VEN. Disquiet seas, lay down your swelling looks, And court Æneas with your calmy cheer,
Whose beauteous burden well might make you proud,
Had not the heavens, conceiv'd with hell-born clouds,
Veil'd his resplendent glory from your view:
For my sake, pity him, Oceanus,
That erst-while issu'd from thy watery loins,
And had my being from thy bubbling froth.
Triton, I know, hath fill'd his trump with Troy,
And therefore will take pity on his toil,
And call both Thetis and Cymodoce ||
To succour him in this extremity.
Enter ENEAS, ASCANIUS, ACHATES, and others.
What, do I see ¶ my son now come on shore?
Venus, how art thou compass'd with content,
The while thine eyes attract their sought-for joys!
Great Jupiter, still honour'd mayst thou be
For this so friendly aid in time of need!
Here in this bush disguisèd will I stand,
Whiles my Æneas spends himself in plaints,
That sav'd your famish'd soldiers' lives from death,
When first you set your foot upon the shore;
And here we met fair Venus, virgin-like," &c.
|| Cymodoce] Old ed. “Cimodoœ”.—I give, with the modern editors," Cymodoce," as it comes nearest the trace of the letters; and she doubtless was one of the Nereids: but, according to the passage in Virgil's Æn. (1. 144.), the name ought to be" Cymothoe."
¶ What, do I see, &c.] Perhaps this line should be pointed, "What do I see? my son now come on shore!"
And heaven and earth with his unrest acquaints.
EN. You sons of care, companions of my course, Priam's misfortune follows us by sea,
And Helen's rape doth haunt ye* at the heels.
How many dangers have we overpass'd!
Both barking Scylla, and the sounding rocks,
The Cyclops' shelves, and grim Ceraunia's seat,
Have you o'ergone, and yet remain alive.
Pluck up your hearts, since Fate still rests our friend,
And changing heavens may those good days return,
Which Pergama did vaunt in all her pride.
АCH. Brave prince of Troy, thou only art our god,
That by thy virtues free'st us from annoy†,
And mak'st our hopes survive to coming‡ joys:
Do thou but smile, and cloudy heaven will clear,
Whose night and day descendeth from thy brows.
Though we be now in extreme misery,
And rest the map of weather-beaten woe,
Yet shall the agèd sun shed forth his hair||,
To make us live unto our former heat,
And every beast the forest doth send forth
Bequeathe her young ones to our scanted food.
ye] Old ed. "thee ".-Here the modern editors print "us
on account of " us in the preceding line: but compare what immediately follows, "have we overpass'd-" Have you o'ergone."
tannoy] Qy."annoys "—for a rhyme?
coming] Old ed. "cunning." The words are very often confounded by our early printers.
his hair] i. e. his blazing tresses. Old ed. "air,"—a misprint which has occurred before; see p. 365.
Asc. Father, I faint; good father, give me meat. EN. Alas, sweet boy, thou must be still a while, Till we have fire to dress the meat we kill'd!Gentle Achates, reach the tinder-box,
That we may make a fire to warm us with,
And roast our new-found victuals on this shore.
VEN. See, what strange arts necessity finds out!
How near, my sweet Æneas, art thou driven! [Aside.
EN. Hold; take this candle, and go light a fire;
You shall have leaves and windfall boughs enow,
Near to these woods, to roast your meat withal.-
Ascanius, go and dry thy drenched limbs,
Whiles I with my Achates rove abroad,
To know what coast the wind hath driven us on,
Or whether men or beasts inhabit it.
[Exeunt ASCANIUS and others.
ACH. The air is pleasant, and the soil most fit
For cities, and society's supports;
Yet much I marvel that I cannot find
No steps of men imprinted in the earth.
VEN. Now is the time for me to play my part.—
Ho, young men ! saw you, as you came§,
Any of all my sisters wandering here,
Having a quiver girded to her side,
And clothed in a spotted leopard's skin?
EN. I neither saw nor heard of any such.
But what may I, fair virgin, call your name,
Whose looks set forth no mortal form to view,
§ came] Qy." came along "?
Nor speech bewrays aught human in thy birth?
Thou art a goddess that delud'st our eyes,
And shroud'st thy beauty in this borrow'd shape:
But whether thou the Sun's bright sister be,
Or one of chaste Diana's fellow-nymphs,
Live happy in the height of all content,
And lighten our extremes with this one boon,
As to instruct us under what good heaven
We breathe as now, and what this world is call'd
On which by tempests' fury we are cast:
Tell us, oh, tell us, that are ignorant!
And this right hand shall make thy altars crack
With mountain-heaps of milk-white sacrifice.
VEN. Such honour, stranger, do I not affect :
It is the use for Tyrian || maids to wear
Their bow and quiver in this modest sort,
And suit themselves in purple for the nonce ¶,
That they may trip more lightly o'er the lawnds*,
And overtake the tuskèd boar in chase.
But for the land whereof thou dost inquire,
It is the Punic kingdom, rich and strong,
Adjoining on Agenor's stately town,
The kingly seat of Southern Libya,
Whereas + Sidonian Dido rules as queen.
But what are you that ask of me these things?
Whence may you come, or whither will you go?
|| Tyrian] Old ed. "Turen.”
¶for the nonce] i. e. for the occasion.
lawnds] i. e. lawns.
+ Whereas] i. e. Where.
EN. Of Troy am I, Æneas is my name;
Who, driven by war from forth my native world,
Put sails to sea to seek out Italy;
And my divine descent from sceptred Jove :
With twice twelve Phrygian ships I plough'd the deep,
And made that way my mother Venus led;
But of them all scarce seven do anchor safe,
And they so wrack'd and welter'd by the waves,
As every tide tilts 'twixt their oaken sides;
And all of them, unburden'd of their load,
Are ballassèd† with billows' watery weight.
But hapless I, God wot, poor and unknown,
Do trace these Libyan deserts, all despis'd,
Exil'd forth Europe and wide Asia both,
And have not any coverture but heaven.
VEN. Fortune hath favour'd thee, whate'er thou be, In sending thee unto this courteous coast.
A' God's name, on! and haste thee to the court,
Where Dido will receive ye with her smiles;
And for thy ships, which thou supposest lost,
Not one of them hath perish'd in the storm,
But are arrived safe, not far from hence:
And so, I leave thee to thy fortune's lot,
Wishing good luck unto thy wandering steps. [Exit.
EN. Achates, 'tis my mother that is fled;
I know her by the movings of her feet.-
ballassed] i. e. ballasted.
I know her by the movings of her feet] Every reader will of course perceive that these words answer to "Et vera incessu patuit deu," in Virgil's celebrated description of Venus reas
|