Should I be injur'd on your Phrygian fhore,
What help of kindred could I there implore?
Medea was by Jafon's flattery won :
may, like her, believe, and be undone.
Plain honeft hearts, like mine, fufpect no cheat,
And love contributes to its own deceit.
The ships, about whose fides loud tempefts roar,
With gentle winds were wafted from the fhore.
Your teeming mother dream'd a flaming brand,
Sprung from her womb, confum'd the Trojan land.
To fecond this, old prophecies confpire,
That Ilium fhall be burnt with Grecian fire.
Both give me fear; nor is it much allay'd,
That Venus is oblig'd our loves to aid.
For they, who loft their caufe, revenge will take;
And for one friend two enemies you make.
Nor can I doubt, but, fhould I follow you,
The fword would foon our fatal crime purfue.
A wrong fo great my husband's
's rage would rouze,
And my relations would his caufe espouse.
You boast your strength and courage; but, alas!
Your words receive finall credit from your face.
Let heroes in the dufty field delight,
Thofe limbs were fashion'd for another fight.
Bid Hector fally from the walls of Troy;
A fweeter quarrel fhould your arms employ.
Yet fears like these fhould not my mind perplex,
Were I as wife as many of my sex.
But time and you may bolder thoughts inspire;
And I perhaps may yield to your defire.
You laft demand a private conference;
These are your words, but I can guess your sense,
Your unripe hopes their harvest must attend:
Be rul'd by me, and time may be your friend.
This is enough to let you understand;
For now my pen has tir'd my tender hand :
My woman knows the secret of my heart,
And may hereafter better news impart.
Eneas, the fon of Venus and Anchifes, having, at the deftruction of Troy, faved his Gods, his father, and fon Afcanius, from the fire, put to fea with twenty fail of fhips; and, having been long toft with tempefts, was at laft cast upon the shore of Libya, where queen Dido (flying from the cruelty of Pygmalion her brother, who had killed her husband Sichaus) had lately built Carthage. She entertained Æneas and his fleet with great civility, fell paffionately in love with him, and in the end denied him not the last favours. But Mercury admonishing Eneas to go in fearch of Italy, (a kingdom promised him by the Gods) be readily prepared to obey him. Dido foon perceived it, and having in vain tried all other means to engage him to fay, at laft in defpair writes to him as follows.
So, on Mæander's banks, when death is nigh,
The mournful fwan fings her own elegy.
Not that I hope (for, oh, that hope were vain!)
By words your lost affection to regain :
But, having loft whate'er was worth my care,
Why should I fear to lofe a dying prayer?
'Tis then refolv'd poor Dido must be left,
Of life, of honour, and of love bereft !
While you, with loofen'd fails and vows, prepare
To feek a land that flies the fearcher's care.
Nor can my rifing towers your flight restrain,
Nor my new empire, offer'd you in vain.
Built walls you fhun, unbuilt you seek; that land
Is yet to conquer; but you this command.
Suppose you landed where your wish design'd,
Think what reception foreigners would find.
What people is so void of common fense,
To vote fucceffion from a native prince?
Yet there new fceptres and new loves you feek ;
New vows to plight, and plighted vows to break.
When will your towers the height of Carthage know?
Or when your eyes difcern fuch crowds below?
If fuch a town and fubjects you could fee,
Still would you want a wife who lov'd like me.
For, oh, I burn, like fires with incense bright :
Not holy tapers flame with purer light:
neas is my thoughts' perpetual theme;
Their daily longing, and their nightly dream.
Yet he 's ungrateful and obdurate ftill:
Fool that I am to place my heart so ill!
Myself I cannot to myself restore;
Still I complain, and still I love him more.
Have pity, Cupid, on my bleeding heart,
And pierce thy brother's with an equal dart.
I rave: nor canft thou Venus' offspring be,
Love's mother could not bear a fon like thee.
From harden'd oak, or from a rock's cold womb,
At least thou art from fome fierce tigrefs come;
Or on rough feas, from their foundation torn,
Got by the winds, and in a tempest born :
Like that which now thy trembling failors fear;
Like that whose rage should still detain thee here.
Behold how high the foamy billows ride!
The winds and waves are on the jufter fide.
To winter weather and a stormy fea
I'll owe, what rather I would owe to thee.
Death thou deferv'ft from heaven's avenging laws;
But I'm unwilling to become the cause.
To shun my love, if thou wilt seek thy fate,
'Tis a dear purchase, and a coftly hate.
Stay but a little, till the tempeft cease,
And the loud winds are lull'd into a peace.
May all thy rage, like theirs, unconstant prove!
And fo it will, if there be power in love.
Know'st thou not yet what dangers ships fuftain ?
So often wreck'd, how dar'st thou tempt the main ?
Which were it smooth, were every wave asleep,
Ten thousand forms of death are in the deep.
In that abyss the Gods their vengeance store,
For broken vows of those who faliely swore.
There winged forms on fea-born Venus wait,
To vindicate the justice of her state.
Thus I to thee the means of fafety show.
And, loft myself, would ftill preferve my
Falfe as thou art, I not thy death design :
O rather live, to be the cause of mine!
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