My father, looking through the shades with fear,
Cried out, "Haste, haste, my son, the foes are nigh;
Their swords and shining armour I descry."
Some hostile God, for some unknown offence,
Had sure bereft my mind of better sense;
For, while through winding ways I took my flight, 1000
And sought the shelter of the gloomy night,
Alas! I lost Creüsa: hard to tell
If by her fatal destiny she fell,
Or weary sate, or wandered with affright;
But she was lost for ever to my sight.
I knew not, or reflected, till I meet
My friends, at Ceres' now deserted seat.
We met; not one was wanting: only she
Deceived 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 pained me more
Than all I felt from ruined 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 armour once again I sheath
My limbs, not feeling wounds, nor fearing death;
Then headlong to the burning walls I run,
And seek the danger I was forced to shun.
I tread my former tracks; through night explore
Each passage, every street I crossed before.
All things were full of horror and affright,
And dreadful even 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;
The house was filled with foes, with flames beset.
Driven on the wings of winds, whole sheets of fire, 1030
Through air transported, to the roofs aspire.
From thence to Priam's palace I resort,
And search the citadel and desert court.
Then, unobserved, I pass by Juno's church;
A guard of Grecians had possessed the porch:
There Phoenix and Ulysses watch the prey,
And thither all the wealth of Troy convey,
The spoils which they from ransacked 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 pinioned hands,
And captive matrons, in long order stands.
Then, with ungoverned 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, astonished, and struck dumb with fear, 1050
I stood; like bristles rose my stiffened hair.
Then thus the ghost began to soothe my grief:
"Nor tears, nor cries, can give the dead relief;
Desist, my much loved lord, to 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 Comptroller of the sky.
Long wandering ways for you the powers decree;
On land hard labours, and a length of sea.
Then, after many painful years are past,
On Latium's happy shore you shall be cast;
Where gentle Tiber from his bed beholds
The flowery 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,
The 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 passed unseen in air.
I strove to speak, but horror tied my tongue ;)
And thrice about her neck my arms I flung,
And, thrice deceived, on vain embraces hung.
Like as an empty dream at break of day,
Or as a blast of wind, she rushed away.
'Thus having passed the night in fruitless pain,
I to my longing friends return again,
Amazed the augmented number to behold
Of men and matrons mixed, of young and old;
A wretched exiled crew together brought,
With arms appointed, and with treasure fraught,
Resolved, 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.'
THE THIRD BOOK OF THE ÆNEIS
Æneas 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.
Dido discovers to her sister her passion for Æneas, and her thoughts of marrying him. She prepares a hunting-match for his entertainment. Juno, by Venus' consent, raises a storm, which separates the hunters, and drives Æneas and Dido into the same cave, where their marriage is supposed to be completed. Jupiter despatches Mercury to Æneas, to warn him from Carthage. Eneas secretly prepares for his voyage: Dido finds out his design, and, to put a stop to it, makes use of her own and her sister's entreaties, and discovers all the varieties of passions that are incident to a neglected lover. When nothing would prevail upon him, she contrives her own death, with which this book concludes.
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