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That she no ways nor means may leave untry'd,
Thus to her sister she herself apply'd :
Dear sister, my resentment had not been
So moving, if this fate I had foreseen ;
Therefore to me this last kind office do,
Thou hast some interest in our scornful foe,
He trusts to thee the counsels of his mind,
Thou his soft hours, and free access canst find :
Tell him I sent not to the Ilian coast
My fleet to aid the Greeks; his father's ghost
I never did disturb : ask him to lend
To this, the last request that I shall send,
A gentle ear; I wish that he

may

find A happy passage, and a prosperous wind, The contract I don't plead, which he betray'd, Nor that his promis’d conquest be delay'd ; All that I aik is but a fhort reprieve, Till I forget to love, and learn to grieve ; Some pause and respite only I require, Till with my tears I shall have quench'd my fire. If thy address can but obtain one day Or two, my death that service shall repay. Thus she intreats ; such messages with tears Condoling Anne to him, and from him bears : But him no prayers, no arguments can move ; The Fates refift, his ears are stopt by Jove. As when fierce northern blafts from th' Alps descend, From his firm roots with struggling gufts to rend An aged sturdy, oak, the rattling found Grows loud, with leaves and scatter'd arms the ground

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Is over-laid; yet he stands fixt, as high
As his proud head is rais'd towards the sky,
So low towards hell his roots descend. With prayers
And tears the Hero thus assail'd, great cares
He smothers in his breast, yet keeps his post,
All their addresses and their labour loft.
Then she deceives her sister with a smile :
Anne in the inner court erect a pile;
Thereon his arms and once-lov'd portrait lay,
Thither our fatal marriage-bed convey ;
All cursed monuments of him with fire
We must abolith (so the Gods require.)
She gives her credit for no worse effect
Than from Sichæus' death she did suspect,
And her commands obeys.
Aurora now had left Tithonus' bed,
And o'er the world her blushing rays did spread ;
The Queen beheld, as soon as day appear’d,
The navy under fail, the haven clear'd;
Thrice with her hand her naked breast she knocks,
And from her forehead tears her golden locks.
O Jove, the cry'd, and shall he thus delude
Me and my realın ! why is he not pursued ?
Arm, arm, she cry'd, and let our Tyrians board
With ours his feet, and carry fire and livord;
Leave nothing unattempted to destroy
That perjur'd race, then let us die with joy.
What if th’ event of war uncertain were ?
Nor death, nor danger, can the defperate fear.
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But oh too late! this thing I should have done,
When first I plac'd the traitor on my throne.
Behold the faith of him who fav'd from fire
His honour'd houshold Gods, his aged fire
His pious shoulders from Troy's flames did bear;
Why did I not his carcase piece-meal tear,
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 prayer? If he the sea
Must needs escape, and reach th' Aufonian land,
If Jove decree it, Jove's decree must stand ;
When landed, may he be with arms opprest
By his rebelling people, be distreft
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 !
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 !
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

;

May from my bones a new Achilles rise,
That shall infest the Trojano Colonies
With fire and sword, and famine, when at length
Time 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 the the fatal pile afcends ;
Viewing the Trojan reliques, 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 reliques, whilst that Gods and Fates give leave,
Free me from care, and my glad foul receive.
That date which Fortune gave, I now must end,
And to the shades a noble ghost defcend.
Sichæus' blood, by his false brother fpilt,
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.
My conscious foe my funeral fire snall view
From fea, and may that omen him pursue !
Her fainting hand let fall the sword befmear'd
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 entered, and had set on fire.

Amazed

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Did you

Amazed Anne with speed ascends the stairs,
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 ?

so much despise me, in this fate Myself with you not to associate ? Yourself and me, alas ! this fatal wound The senate, and the people, doth confound. I'll wash her wound with tears, and at her death, My lips from hers shall draw her parting breath. Then with her vest the wound the wipes and dries; Thrice with her arm the Queen attempts to rise, But her strength failing, falls into a swound, Life's last efforts yet striving with her wound ; Thrice on her bed she turns, with wandering sight Seeking, the groans when she beholds the light. 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 lock (says she) To Pluto I bequeath, and set thee free; Then clips her hair : Cold numbness straight bereaves Her corpse of sense, and th' air her soul receives.

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