Sidor som bilder
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Or, in itself a god, what great desire? My labouring soul, with anxious thought oppress'd,

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Abhors this station of inglorious rest; The love of fame with this can ill accord, Be 't mine to seek for glory with my sword. Seest thou yon camp, with torches twinkling dim, Where drunken slumbers wrap each lazy limb ? Where confidence and ease the watch disdain,

And drowsy Silence holds her sable reign? Then hear my thought: - In deep and sullen grief

Our troops and leaders mourn their absent chief:

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Now could the gifts and promised prize be thine

(The deed, the danger, and the fame be mine),

Were this decreed, beneath yon rising mound, Methinks, an easy path perchance were found;

Which past, I speed my way to Pallas' walls,

And lead Æneas from Evander's halls.'

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Where Pallas' walls at distance meet the
sight,

Saved from Arisba's stately domes o'er-
thrown;

Seen o'er the glade, when not obscured by My sire secured them on that fatal day,
night.
Nor left such bowls an Argive robber's
prey.

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Then shall Æneas in his pride return,
While hostile matrons raise their offspring's

Two massy tripods, also, shall be thine;
Two talents polish'd from the glittering
mine;

urn;

And Latian spoils and purpled heaps of dead

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An ancient cup, which Tyrian Dido gave,
While yet our vessels press'd the Punic

wave.

But when the hostile chiefs at length bow
down,
When great Eneas wears Hesperia's crown,
The casque, the buckler, and the fiery steed
Which Turnus guides with more than mor-
tal speed,

Are thine; no envious lot shall then be cast,
I pledge my word, irrevocably past:
Nay more, twelve slaves, and twice six cap-
tive dames

To soothe thy softer hours with amorous
flames,

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And all the realms which now the Latins
sway,

The labours of to-night shall well repay.
But thou, my generous youth, whose tender
years

Are near my own, whose worth my heart

reveres,

Henceforth affection, sweetly thus begun,
Shall join our bosoms and our souls in one.
Without thy aid no glory shall be mine;
Without thy dear advice, no great design;
Alike through life esteem'd, thou godlike

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boy,
In war my bulwark, and in peace my joy.'

To him Euryalus: - No day shall shame
The rising glories which from this I claim.
Fortune may favour, or the skies may
frown,

But valour, spite of fate, obtains renown.
Yet, ere from hence our eager steps depart,
One boon I beg, the nearest to my heart:
My mother, sprung from Priam's royal line,
Like thine ennobled, hardly less divine,
Nor Troy nor king Acestes' realms restrain
Her feeble age from dangers of the main;
Alone she came, all selfish fears above, 181
A bright example of maternal love.
Unknown the secret enterprise I brave,
Lest grief should bend my parent to the
grave,

From this alone no fond adieus I seek,

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