Or weary sate, or wander'd with affright;
But she was lost forever to my sight.
I knew not, or reflected, till I meet

but My friends at Ceres' now deserted seat.
We met not one was wanting; only she
Deceiv'd her friends, her son, and wretched me.
What mad expressions did my tongue refuse?
Whom did I not of gods or men accuse?
This was the fatal blow, that pain'd me more
Than all I felt from ruin'd Troy before.
"Stung with my loss, and raving with despair,
Abandoning my now forgotten care,

Of counsel, comfort, and of hope bereft,
My sire, my son, my country gods, I left.
In shining armor once again I sheathe

My limbs not feeling wounds, nor fearing death.
Then headlong to the burning walls I run,
And seek the danger I was forc'd to shun.
I tread my former tracks, through night explore
Each passage, ev'ry street I cross'd before,
All things were full of horror and affright,
And dreadful e'en the silence of the night.
Then to my father's house I make repair,

With some small glimpse of hope to find her there.
Instead of her, the cruel Greeks I met :

777 The house was fill'd with foes, with flames beset.
Driv'n on the wings of winds, whole sheets of fire,
Through air transported, to the roofs aspire.
From thence to Priam's palace I resort,
And search the citadel, and desert court.
Then, unobserv'd, I pass by Juno's church:

A guard of Grecians had possess'd the porch;
There Phoenix and Ulysses watch the prey:
And thither all the wealth of Troy convey-

The spoils which they from ransack'd houses brought
And golden bowls from burning altars caught,
The tables of the gods, the purple vests,
The people's treasure, and the pomp of priests.
A rank of wretched youths, with pinion'd hands,
And captive matrons, in long order stands.
Then, with ungovern'd madness, I proclaim,
Through all the silent streets Creüsa's name :
Creüsa still I call at length she hears,

And sudden, through the shades of night, appears―
Appears, no more Creüsa, nor my wife,

But a pale spectre ; larger than the life.

Aghast, astonish'd, and struck dumb with fear,

I stood: like bristles rose my stiffen'd hair. 775 Then thus the ghost began to soothe my grief: "Nor tears, nor cries, can give the dead relief, Desist, my much-lov'd lord, t' indulge your pain. You bear no more than what the gods ordain. My fates permit me not from hence to fly ; Nor he, the great controller of the sky.

795

Long wand'ring ways for you the pow'rs decree-
On land hard labors, and a length of sea.
Then, after many painful years are past,
On Latium's happy shore you shall be cast,
Where gentle Tyber from his bed beholds
The flow'ry meadows, and the feeding folds.

There end your toils; and there your fates provide
A quiet kingdom and a royal bride :

There fortune shall the Trojan line restore;
And you for lost Creüsa weep no more.

Fear not that I shall watch with servile shame,
Th' imperious looks of some proud Grecian dame
Or, stooping to the victor's lust, disgrace
My goddess mother, or my royal race.
And now, farewell? the parent of the gods
Restrains my fleeting soul in her abodes,
I trust our common issue to your care.
She said, and gliding pass'd unseen in air.
I strove to speak: but horror tied my tongue
And thrice about her neck my arms I flung.
And thrice deceiv'd, on vain embraces hung.
Light as an empty dream at break of day,
Or as a blast of wind, she rush'd away.

Thus having pass'd the night in fruitless pain,
I to my longing friends return again—
Amaz'd th' augmented number to behold,
Of men and matrons mix'd, of young and old--
A wretched exil'd crew together brought,
With arms appointed, and with treasure fraught,
Resolv'd, and willing, under my command,
To run all hazards both of sea and land.

The Morn began, from Ida, to display

Her rosy cheeks; and Phosphor led the day;
Before the gates the Grecians took their post,
And all pretence of late relief was lost.
I yield to Fate, unwillingly retire,
And, loaded, up the hill convey my sire.

ENEIS.

BOOK III.

ARGUMENT.

Eneas proceeds in his relation: he gives an account of the fleet with 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.

WA

HEN heav'n had overturn'd the Trojan state,
And Priam's throne, by too severe a fate;
When ruin'd Troy became the Grecian's prey,
And Ilium's lofty tow'rs in ashes lay;
Warn'd by celestial omens, we retreat,
To seek in foreign lands a happier seat.
Near old Antandros, and at Ida's foot,
The timber of the sacred groves we cut,
And build our fleet-uncertain yet to find
What place the gods for our repose assign'd.
Friends daily flock; and scarce the kindly spring
Began to clothe the ground, and birds to sing,
When old Anchises summon'd all to sea :
The crew my father and the Fates obey.
With sighs and tears I leave my native shore,
And empty fields, where Ilium stood before.
My sire, my son, our less and greater gods,
All sail at once, and cleave the briny floods.

Against our coast appears a spacious land, Which once the fierce Lycurgus did command, (Thracia the name-the people bold in war

Vast are their fields, and tillage is their care)
A hospitable realm, while Fate was kind,
With Troy in friendship and religion join'd.
I land, with luckless omens; then adore
Their gods, and draw a line along the shore :
I lay the deep foundations of a wall,
And Enos, nam'd from me, the city call.
To Dionæan Venus vows are paid,
And all the pow'rs that rising labors aid;
A bull on Jove's imperial altar laid.
Not far, a rising hillock stood in view :
Sharp myrtles, on the sides, and cornels grew.
There, while I went to crop the sylvan scenes,
And shade our altar with their leafy greens,
I pull'd a plant-with horror I relate
A prodigy so strange, and full of fate-
The rooted fibres rose; and, from the wound,
Black bloody drops distill'd upon the ground.
Mute and amaz'd, my hair with terror stood,
Fear shrunk my sinews, and congeal'd my blood.
Man'd once again, another plant I try :
That other gush'd with the same sanguine die.
Then, fearing guilt for some offence unknown,
With pray'rs and vows the Dryads I atone,
With all the sisters of the woods, and most
The god of arms, who rules the Thracian coast-
That they, or he, these omens would avert,
Release our fears, and better signs impart.
Clear'd as I thought, and fully fix'd at length
To learn the cause, I tugg'd with all my strength :
I bent my knees against the ground: once more
The violated myrtle ran with gore.

Scarce dare I tell the sequel: from the womb
Of wounded earth, and caverns of the tomb,

A groan, as of a troubled ghost, renew'd

My fright, and then these dreadful words ensu'd :
Why dost thou thus my bury'd body rend?
O spare the corpse of thy unhappy friend!
Spare to pollute thy pious hands with blood :
The tears distil not from the wounded wood;
But ev'ry drop this living tree contains,
Is kindred blood, and ran in Trojan veins.
O! fly from this unhospitable shore,
Warn'd by my fate, for I am Polydore !
Here loads of lances, in my blood embru'd,
Again shoot upward, by my blood renew'd."

My faltering tongue and shivering limbs declare

My horror; and in bristles rose my hair.
When Troy with Grecian arms was closely pent,
Old Priam, fearful of the war's event,
This hapless Polydore to Thracia sent:
Loaded with gold, he sent his darling, far
From noise and tumults, and destructive war;
Committed to the faithless tyrant's care;
Who, when he saw the pow'r of Troy decline,
Forsook the weaker, with the strong to join-
Broke ev'ry bond of nature and of truth,
And murder'd, for his wealth, the royal youth.
O sacred hunger of pernicious gold!
What bands of faith can impious lucre hold?
Now, when my soul had shaken off her fears,
I call my father, and the Trojan peers-
Relate the prodigies of heav'n-require
What he commands, and their advice desire.
All vote to leave that execrable shore,
Polluted with the blood of Polydore ;
But, ere we sail, his fun'ral rites prepare,
Then, to his ghost, a tomb and altars rear.
In mournful pomp the matrons walk the round,
With baleful cypress, and blue fillets bound,
With eyes dejected, and with hair unbound.
Then bowls of tepid milk and blood we pour,
And thrice invoke the soul of Polydore.
Now, when the raging storms no longer reign,
But southern gales invite us to the main,
We launch our vessels, with a prosp'rous wind,
And leave the cities and the shores behind.

An island in the Ægæan main appears :
Neptune and watery Doris claim it theirs.
It floated once, till Phoebus fix'd the sides
To rooted earth; and now it braves the tides.
Here, borne by friendly winds, we come ashore,
With needful ease our weary limbs restore,
And the Sun's temple, and his town adore.

Anius, the priest and king, with laurel crown'd,
His hoary locks with purple fillets bound,
Who saw my sire the Delian shore ascend,
Came forth with eager haste to meet his friend;
Invites him to his palace; and, in sign

Of ancient love, their plighted hands they join.
Then to the temple of the god I went,
And thus before the shrine, my vows present:
Give, O Thymbræus ! give a resting place
To the sad relics of the Trojan race-