« FöregåendeFortsätt »
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,
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
By death redeem my reputation loft,
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
Perhaps my greatest shame is ftill to come,
of thee lies hid within my womb.
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;