A love so violent, so strong, so sure,
That neither age can change, nor art can cure.
How this may be perform'd, now take my
mind;
Ascanius by his father is design'd

To come, with presents laden, from the port,
To gratify the queen, and gain the court.
I mean to plunge the boy in pleasing sleep,
And, ravish'd, in Idalian bowers to keep,
Or high Cythera, that the sweet deceit
May pass unseen, and none prevent the cheat.
Take thou his form and shape. I beg the grace,
But only for a night's revolving space,

Thyself a boy, assume a boy's dissembled face;
That when, amidst the fervour of the feast,
The Tyrian hugs and fonds thee on her breast,
And with sweet kisses in her arms constrains,
Thou mayst infuse thy venom in her veins.'
The god of love obeys, and sets aside
His bow and quiver, and his plumy pride:
He walks Iulus in his mother's sight,
And in the sweet resemblance takes delight.
The goddess then to young Ascanius flies,
And in a pleasing slumber seals his eyes:
Lull'd in her lap, amidst a train of Loves,
She gently bears him to her blissful groves,
Then with a wreath of myrtle crowns his head,
And softly lays him on a flowery bed.
Cupid meantime assumed his form and face,
Following Achates with a shorter pace,
And brought the gifts. The queen already sat
Amidst the Trojan lords, in shining state,
High on a golden bed: her princely guest
Was next her side; in order sat the rest.

Then canisters with bread are heap'd on high;
The' attendants water for their hands supply,
And, having wash'd, with silken towels dry.
Next fifty handmaids in long order bore

The censers, and with fumes the gods adore;
Then youths and virgins, twice as many, join
To place the dishes, and to serve the wine.
The Tyrian train, admitted to the feast,
Approach, and on the painted couches rest.
All on the Trojan gifts with wonder gaze,
But view the beauteous boy with more amaze,
His rosy-colour'd cheeks, his radiant eyes,
His motions, voice, and shape, and all the god's
disguise;

Nor pass unpraised the vest and veil divine,
Which wandering foliage and rich flowers entwine.
But, far above the rest, the royal dame
(Already doom'd to love's disastrous flame),
With eyes insatiate, and tumultuous joy,
Beholds the presents, and admires the boy.
The guileful god, about the hero long,
With children's play, and false embraces, hung;
Then sought the queen: she took him to her arms
With greedy pleasure, and devour'd his charms.
Unhappy Dido little thought what guest,
How dire a god, she drew so near her breast.
But he, not mindless of his mother's prayer,
Works in the pliant bosom of the fair,

[care.
And moulds her heart anew, and blots her former
The dead is to the living love resign'd;
And all Eneas enters in her mind.

Now, when the rage of hunger was appeased, The meat removed and every guest was pleased,

The golden bowls with sparkling wine are crown'd,
And through the palace cheerful cries resound.
From gilded roofs depending lamps display
Nocturnal beams, that emulate the day.

A golden bowl, that shone with gems divine,
The
queen commanded to be crown'd with wine-
The bowl that Belus used, and all the Tyrian line.
Then, silence through the hall proclaim'd, she
"O hospitable Jove! we thus invoke, [spoke-
With solemn rites, thy sacred name and power:
Bless to both nations this auspicious hour;
So may the Trojan and the Tyrian line
In lasting concord from this day combine.
Thou, Bacchus, god of joys and friendly cheer,
And gracious Juno, both be present here!
And you, my lords of Tyre, your vows address
To Heaven, with mine, to ratify the peace.'
The goblet then she took, with nectar crown'd
(Sprinkling the first libations on the ground),
And raised it to her mouth with sober grace,
Then, sipping, offer'd to the next in place.
"Twas Bitias whom she call'd-a thirsty soul:
He took the challenge, and embraced the bowl,
With pleasure swill'd the gold, nor ceased to draw,
Till he the bottom of the brimmer saw.
The goblet goes around: Töpas brought

His golden lyre, and sung what ancient Atlas taught―

The various labours of the wandering moon, And whence proceed the' eclipses of the sun; The' original of men and beasts; and whence The rains arise, and fires their warmth dispense, And fix'd and erring stars dispose their influence;

What shakes the solid earth; what cause delays
The summer nights, and shortens winter days.
With peals of shouts the Tyrians praise the song:
Those peals are echoed by the Trojan throng.
The' unhappy queen with talk prolong'd the night,
And drank large draughts of love with vast delight;
Of Priam much inquired, of Hector more;
Then ask'd what arms the swarthy Memnon wore,
What troops he landed on the Trojan shore;
The steeds of Diomede varied the discourse,
And fierce Achilles, with his matchless force:
At length, as Fate and her ill stars required,
To hear the series of the war desired.
'Relate at large, my godlike guest (she said),
The Grecian stratagems, the town betray'd:
The fatal issue of so long a war,

Your flight, your wanderings, and your woes, declare :

For, since on every sea, on every coast,
Your men have been distress'd, your navy toss'd,
Seven times the sun has either tropic view'd,
The winter banish'd, and the spring renew'd.'

BOOK II.

The Argument.

Eneas relates how the city of Troy was taken, after a ten years' siege, by the treachery of Sinon, and the stratagem of a wooden horse. He declares the fixed resolution he had taken not to survive the ruin of his country, and the various adventures he met with in defence of it. At last having been before advised by Hector's ghost, and now by the appearance of his mother Venus, he is prevailed upon to leave the town, and settle his household gods in another country. In order to this, he carries off his father on his shoulders, and leads his little son by the hand, his wife following him behind. When he comes to the place appointed for the general rendezvous, he finds a great confluence of people, but misses his wife, whose ghost afterwards appears to him, and tells him the land which was designed for him.

ALL were attentive to the godlike man,
When from his lofty couch he thus began-
• Great queen, what you command me to relate,
Renews the sad remembrance of our fate:
An empire from its old foundations rent,
And every woe the Trojans underwent;
A peopled city made a desert place;
All that I saw, and part of which I was;
Not e'en the hardest of our foes could hear,
Nor stern Ulysses tell, without a tear.
And now the latter watch of wasting night,
And setting stars, to kindly rest invite.
But, since you take such interest in our woe,
And Troy's disastrous end desire to know,
I will restrain my tears, and briefly tell
What in our last and fatal night befell.