But neither gods nor parent didst thou bear;
(Smooth stories all, to please a woman's ear ;)
False was the tale of thy romantic life;
Nor yet am I thy first deluded wife.
Left to pursuing foes Creusa stay'd,
By thee, base man, forsaken and betray'd.
This, when thou told'st me, struck my tender heart,
That such requital follow'd such desert.
Nor doubt I but the gods, for crimes like these,
Seven winters kept thee wand'ring on the seas.
Thy starved companions, cast ashore, I fed,
Thyself admitted to my crown and bed.
To harbour strangers, succour the distress'd,
Was kind enough; but oh too kind the rest!
Oh chastity and violated fame,
Exact your dues to my dead husband's name!
By death redeem my reputation lost;
And to his arms restore my guilty ghost.
Close by my palace, in a gloomy grove,
Is raised a chapel to my murder'd love;
There, wreath'd with boughs and wool, his statue
stands,
The pious monument of artful hands:
Last night, methought he call'd me from the dome, And thrice, with hollow voice, cried, "Dido, come." She comes; thy wife thy lawful summons hear; 105 But comes more slowly, clogg'd with conscious fear. Forgive the wrong I offer'd to thy bed,
Strong were his charms, who my weak faith misled.
His goddess mother, and his aged sire,
Borne on his back, did to my fall conspire.
Oh such he was, and is, that were he true,
Without a blush I might his love pursue.
But cruel stars my birthday did attend:
And as my fortune open'd it must end.
My plighted lord was at the altar slain,
Whose wealth was made my bloody brother's gain:
Friendless, and follow'd by the murd'rer's hate,
To foreign countries I removed my fate;
And here, a suppliant, from the natives' hands,
I bought the ground on which my city stands; 120
With all the coast that stretches to the sea;
Ev'n to the friendly port that shelter'd thee:
Then raised these walls, which mount into the air, At once my neighbours' wonder, and their fear.
For now they arm; and round me leagues are made,
My scarce establish'd empire to invade.
To man my new-built walls I must prepare,
A helpless woman, and unskill'd in war.
Yet thousand rivals to my love pretend,
And for my person would my crown defend:
Whose jarring votes in one complaint agree,
That each unjustly is disdain'd for thee.
To proud Hiarbas give me up a prey-
(For that must follow, if thou goest away :)
Or to my husband's murderer leave my life;
That to the husband he may add the wife.
Go then; since no complaints can move thy mind:
Go, perjured man, but leave thy gods behind.
Touch not those gods by whom thou art forsworn;
Who will in impious hands no more be borne : 140
Thy sacrilegious worship they disdain,
And rather would the Grecian fires sustain.
Some god, thou say'st, thy voyage does command; !
Would the same god had barr'd thee from my land!
The same, I doubt not, thy departure steers, 145
Who kept thee out at sea so many years;
Where thy long labours were a price so great,
As thou to purchase Troy wouldst not repeat.
But Tiber now thou seek'st, to be, at best,
When there arrived, a poor precarious guest.
Yet it deludes thy search: perhaps it will
To thy old age lie undiscover'd still.
A ready crown and wealth in dower I bring,
And without conquering, here thou art a king.
Here thou to Carthage mayst transfer thy Troy;
Here young Ascanius may his arms employ;
OVID.-II.-Z
And, while we live secure in soft repose,
Bring many laurels home from conquer'd foes.
By Cupid's arrows, I adjure thee stay;
By all the gods, companions of thy way.
So may thy Trojans, who are yet alive,
Live still, and with no future fortune strive :
So may thy youthful son old age attain,
And thy dead father's bones in peace remain;
As thou hast pity on unhappy me,
Who know no crime, but too much love of thee.
I am not born from fierce Achilles' line,
Nor did my parents against Troy combine:
To be thy wife, if I unworthy prove,
By some inferior name admit my love,
To be secured of still possessing thee,
What would I do, and what would I not be!
Our Libyan coasts their certain seasons know,
When free from tempests passengers may go.
But now with northern blasts the billows roar, 175
And drive the floating seaweed to the shore.
Leave to my care the time to sail away;
When safe, I will not suffer thee to stay.
Their sails are tatter'd, and their masts are spent.
Thy weary men would be with ease content;
If by no merit I thy mind can move,
What thou deniest my merit, give my love.
Stay, till I learn my loss to undergo;
And give me time to struggle with my wo.
If not know this, I will not suffer long,
My life's too loathsome, and my love too strong.
Death holds my pen, and dictates what I say,
While cross my lap the Trojan sword I lay.
My tears flow down; the sharp edge cuts their flood, And drinks my sorrows, that must drink my blood. How well thy gift does with my fate agree!
My funeral pomp is cheaply made by thee.
To no new wounds my bosom I display:
The sword but enters where love made the way.
But thou, dear sister, and yet dearer friend,
Shalt my cold ashes to their urn attend.
Sichæus' wife, let not the marble boast,
I lost that title when my fame I lost.
This short inscription only let it bear:
"Unhappy Dido lies in quiet here.
The cause of death, and sword by which she died Eneas gave; the rest her arm supplied."
IN the war of Troy, Achilles having taken and sacked Chrynesium, a town in the Lyrnesian territory, among other booty becomes the master of two fair captives, Chryseis and Briseis-Chryseis he presents to King Agamemnon, and Briseis he reserves for himself-Agamemnon, after some time, is forced by the oracle to restore Chryseis to her father, one of the priests of Apollo: whereon the king by violence takes away Briseis from Achilles; at which the hero incensed leaves the camp of the Grecians, and prepares to sail home; in whose absence the Trojans prevailing, Agamemnon is compelled to send Ulysses and others to offer him rich presents, together with Briseis: but Achilles with disdain rejects them all-This letter therefore is written by Briseis to induce him to receive her, and return to the Grecian camp.
CAPTIVE Briseis in a foreign tongue More by her blots, than words, sets forth her wrong: And yet these blots, which by my tears are made, Above all words, or writing, should persuade. Subjects, I know, must not their lords accuse; Yet prayers and tears we lawfully may use. When ravish'd from your arms, I was the prey Of Agamemnon's arbitrary sway; I grant you must at last have left the field, But for a lover you too soon did yield: A warrior's glory it must needs disgrace, At the first summons to yield up the place. The enemies themselves, no less than I, Stood wondering at their easy victory:
I saw their lips in whispers softly move,
"Is this the man so famed for arms, and love ?” Alas! Achilles, 'tis not so we part
From what we love, and what is near our heart.
No healing kisses to my grief you gave;
You turn'd me off, an unregarded slave.
Was it your rage that did your love suppress ?
Ah! love Briseis more, and hate Atrides less.
He is not born of a true hero's race
Who lets his fury of his love take place.
Tigers and wolves can fight, love is the test,
Distinguishing the hero from the beast.
Alas! when I was from your bosom forced,
I felt my body from my soul divorced;
A deadly paleness overspread my face;
Sleep left my eyes, and to my tears gave place: 30
I tore my hair, and did my death decree;
Ah! learn to part with what you love, from me.
A bold escape I often did essay,
But Greeks, and Trojans too, block'd up the way;
Yet though a tender maid could not break through,
Methinks Achilles should not be so slow:
Achilles, once the thunderbolt of war,
The hope of conquering Greece, and Troy's despair,
Me in his rival's arms can he behold?
And is his courage with his love grown cold?
But I confess, that my neglected charms
Did not deserve the conquest of your arms;
Therefore the gods did, by an easier way,
Our wrongs atone, and damages repay:
Ajax with Phoenix and Ulysses bring
Humble submission from their haughty kings:
The royal penitent rich presents sends,
The strongest cement to piece-broken friends.
When prayers well seconded with gifts are sent,
Both mortal and immortal powers relent.
Twenty bright vessels of Corinthian brass,
Their sculpture did the costly mine surpass:
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