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When winds and every warring element

Disturbed our course, and, far from sight of land,
Cast our torn vessels on the moving sand :

The sea came on; the south with mighty roar,
Dispersed, and dashed the rest upon the rocky shore.
Those few you see escaped the storm, and fear,
Unless you interpose, a shipwreck here;

What men! what monsters! what inhuman race !
What laws! what barbarous customs of the place!
Shut up a desert shore to drowning men,
And drive us to the cruel seas again.

If our hard fortune no compassion draws,
Nor hospitable rites, nor human laws,
The gods are just, and will avenge our cause.
Æneas was our prince; a juster lord,
Or nobler warrior, never drew a sword;
Observant of the right, religious of his word.
If yet he lives, and draws this vital air,
Nor we, his friends, of safety shall despair;
Nor you, great Queen, these offices repent,
Which he will equal, and perhaps augment.
We want not cities, nor Sicilian coasts,
Where King Acestes Trojan lineage boasts;
Permit our ships a shelter on your shores,
Refitted from your woods with planks and oars;
That if our prince be safe, we may renew
Our destined course, and Italy pursue.
But if, O best of men, the fates ordain

That thou art swallowed in the Libyan main :
And if our young Iulus be no more,

Dismiss our navy from your friendly shore,
That we to good Acestes may return,

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And with our friends our common losses mourn
Thus spoke Ilioneus; the Trojan crew
With cries and clamours his request renew.
The modest Queen awhile, with downcast eyes,
Pondered the speech, then briefly thus replies:
Trojans, dismiss your fears my cruel fate,
And doubts attending an unsettled state,
Force me to guard my coast from foreign foes;
Who has not heard the story of your woes?
The name and fortune of your native place?
The fame and valour of the Phrygian race?
We Tyrians are not so devoid of sense,
Nor so remote from Phoebus' influence.
Whether to Latian shores your course is bent,

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Or driven by tempests from your first intent,
You seek the good Acestes' government;
Your men shall be received, your fleet repaired,
And sail, with ships of convoy for your guard:
Or would you stay and join your friendly powers
To raise and to defend the Tyrian towers;
My wealth, my city, and myself are yours.
And would to heaven the storm you felt would bring
On Carthaginian coasts your wandering king.
My people shall, by my command, explore
The ports and creeks of every winding shore;
And towns, and wilds, and shady woods, in quest
Of so renowned and so desired a guest."
Raised in his mind the Trojan hero stood,
And longed to break from out his ambient cloud;
Achates found it; and thus urged his way:
"From whence, O goddess-born, this long delay?
What more can you desire, your welcome sure,
Your fleet in safety, and your friends secure?
One only wants; and him we saw in vain
Oppose the storm, and swallowed in the main.
Orontes in his fate our forfeit paid,

The rest agrees with what your mother said."
Scarce had he spoken, when the cloud gave way,
The mists flew upward, and dissolved in day.
The Trojan chief appeared in open sight,
August in visage, and serenely bright.

His mother goddess, with her hands divine,

Had formed his curling locks, and made his temples shine; And given his rolling eyes a sparkling grace;

And breathed a youthful vigour on his face;

Like polished ivory, beauteous to behold,
Or Parian marble when enchased in gold;
Thus radiant from the circling cloud he broke,
And thus with manly modesty he spoke :

"He whom you seek am I: by tempests tossed,
And saved from shipwreck on your Libyan coast;
Presenting, gracious Queen, before your throne,
A prince that owes his life to you alone.

Fair majesty, the refuge and redress

Of those whom fate pursues and wants oppress.
You, who your pious offices employ
To save the relics of abandoned Troy ;

Receive the shipwrecked on your friendly shore,
With hospitable rites relieve the poor;
Associate in your town a wandering train,

And strangers in your palace entertain.
What thanks can wretched fugitives return,
Who scattered through the world in exile mourn?
The gods (if gods to goodness are inclined),
If acts of mercy touch their heavenly mind;
And more than all the gods, your generous heart,
Conscious of worth, requite its own desert!
In you this age is happy, and this earth;
And parents more than mortal gave you birth.
While rolling rivers into seas shall run,

And round the space of heaven the radiant sun;
While trees the mountain-tops with shades supply,
Your honour, name, and praise shall never die.
Whate'er abode my fortune has assigned,
Your image shall be present in my mind."
Thus having said, he turned with pious haste,
And joyful his expecting friends embraced :
With his right hand Ilioneus was graced,
Serestus with his left; then to his breast
Cloanthus and the noble Gyas pressed;
And so by turns descended to the rest.

The Tyrian Queen stood fixed upon his face,
Pleased with his motions, ravished with his grace;
Admired his fortunes, more admired the man;
Then recollected stood, and thus began:

"What fate, O goddess-born, what angry powers,
Have cast you shipwrecked on our barren shores?
Are you the great Æneas, known to fame,
Who from celestial seed your lineage claim?
The same Æneas who fair Venus bore
To famed Anchises on the Idean shore?
It calls into my mind, though then a child,
When Teucer came, from Salamis exiled,
And sought my father's aid to be restored :
My father Belus then with fire and sword
Invaded Cyprus, made the region bare,
And, conquering, finished the successful war.
From him the Trojan siege I understood,
The Grecian chiefs, and your illustrious blood.
Your foe himself the Dardan valour praised,
And his own ancestry from Trojans raised.
Enter, my noble guest, and you shall find,
If not a costly welcome, yet a kind.
For I myself, like you, have been distressed,
Till Heaven afforded me this place of rest;
Like you, an alien in a land unknown,

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I learn to pity woes so like my own."
She said, and to the palace led her guest,
Then offered incense and proclaimed a feast.
Nor yet less careful for her absent friends,
Twice ten fat oxen to the ships she sends ;
Besides a hundred boars, a hundred lambs,
With bleating cries, attend their milky dams;
And jars of generous wine, and spacious bowls,
She gives to cheer the sailors' drooping souls.
Now purple hangings clothe the palace walls,
And sumptuous feasts are made in splendid halls.
On Tyrian carpets, richly wrought, they dine;
With loads of massive plate the sideboards shine,
And antique vases all of gold embossed
(The gold itself inferior to the cost)

Of curious work, where on the sides were seen
The fights and figures of illustrious men,
From their first founder to the present queen.
The good Æneas, whose paternal care
Iulus' absence could no longer bear,
Despatched Achates to the ships in haste
To give a glad relation of the past;

And, fraught with precious gifts, to bring the boy
Snatched from the ruins of unhappy Troy.

A robe of tissue, stiff with golden wire;
An upper vest, once Helen's rich attire,
From Argos by the famed adultress brought,
With golden flowers and winding foliage wrought,
Her mother Leda's present, when she came
To ruin Troy and set the world on flame;
The sceptre Priam's eldest daughter bore,
Her orient necklace and the crown she wore,
Of double texture, glorious to behold,
One order set with gems, and one with gold.
Instructed thus, the wise Achates goes,
And in his diligence his duty shows.

But Venus, anxious for her son's affairs,
New counsels tries, and new designs prepares :
That Cupid should assume the shape and face
Of sweet Ascanius, and the sprightly grace;
Should bring the presents in her nephew's stead,
And in Eliza's veins the gentle poison shed;
For much she feared the Tyrians, double-tongued,
And knew the town to Juno's care belonged.
These thoughts by night her golden slumbers broke,
And thus alarmed, to winged Love she spoke :

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My son, my strength, whose mighty power alone
Controls the Thunderer on his awful throne,
To thee thy much-afflicted mother flies,
And on thy succour and thy faith relies.

Thou knowest, my son, how Jove's revengeful wife,
By force and fraud, attempts thy brother's life;
And often hast thou mourned with me his pains;
Him Dido now with blandishment detains,
But I suspect the town where Juno reigns.
For this 'tis needful to prevent her art,

And fire with love the proud Phoenician's heart;
A love so violent, so strong, so sure,

As neither age can change, nor art can cure.
How this may be performed now take my mind:
Ascanius by his father is designed

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, ravished, 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 Tryian hugs and fonds thee on her breast,
And with sweet kisses in her arms constrains,
Thou mayest 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;
Lulled 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 sate
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 heaped on high;
The attendants water for their hands supply;

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