddain clash of fire, and sound of feet.
At this Anchises cry'd, Aeneas, fly,
And so I did as fast as I could hy.
Thus chas'd, I know not by what envious power,
Dearest Creus' I saw not from that hour.
Nor did I know or think how poor a man
I was, till we arriv'd at Ceres fane:
Where all are safe, but when we find the cost,
(While she alone is wanting) all are lost.
Whether she staid or fainted by the way,
Or frighted by the spirits went astray,
Ye heav'ns it was a great severity!
The sack of Troy was not so much to me!
Unto a trusty covert I commend
My treasure in my young and ancient friend,
With such as met us at the Cypress tree:
Resolv'd the sable field again to see,
And try if I have courage now to greet
The powers with lightning eyes and thundring feet.
The darkness seem'd a vault, the night a tomb,
I call'd, Creusa, O Creusa come.
Horror condenses, and in tears distils,
The eccho's shreek upon the waking hills.
Creusa, O Creusa, hear, O hear,
Thou knowest my woes, and if thy soul yet wear
The tenderness of humane flesh, shouldst aid:
Or, ah Creusa, if thou beest a shade,
Can blessed spirits wound as thou hast done,
And are they void of all compassion!
At such complaints, to my affrighted eyes,
Her taller ghost appears, and thus replies.
My Lord, asswage the passion that trains
This fond indulgence unto fruitless pains:
Thus heav'n will have it: unpropitious Jove
Forbids Creusa to enjoy her love.
Where Lydian Tyber flows, the gods prepare
Him fortunes, better then admit her share;
A scepter and a crowned bride. My dear,
Love my Ascanius, and spare that tear.
I do not in low servitude disgrace
The son of Venus, nor the Dardan race.
Nor Myrmidon, nor Dolop me constrains
To wait upon his wife, or wear his chains,
Who, by the Corybants presented, dwell
With great Cybele. Dearest Lord, farewel.
I call'd, I cry'd, endeavour'd to have staid
With my deluded arms the flitting shade,
That cruelly regardless of my moans
Leaves me embracing air and thawing stones.
The night was wasted. I return and find
Our company increas'd in every kind:
A miserable multitude implore
Me but to set 'em upon any shore.
The morning from mount Ida blusht to show
Our gates, not to be rescu'd from the foe;
When with my father and my helpless flocks
I fled unto the refuge of the rocks.
FINIS.
Inconstancy.
HE who at first a womans mind
Compar'd to the inconstant wind,
Did it in gratitude, not spleen,
For, had this ever constant been,
We that in wealth to pomp abound
Had scarce for needful uses found.
It is his vary'd dance that leads
Us to the eastern spicy meads,
And back again our course declines
To dig in the rich western mines,
Where should it stand still to one coast
The trafick of the world were lost.
On Florella's coming to be a maid of honour.
WHen in Florella first I view'd
The charms which more then I have ru'd,
She past here time in speckled bowers
And dwelt among the Countrey flowers.
My wonder lending fame a wing
This beauty to the Court to bring,
The virgin streight began to wear
An heart as hard as she was fair.
So Divers from the deep invite
The hidden coral to the light,
When at the touch of air alone
The tender plant turns precious stone.
FINIS.