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If e'er our vows deserv'd thy aid divine,
Vouchsafe thy succour, and confirm thy sign.'
Scarce had he spoke, when sudden from the pole,
Full on the left, the happy thunders roll;
A star shot sweeping through the shades of night,
And drew behind a radiant trail of light,
That o'er the palace, gliding from above,
To point our way, descends in Ida's grove ;
Then left a long continu'd stream in view,
The track still glittering where the glory flew.
The flame past gleaming with a bluish glare,
And smokes of sulphur fill the tainted air.

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At this convine'd, arose my reverend sire, Address'd the gods, and hail'd the sacred fire. Proceed, ny friends, no longer I delay, But instant follow where you lead the way. Ye gods, by these your omens, you ordain That from the womb of fate shall rise again, To light and life, a glorious second Troy; Then save this house, and this auspicious boy; Convinc'd by omens so divinely bright, I go, my son, companion of thy flight.' Thus he and nearer now in curling spires Through the long walls roll'd on the roaring fires. Haste then, my sire,' I cry'd, my neck ascend, With joy beneath your sacred load I bend; Together will we share, where'er I go, One common welfare, or one common woe. Ourself with care will young Iülus lead; At safer distance you my spouse succeed; Heed too these orders, ye attendant train; Without the wall stands Ceres' vacant fane, Rais'd on a mount; an aged cypress near, Preserv'd for ages with religious fear; Thither, from different roads assembling, come, And meet embody'd at the sacred dome : Thou, thou, my sire, our gods and relics bear; These hands, yet horrid with the stains of war, Refrain their touch unhallow'd till the day, When the pure stream shall wash the guilt away.'

"Now, with a lion's spoils bespread, I take My sire, a pleasing burthen, on by back; Close clinging to my hand, and pressing nigh, With steps unequal tripp'd Iülus by; Behind, my lov'd Creüsa took her way; Through every lonely dark recess we stray: And I, who late th' embattled Greeks could dare, Their flying darts, and whole embody'd war, Now take alarm, while horrours reign around, At every breeze, and start at every sound. With fancy'd fears my busy thoughts were wild For my dear father, and endanger'd child.

"Now, to the city gates approaching near, I seem the sound of trampling feet to hear. Alarm'd, my sire look'd forward through the shade, And, Fly my son, they come, they come!' he said; 'Lo! from their shields I see the splendours stream; And ken distinct the helmet's fiery gleam:' And here, some envious god, in this dismay, This sudden terrour, snatch'd my sense away. For while o'er devious paths I wildly trod, Studious to wander from the beaten road; I lost my dear Creüsa, nor can tell From that sad moment, if by fate she fell; Or sunk fatigu'd; or straggled from the train ; But ah! she never blest these eyes again! Nor, till to Ceres' ancient wall we came, Did I suspect her lost, nor miss the danie.

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There all the train assembled, all but she,
Lost to her friends, her father, son, aud me.
What men, what gods did my wild fury spare?
At both I rav'd, and madden'd with despair.
In Troy's last ruins did I ever know

A scene so cruel! such transcendent woe!
Our gods, my son, and father, to the train
I next commend, and hide them in the plain;
Then fly for Troy, and shine in arms again.
Resolv'd the burning town to wander o'er,
And tempt the dangers that I scap'd before.
Now to the gate 1 run with furious haste,
Whence first from Ilion to the plain I past;
Dart round my eyes in every place in vain,
And tread my former footsteps o'er again.
Surrounding horrours all my soul affright;
And more, the dreadful silence of the night.
Next to my house I flew without delay,
If there, if haply there she bent her way.
In vain the conquering foes were enter'd there;
High o'er the dome, the flames emblaze the air;
Fierce to devour, the fiery tempest flies,

Swells in the wind, and thunders to the skies.
Back to th' embattled citadel I ran,

And search'd her father's regal walls in vain.
Ulysses now, and Phoenix I survey,

Who guard, in Juno's fane, the gather'd prey:
In one huge heap the Trojan wealth was roll'd,
Refulgent robes, and bowls of massy gold;
A pile of tables on the pavement nods,
Snatch'd from the blazing temples of the gods.
A mighty train of shrieking mothers bound,
Stood with their captive children trembling round
Yet more I boldly raise my voice on high,
And in the shade on dear Creüsa cry;
Call on her name a thousand times in vain,
But still repeat the darling name again.
Thus while I raye and roll my searching eyes,
Solemn and slow I saw her shade arise,
The form enlarg'd majestic mov'd along ;
Fear rais'd my hair, and horrour chain'd my
tongue :

Thus as I stood amaz'd, the heav'nly fair
With these mild accents sooth'd my fierce despair:

"Why with excess of sorrow raves in vain
My dearest lord, at what the gods ordain?
Oh could I share thy toils!-but fate denies;
And Jove, dread Jove, the sovereign of the skies.
In long, long exile, art thou doom'd to sweep
Seas after seas, and plough the wat'ry deep.
Hesperia shall be thine, where Tyber glides
Through fruitful realms, and rolls in easy tides.
There shall thy fates a happier lot provide,
A glorious empire, and a royal bride.
Then let your sorrows for Creusa cease;
For know, I never shall be led to Greece;
Nor feel the victor's chain, nor captive's shame,
A slave to some imperious Argive dame,
No!-born a princess, sprung from Heav'n above,
Ally'd to Venus, and deriv'd from Jove,
Sacred from Greece, 'tis mine, in these abodes,
To serve the glorious mother of the gods.
Farewell; and to our son thy care approve,
Our son, the pledge of our commutual love.'
"Thus she; and as I wept, and wish'd to say
Ten thousand things, dissoly'd in air away.
Thrice round her neck my cager arms I threw;
Thrice from my empty arms the phantom flew,
Swift as the wind, with momentary flight,
Swift as a fleeting vision of the night.

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Now, day approaching, to my longing train,
From ruin'd Ilion I return again;

To whom, with wonder and surprise, I find
A mighty crowd of new companions join'd;
A host of willing exiles round me stand,
Matrons, and men, a miserable band;
Eager the wretches pour from every side,
To share my fortunes on the foamy tide;
Valiant, and arm'd, my conduct they implore,
To lead and fix them on some foreign shore:
And now, o'er Ida with an early ray

Flames the bright star, that leads the golden day.
No hopes of aid in view, and every gate
Fossest by Greece, at length I yield to fate.
Safe o'er the hill my father I convey,
And bear the venerable load away."




NZAS proceeds in his relation: he gives an account of the fleet in which he sailed, and the success of his first voyage to Thrace: from thence he directs his course to Delos, and asks the oracle what place the gods had appointed for his habitation? By a mistake of the oracle's answer, he settles in Crete; his household gods give him the true sense of the oracle in a dream. He follows their advice, and makes the best of his way for Italy: he is cast on several shores, and meets with very surprising adventures, till at length he lands on Sicily; where his father Anchises dies. This is the place which he was sailing from, when the tempest rose, and threw him upon the Carthaginian coast.

"WHEN Heav'n destroy'd, by too severe a fate, The throne of Priam, and the Phrygian state, When Troy, though Neptune rais'd her bulwarks round,


The pride of Asia, smok'd upon the ground;
We sought in vacant regions new abodes,
Call'd by the guiding omens of the gods.
Secret, a sudden navy we provide,
Beneath Antandros, and the hills of Ide.
Doubtful, where Heav'n would fix our wand'ring
Our gather'd pow'rs prepare to plough the main.
Scarce had the summer shot a genial ray;
My sire commands the canvass to display,
And steer wherever fate should point the way.
With tears I leave the port, my native shore,
And those dear fields, where Ilion rose before.
An exil'd wretch, I lead into the floods,
My son, my friends, and all my vanquish'd gods.
"The warlike Thracians till a boundless plain,
Sacred to Mars, Lycurgus' ancient reign;
Ally'd to Troy, while fortune own'd her cause;
The same their gods and hospitable laws;
Thither, with fates averse, my course I bore,
And rais'd a town amid the winding shore.

Then from my name the rising city call,
And stretch along the strand th' embattled wall.
Here to my mother, and the favouring gods,
I offer'd victims by the rolling floods;
But slew a stately bull to mighty Jove,
Who reigns the sovereign of the pow'rs above.
"Rais'd on a mount, a cornel grove was nigh,
And with thick branches stood a myrtle by.
With verdant boughs to shade my altars round,
I came, and try'd to rend them from the ground.
When lo! horrid prodigy I see;

For scarce my hands had wrench'd the rooted tree,
When, from the fibres, drops of crimson gore
Ran trickling down, and stain'd the sable shore.
Amaz'd, I shook with horrour and affright,
My blood all curdled at the dreadful sight;
Curious the latent causes to explore,
With trembling hands a second plant I tore;
That second wounded plant distill'd around
Red drops of blood, and sprinkled all the ground.
Rack'd with a thousand fears, devout I bow'd
To every nymph, and Thracia's guardian god,
These omens to avert by pow'r divine,
And kindly grant a more auspicious sign.
But when once more we tugg'd with toiling hands,
And eager bent my knees against the sands;
Live I to speak it ?-from the tomb I hear
A hollow groan, that shock'd my trembling ear,
How can thy pious hands, Æneas, rend
The bury'd body of thy hapless friend;
This stream that trickles from the wounded tree
Is Trojan blood, and once ally'd to thee.
Ah! fly this barbarous land, this guilty shore,
Fly, fly the fate of murder'd Polydore.
This grove of lances, from my body slain,
Now blooms with vegetable life again.'

"Then, as amaz'd, in deep suspense I hung,
Fear rais'd my hair, and horrour chain'd my
Ill-fated Priam, when the Grecian pow'rs [tongue.
With a close siege begirt the Dardan tow'rs,
No more confiding in the strength of Troy,
Sent to the Thracian prince the hapless boy,
With mighty treasures, to support him there,
Remov'd from all the dangers of the war.
This wretch, when Ilion's better fortunes cease,
Clos'd with the proud victorious arms of Greece;
Broke through all sacred laws, and uncontrol'd
Destroy'd his royal charge, to seize the gold.
Curs'd gold!-how high will daring mortals rise
In ev'ry guilt, to reach the glittering prize?
Soon as my soul recover'd from her fears,
Before my father and the gather'd peers,
I lay the dreadful omens of the gods;
All vote at once to fly the dire abodes;
To leave th' unhospitable realm behind,
And spread our op'ning canvass to the wind.
But first we paid the rites to Polydore,
And rais'd a mighty tomb amid the shore.
Next, to his ghost, adorn'd with cypress boughs
And sable wreaths, two solemn altars rose;
With lamentable cries and hair unbound,
The Trojan dames in order mov'd around.
Warm milk and sacred blood in bowls we brought,
To lure the spirit with the mingled draught;
Compos'd the soul; and, with a dismal knell,
Took thrice the melancholy last farewell.

"Soon as our fleet could trust the smiling sea, And the soft breeze had smooth'd the wat'ry way; Call'd by the whisp'ring gales, we rig the ships, Crowd round the shores, and lanch into the deeps.

Swift from the port our eager course we ply,
And lands and towns roll backward, as we fly.
"By Doris lov'd, and Ocean's azure god,
Lies a fair isle amid th' gean flood;
Which Phoebus fix'd; for once she wander'd round
The shores, and floated on the vast profound.
But now unmov'd, the peopled region braves
The roaring whirlwinds, and the furious waves,
Safe in her open ports the sacred isle
Receiv'd us, harrass'd with the naval toil.
Our rever'nce due to Phoebus' town we pay,
And holy Anius meets us on the way;

Anius, whose brows the wreaths and laurels grace,
Priest of the god, and sovereign of the place.
Well-pleas'd to see our train the shore ascend,
He flew to meet my sire, his ancient friend :
In hospitable guise our hands he prest,
Then to the palace led each honour'd guest,
To Phoebus aged temple I repair,
And suppliant to the god prefer my pray'r:
To wand'ring wretches, who in exile roam,
Grant, O Thymbræan god! a settled home:
Oh! grant thy suppliants, their long labours

A race to flourish, and a town to last;
Preserve this little second Troy in peace,
Snatch'd from Achilles and the sword of Greece:
Vouchsafe, great father, some auspicious sign;
And oh! inform us with thy light divine,
Where lies our way? and what auspicious guide,
To foreign realms shall lead us o'er the tide ?'

"Sudden, the dire alarm the temple took;
The laurels, gates, and lofty mountains, shook.
Burst with a dreadful roar, the veils display
The hallow'd tripods in the face of day.
Humbled we fell; then, prostrate on the ground,
We hear these accents in an awful sound:
'Ye valiant sons of Troy, the land that bore
Your mighty ancestors to light before,
Once more their great descendants shall embrace;
Go-seek the ancient mother of your race.
There the wide world, Æneas' house shall sway,
And down, from son to son, th' imperial power

"Thus Phoebus spoke; and joy tumultuous fir'd The thronging crowds; and eager all enquir'd, What realm, what town, his oracles ordain, Where the kind god would fix the wand'ring train? Then in his mind my sire revolving o'er The long, long records of the times before:

Learn, ye assembled peers,' he cries, from me, The happy realm the laws of fate decree; Fair Crete sublimely tow'rs amid the floods, Prond nurse of Jove, the sovereign of the gods. There ancient Ida stands, and thence we trace The first memorials of the Trojan race; A hundred cities the blest isle contains, And boasts a vast extent of fruitful plains. Hence our fam'd ancestor, old Teucer, bore His course, and gain'd the fair Rhætean shore, There the great chief the seat of empire chose, Before proud Troy's majestic structures rose; Till then, if rightly I record the tale, Our old forefathers till'd the lowly vale. From hence arriv'd the mother of the gods, Hence her loud cymbals and her sacred woods: Hence, at her rites religious silence roigus, And lions whirl her chariot o'er the plains. Then fly we speedy where the gods command, Appease the winds, and seek the Cretan land:

Nor distant is the shore; if Jove but smile,
Three days shall waft us to the blissful isle.'

"This said; he slays the victims due, and loads
In haste the smoking altars of the gods.
A bull to Phoebus, and a bull was slain
To thee, great Neptune, monarch of the main;
A milkwhite ewe to ev'ry western breeze,
A black, to ev'ry storm that sweeps the seas.
Now fame reports Idomeneus' retreat,
Expell'd and banish'd from the throne of Crete;
Free from the foe the vacant region lay:

We leave the Delian shore, and plough the wat❜ry


By fruitful Naxos, o'er the flood we fly,
Where to the Bacchanals the hills reply;
By green Donysa next and Paros steer,
Where, white in air, her glitt'ring rocks appear.
Thence through the Cyclades the navy glides,
Whose clust'ring islands stud the silver tides.
Loud shout the sailors, and to Crete we fly;

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To Crete, our country,' was the general cry. Swift shoots the fleet before the driving blast, And on the Cretan shore descends at last.

"With eager speed I frame a town, and call
From ancient Pergamus the rising wall.
Pleas'd with the name, my Trojans I command
To raise strong tow'rs, and settle in the land.
Soon as our lusty youth the fleet could moor,
And draw the vessels on the sandy shore,
Some join the nuptial bands: with busy toil
Their fellows plough the new-discover'd soil.
To frame impartial laws I bend my cares,
Allot the dwellings, and assign the shares.
When lo! from standing air and poison'd skies,
A sudden plague with dire contagion flics.
On corn and trees the dreadful pest began;
And last the fierce infection seiz'd on man.
They breathe their souls in air; or drag with pain
Their lives, now lengthen'd out for woes, in vain;
Their wonted food the blasted fields deny,
And the red dog star fires the sultry sky.
My sire advis'd, to measure back the main,
Consult, and beg the Delian god again
To end our woes, his succour to display,
And to our wand'rings point the certain way.
""Twas night; soft slumbers had the world

When, as I lay compos'd in pleasing rest,
Those gods I bore from daming Troy, arise
In awful figures to my wond'ring eyes:
Close at my couch they stood, divinely bright,
And shone distinct by Cynthia's gleaming light.
Then, to dispel the cares that rack'd my breast,
These words the visionary pow'rs addrest :

"Those truths the god in Delos would repeat,
By us,
his envoys, he unfolds in Crete;
By us, companions of thy arms and thee,
From flaming Ilion o'er the swelling sea.
Led by our care, shall thy descendants rise,
The world's majestic monarchs, to the skies
Then build thy city for imperial sway,
And boldly take the long laborious way.
Forsake this region; for the Delian pow'r
Assign'd not for thy scat the Gnossian shore.
Once by (Enotrians till'd, there lies a place,
Twas call'd Hesperia by the Grecian race;
For martial deeds and fruits renown'd by fame;
But since, Italia, from the leader's name.
These are the native realms the fates assign}
Hence rose the fathers of the Trojan line;

The great läsius, sprung from Heaven above,
And ancient Dardanus, deriv'd from Jove,
Rise then, in haste these joyful tidings bear,
These truths unquestion'd to thy father's ear.
Begone-the fair Ausonian realms explore,
For Jove himself denies the Cretan shore.'

"Struck with the voice divine, and awful sight,
No common dream, or vision of the night;
I saw the wreaths, their features; and a stream
Of trickling sweat ran down from every limb.
I started from my bed, and rais'd on high
My hands and voice in rapture to the sky.
Then (to our gods the due oblations paid)
The scene divine before my sire I laid.
He owns his errour of each ancient place,
Our two great founders, and the double race.


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My son,' he cry'd, whom adverse fates emOh! exercis'd in all the woes of Troy ! [ploy, Now I reflect, Cassandra's word divine Assign'd these regions to the Dardan line. But who surmis'd, the sons of Troy should come To fair Hesperia from their distant home? Or who gave credit to Cassandra's strain, Doom'd by the fates to prophesy in vain ? Pursue we now a surer, safer road, By Phoebus pointed, and obey the god.' Glad we comply, and leave a few behind; Then spread our sails to catch the driving wind; Forsake this realm; the sparkling waves divide, And the swift vessels shoot along the tide.

"Now vanish'd from our eyes the lessening ground;

And all the wide horizon stretching round,
Above was sky, beneath was sea profound:
When, black'ning by degrees, a gathering cloud,
Charg'd with big storms, frown'd dreadful o'er the

And darken'd all the main; the whirlwinds roar,
And roll the waves in mountains to the shore.
Snatch'd by the furious gust, the vessels keep
Their road no more, but scatter o'er the deep:
The thunders roll, the forky lightnings fly;
And in a burst of rain descends the sky.
Far from our course was dash'd the navy wide,
And dark we wander o'er the tossing tide.
Not skilful Palinure in such a sea,
So black with storms, distinguish'd night from day;
Nor knew to turn the helm, or point the way.
Three nights, without one guiding star in view,
Three days, withont the Sun, the navy flew;
The fourth, by dawn, the swelling shores we spy,
See the thin smokes, that melt into the sky,
And bluish hills just opening on the eye.
We furl the sails, with bending oars divide
The flashing waves, and sweep the foamy tile.
"Safe from the storm the Strophades I gain,
Encircled by the vast Ionian main,
Where dwelt Celano with her barpy train;
Since Boreas' sons had chas'd the direful guests
From Phineus' palace, and their wonted feasts.
But fiends to scourge mankind, so fierce, so fell,
Heav'n never sunimon'd from the depths of Hell;
Bloated and gorg'd with prey, with wombs obscene,
Foul paunches, and with ordure still unclean;
A virgin face, with wings and hooky claws;
Death in their eyes, and famine in their jaws.
"The port we enter'd, and with joy beheld
Huge herds of oxen graze the verdant field,
And feeding flocks of goats, without a swain,
That range at large, and bound along the plain;

We seize, we slay, and to the copious feast
Call every god, and Jove himself a guest.
Then on the winding shore the tables plac'd,
And sat indulging in the rich repast;
When from the mountains, terrible to view,
On sounding wings the monster Harpies flew.
They, taint the banquet with their touch abhorr'd,
Or snatch the smoking viands from the board.
A stench offensive follows where they fly,
And loud they scream, and raise a dreadful cry.
Thence to a cavern'd rock the train remove,
And the close shelter of a shady grove;
Once more prepare the feast, the tables raise;
Once more with fires the loaded altars blaze.
Again the fiends from their dark covert fly,
But from a different quarter of the sky,
With loathsome claws they snatch the food away,
Scream o'er our heads, and poison all the prey.
Enrag'd, I bid my train their arms prepare,
And with the direful monsters wage the war.
Close in the grass, observant of the word,
They hide the shining shield, and gleaming sword.
Then, as the harpies from the hills once more
Pour'd shrieking down, and crowded round the
On his high stand Misenus sounds from far [shore,
The brazen trump, the signal of the war.
With unaccustom'd fight we flew, to slay
The forms obscene, dread monsters of the sea.
But proof to steel their hides and plumes remain ;
We strike th' impenetrable fiends in vain,
Who from the fragments wing'd th' aërial way,
And leave, involv'd in stench, the mangled prey:
All but Celano ;-from a pointed rock,
Where perch'd she sat, the boding fury spoke:
'Then was it not enough, ye sons of Troy,
Our flocks to slaughter, and our herds destroy?
But war, shall impious war, your wrongs maintain,
And drive the harpies from their native reign?
Hear then your dreadful doom with due regard,
Which mighty Jove to Phoebus has declar'd;
Which Phoebus open'd to Celæno's view,
And I, the furies' queen, unfold to you.
To promis'd Italy your course you ply,
And safe to Italy at length shall fly;
But never, never raise your city there,
Till, in due vengeance for the wrongs we bear,
Imperious hunger urge you to devour
Those very boards on which you fed before.'

"She ceas'd, and fled into the gloomy wood, With hearts dejected my companions stood, And sudden horrours froze their curdling blood. Down drop the shield and spear; from fight we cease,

And humbly sue by suppliant vows for peace;
And whether goddesses, or fiends from Hell,
Prostrate before the monstrous forms we fell.
But old Anchises, by the beating floods,
Invok'd with sacrifice th' immortal gods;
And rais'd his hands and voice:-'Ye pow'rs divine,
Avert these woes, and spare a righteous line.'
Then he commands to cut the cords away;
With southern gales we plough the foamy sea.
And, where the friendly breeze or pilot guides,
With flying sails we stem the murmuring tides.
Now, high in view, amid the circling floods,
We ken Zacynthus crown'd with waving woods.
Dulichian coasts, and Samian hills, we spy,
And proud Neritos tow'ring in the sky.
Rough Ithaca we shun, a rocky shore,
And curse the land that dire Ulysses bore


Then dim Leucate swell'd to sight, who shrouds
His tall aërial brow in ambient clouds;
Last opens, by degrees, Apollo's fane,
The dread of sailors on the wintry main.

To this small town, fatigu'd with toil, we haste;
The circling anchors from the prows are cast.
Safe to the land beyond our hopes restor❜d,
We paid our vows to Heaven's almighty lord.
All bright in suppling oil, my friends employ
Their limbs in wrestling, and revive with joy
On Actian shores the solemn games of Troy.
Pleas'd we reflect, that we had pass'd in peace,
Thro' foes unnumber'd, and the towns of Greece.
"Meantime the Sun his annual race performs,
And blust'ring Boreas fills the sea with storms;
I hung the brazen buckler on the door,
Which once in fight the warlike Abas bore;
And thus inscrib'd-' These arms, with blood dis-



Doom'd to that hero's haughty heir, I gave
A son to Pyrrhus, more than half a slave.
From me, to fair Hermione be fled,
Of Leda's race, and sought a Spartan bed;
My slighted charms to Helenus resign'd,
And in the bridal bands his captives join'd.
But fierce Orestes, by the furies tost,
And mad with vengeance for the bride he lost,
Swift on the monarch from his ambush flew,
And at Apollo's hallow'd altar slew.
On Helenus devolv'd (the tyrant slain)
A portion of the realm, a large domain :
From Chaon's name the fruitful tract he calls,
And from old Pergamus, his growing walls.
But oh! what winds, what fates, what gracious


Led you, unknowing, to these friendly shores?
Does yet Ascanius live, the hope of Troy?
Does his fond mother's death afflict the boy?
Or glory's charms his little soul inflame,
To match my Hector's or his father's fame?'
"So spoke the queen with mingled sobs and cries,
And tears in vain ran trickling from her eyes.
When lo! in royal pomp the king descends
With a long train, and owns his ancient friends.
Then to the town his welcome guests he led;
Tear follow'd tear, at ev'ry word he said.
Here in a foreign region I behold

A little Troy, an image of the old ;
Here creeps along a poor penurious stream,
That fondly bears Scamander's mighty name:
A second Scaan gate I clasp with joy,
In dear remembrance of the first in Troy.
With me, the monarch bids my friends, and all,
Indulge the banquet in the regal hall,
Crown'd with rich wine the foamy goblets hold;
And the vast feast was serv'd in massy gold.

"Two days were past, and now the southern

From conquering Greece the great Æneas gain'd:'
Then, rous'd at my command, the sailors sweep
And dash with bending oars the sparkling deep.
Soon had we lost Phæacia's sinking tow'rs,
And skimm'd along Epirus' flying shores.
On the Chaonian port at length we fall;
Thence we ascend to high Buthrotos' wall.
Astonish'd here a strange report we found,
That Trojan Helenus in Greece was crown'd.
The captive prince (victorious Pyrrhus dead)
At once succeeded to his throne and bed;
And fair Andromache, to Troy restor❜d,
Once more was wedded to a Dardan lord.
With eager joy I left the fleet, and went
To hail my royal friends, and learn the strange
"Before the walls, within a gloomy wood,
Where new Simois roll'd his silver flood;
By chance, Andromache that moment paid
The mournful offerings to her Hector's shade.
A tomb, an empty tomb, her hands compose
Of living turf; and two fair altars rose.
Sad scene! that still provok'd the tears she shed;
And here the queen invok'd the mighty dead.
When lo! as I advanc'd, and drew more nigh,
She saw my Trojan arms and ensigns fly;
So strange a sight astonish'd to survey,
The princess trembles, falls, and faints away.
Her beauteous frame the vital warmth forsook,
And, scarce recover'd, thus at length she spoke :
"Ha!-is it true ?-in person? and alive?
Still, dost thou still, oh! goddess-born, survive?
Or, if no more thou breathe the vital air,
Where is my lord, my Hector, tell me where?'
Then, the big sorrow streaming from her eyes,
She fill'd the air with agonizing cries.
Few words to soothe her raging grief I say,
And scarce those few, for sobs, could find their way.
"Ah! trust your eyes, no phantoms here im-Tell me, what dangers I must first oppose,


I live indeed, but drag a life of woes!
Say then, oh! say, has fortune yet been just
To worth like yours, since Hector sunk in dust?
Or oh! is that great hero's consort led
(His dear Andromache) to Pyrrhus' bed?'
To this, with lowly voice, the fair replies,
While on the ground she fixt her streaming eyes:
"Thrice blest Polyxena! condemn'd to fall
By vengeful Greece beneath the Trojan wall;
Stabb'd at Pelides' tomb the victim bled,
To death deliver'd from the victor's bed.
Nor lots disgrac'd her with a chain, like me,
A wretched captive, dragg'd from sea to sea!


Call us aboard, and stretch the swelling sails.
A thousand doubts distract my anxious breast,
And thus the royal prophet I address'd:
'Oh sacred prince of Troy, to whom 'tis giv'n,
To speak events, and search the will of Heav'n,
The secret mind of Phoebus to declare
From laurels, tripods, and from every star:
To know the voice of every fowl that flies,
The signs of every wing that beats the skies;
Instruct me, sacred seer; since every god,
With each blest omen, bids me plough the flood,
To reach fair Italy, and measure o'er
A length of ocean to the destin'd shore:
The Harpy queen, and she alone, relates
A scene of sad unutterable fates,

A dreadful famine sent from Heaven on high,
With all the gather'd vengeance of the sky:

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And how o'ercome the mighty weight of woes.'
'Now, the due victims slain, the king implores
The grace and favour of th' immortal pow'rs;
Unbinds the fillets from his sacred head,
Then, by the hand, in solemn state he led
His trembling guest to Phoebus' fair abode,
Struck with an awful reverence of the god.
At length, with all the sacred fury fir'd,
Thus spoke the prophet, as the god inspir'd:
"Since, mighty chief, the deities, your guides,
With prosperous omens waft you o'er the tides,
Such is the doom of fate, the will of Jove,
The firm decree of him who reigns above.

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