"O Jove!' she cry'd, and shall he thus delude Me and my realm? why is he not pursu❜d ? Arm, arm,' she cry'd, ' and let our Tyrians board With ours his fleet, and carry fire and sword; Leave nothing unattempted to destroy 171 "That perjur'd race, then let us die with joy. What if th' event of war uncertain were? "Nor death nor danger can the desp❜rate fear. " But, oh, too late! this thing I should have done When first I plac'd the traitor on my throne. 176 'Behold the faith of him who sav'd from fire < His honour'd household gods! his aged sire "His pious shoulders from Troy's flames did bear. "Why did I not his carcass piece-meal tear, 180 And cast it in the sea? why not destroy All his companions, and beloved boy 'Ascanius? and his tender limbs have drest, And made the father on the son to feast? "Thou Sun! whose lustre all things here below 'Surveys, and Juno! conscious of my woe, "Revengeful Furies! and Queen Hecate!

Receive and grant my pray'r! If he the sea

186

• Must needs escape, and reach th' Ausonian land,
"If Jove decree it, Jove's decree must stand. 190
< When landed may he be with arms opprest
By his rebelling people, be distrest

By exile from his country, be divorc'd
From young Ascanius' sight, and be enforc'd
To implore foreign aids, and lose his friends
'By violent and undeserved ends!

196

"When to conditions of unequal peace
'He shall submit, then may he not possess
· Kingdom nor life, and find his funeral

'I' th' sands when he before his day shall fall! 200 And ye, oh Tyrians! with immortal hate 'Pursue this race; this service dedicate

'To my deplored ashes: let there be

"Twixt us and them no league nor amity. May from my bones a new Achilles rise 'That shall infest the Trojan colonies

205

210

With fire, and sword, and famine; when at length 'Tine to our great attempts contributes strength; 'Our seas, our shores, our armies, theirs oppose, And may our children be for ever foes!' A ghastly paleness death's approach portends, Then trembling she the fatal pile ascends. Viewing the Trojan relics, she unsheath'd Æneas' sword, not for that use bequeath'd; Then on the guilty bed she gently lays Herself, and softly thus lamenting prays: 'Dear relics! whilst that Gods and fates give leave, 'Free me from care, and my glad soul receive. That date which Fortune gave I now must end,

And to the shades a noble ghost descend.

Sichæus' blood, by his false brother spilt, 'I have reveng'd, and a proud city built.

Happy, alas! too happy I had liv'd,

Had not the Trojan on my coast arriv'd. • But shall I die without revenge? yet die Thus, thus with joy to thy Sichæus fly.

215

220

225

6 My conscious foe my fun'ral fire shall view 6 From sea, and may that omen him pursue!' Her fainting hand let fall the sword besmear'd 229 With blood, and then the mortal wound appear'd. Through all the court the fright and clamours rise, Which the whole city fills with fears and cries As loud as if her Carthage or old Tyre The foe had enter'd, and had set on fire. Amazed Anne with speed ascends the stairs, 235 And in her arms her dying sister rears: 'Did you for this yourself and me beguile? 'For such an end did I erect this pile? 'Did you so much despise mé, in this fate Myself with you not to associate?

.

'Yourself and me, alas! this fatal wound
'The senate and the people doth confound.

240

I'll wash her wound with tears, and at her death "My lips from her's shall draw her parting breath.' Then with her vest the wound she wipes and dries; Thrice with her arm the Queen attempts to rise, But her strength failing, falls into a swoon, Life's last efforts yet striving with her wound: Thrice on her bed she turns, with wand'ring sight Seeking, she groans when she beholds the light. 250 Then Juno, pitying her disastrous fate, Sends Iris down her pangs to mitigate. (Since if we fall before th' appointed day, Nature and Death continue long their fray.) Iris descends; This fatal fock (says she) 'To Pluto I bequeath, and set thee free,

255

Then clips her hair: cold numbness straight bereaves

Her corpse of sense, and th' air her soul receives.

SARPEDON's SPEECH TO GLAUCUS.

IN THE TWELFTH BOOK OF HOMER.

TRUS to Glaucus spake

Divine Sarpedon, since he did not find
Others as great in place as great in mind.
Above the rest why is our pomp, our pow'r,
Our flocks, our herds, and our possessions more?
Why all the tributes land and sea affords,
Heap'd in great chargers, load our sumptuous
boards?

Our cheerful guests carouse the sparkling tears
Of the rich grape, whilst music charms their ears.
Why as we pass, do those on Xanthus' shore
As gods behold us, and as gods adore?
But that, as well in danger as degree,
We stand the first; that when our Licians see
Our brave examples, they admiring say,
Behold our gallant leaders! these are they
Deserve the greatness, and unenvy'd stand,
Since what they act transcends what they command.
Could the declining of this fate (oh, friend!)
Our date to immortality extend?

Or if death sought not them who seek not death
Would I advance? or should my vainer breath
With such a glorious folly thee inspire?
But since with Fortune Nature doth conspire,
Since age, disease, or some less noble end,
Tho' not less certain, doth our days attend;
Since 'tis decreed, and to this period lead
A thousand ways, the noblest path we'll tread,
And bravely on till they, or we, or all,
A common sacrifice to honour fall.

EPIGRAM.

FROM MARTIAL.

PR'YTHEE die and set me free,

Or else be

Kind, and brisk, and gay, like me :
I pretend not to the wise ones,
To the grave, to the grave,
Or the precise ones.

'Tis not cheeks, nor lips, nor eyes,
That I prize,

Quick conceits, or sharp replies;
If wise thou wilt appear and knowing,

Repartee, repartee

To what I'm doing.

Pr'ythee why the room so dark?
Not a spark

Left to light me to the mark: