Sidor som bilder

Know'st thou not yet what dangers ships sustain ? So often wreck’d, how dar'st thou tempt the main? Which were it smooth, were ev'ry wave asleep, Ten thousand forms of death are in the deep. In that abyss the Gods their vengeance store, For broken vows of thofe who falsely swore. There winged storms on sea-born Venus wait, To vindicate the justice of her state. Thus I to thee the means of safety show; And, lost myself, would still preserve my foe. . False as thou art; I not thy death design: O rather live, to be the cause of mine! Should fome avenging storm thy vessel tear, (But heav'n forbid my words should omen bear) Then in thy face thy perjur'd vows would fly; And my wrong'd ghost be present to thy eye. With threat'ning looks think thou behold'It me

stare, Gasping my mouth, and clotted all my hair. Then, should fork'd lightning and red thunder fall, What couldst thou say, but, I deserv'd 'em all? Lest this should happen, make not haste away; To Thun the danger will be worth thy stay. Have pity on thy son, if not on me: My death alone is guilt enough for thee.

What has his youth, what have thy Gods deserv'd,
To fink in seas, who were from fires preserv'd ?
But neither Gods nor parent didst thou bear;
Smooth stories all to please a woman's ear,
False as the tale of thy romantic life.
Nor yet am I thy first-deluded wife:
Left to pursuing foes Creüsa 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,
Sev’n winters kept thee wand'ring on the seas,
Thy starv'd companions, cast alhore, I fed,
Thyself admitted to my crown and bed.
To harbor strangers, succor the distrest,
Was kind enough; but, oh, too kind the rest!
Curst be the cave which first


ruin brought, Where, from the storm, we common shelter

sought! A dreadful howling echo'd round the place: The mountain nymphs, thought I, my nuptials

I thought so then, but now too late I know
The furies yell’d my fun’rals from below.
O chastity and violated fame,
Exact your dues to my dead hustand's name!

By death redeem my reputation loft,
And to his arms restore my guilty ghost.
Close by my palace, in a gloomy grove,
Is rais'd 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, cry'd, Dido, come. She comes; thy wife thy lawful summons hears ; But comes more slowly, clogg'd with conscious &

fears. Forgive the wrong I offer'd to thy bed; Strong were his charms, who my weak faith milled. His Goddess mother, and his aged fire Born on his back, did to my fall conspire. Oh! such he was, and is, that, were he true, Without a bluth I might his love pursue. But cruel stars my birth-day did attend; And as my fortune open'd, it must end. . My plighted lord was at the altar lain, Whose wealth was made my bloody brother's gain. Friendless, and follow'd by the murd'rer's hate, To foreign countries I remov'd my fate;

And here, a suppliant, froin the natives hands
I bought the ground on which my city stands,
With all the coast that stretches to the sea;
E’en to the friendly port that shelter'd thee:
Then rais'd these walls, which mount into the air,
At once my neighbours wonder, and their fear.
For now they arm; and round me leagues are

My scarce establish'd empire to invade,
To man my new-built walls I must prepare,
An helpless woman, and unskill’d in war.
Yet thousand rivals to my love pretend;
And for my person would my crown defend :
Whofe jarring votes in one complaint agree,
That each unjustly is disdain'd for thee.
To proud Hyarbas give me up a prey;
(For that must follow, if thou goest away.)
Or to my husband's murd'rer leave my life,
That to the husband he may add the wife.
Go then, frnce no complaints can move thy mind:
Go, perjur'd man, but leave thy Gods behind.
Touch not those Gods, by whom thou art forsworn,
Who will in impious hands no more be born :
Thy facrilegious worship they disdain,
And rather would the Grecian fires suitain.

Perhaps my greatest shame is ftill to come,

of thee lies hid within my womb.
The babe unborn must perish by thy hate,
And perish guiltless in his mother's fate.
Some God, thou say'st, thy voyage does command;
Would the fame God had barr'd thee from my

The same, I doubt not, thy departure steers,
Who kept thee out at sea so many years ;
While thy long labors were a price so great,
As thou to purchase Troy would'st not repeat.
But Tyber now thou seek'st, to be at best,
When there arriv'd, 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 dow'r I bring, And, without conqu’ring, here thou art a king. Here thou to Carthage may'st transfer thy Troy: Here young

Ascanius may his arms employ; And, while we live secure in soft repose, Bring many laurels home from conquer'd foes. By Cupid's arrows, I adjare 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;

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