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That erst-while issued from thy wat'ry 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 Æneas, ASCANIUS, ACHATES, and one or

two more.
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 may'st thou be,
For this so friendly aid in time of need!
Here in this bush disguised will I stand,
Whiles my Æneas spends himself in plaints,
And heaven and earth with his unrest acquaints.

Ær. You sons of care, companions of my course, Priam's misfortune follows us by sea, And Helen's

rape

doth haunt us at the heels. How many dangers have we overpast? 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. Acha. 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 cunning 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 aged sun shed forth his air, To make us live unto our former heat, And every beast the forest doth send forth, Bequeath her young ones to our scanted food. Asca. Father, I faint; good father, give me

meat. Æn. Alas! sweet boy, thou must be still awhile, 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.

Vex. See what strange arts necessity finds out; How near, my sweet Æneas, art thou driven.

Æn. 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, While I with my Achates roam abroad, To know what coast the wind hath driven us on, Or whether men or beasts inhabit it.

Acha. 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:

[ Aside. 23

VOL. 1.

Ho, young men ! saw you, as you came,
Any of all my sisters wand'ring here,
Having a quiver girded to her side,
And clothed in a spotted leopard's skin?

Æn. 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,
Nor speech bewrays ought 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 callid
On which, by tempests' fury, we are cast?
Tell us, O 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 lawns, And overtake the tusked boar in chase. But for the land whereof thou dost enquire, It is the Punick kingdom, rich and strong, Adjoining on Agenor's stately town, The kingly seat of Southern Lybia,

Whereat Sidonian Dido rules as queen.
But what are you that ask of me these things ?
Whence may you come, or whither will you go?

Æn. Of Troy am I, Æneas is my name;
Who, driv'n by war from forth my native world,
Put sails to sea to seek out Italy;
And my divine descent, from sceptr'd 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, unburthen'd of their load,
Are ballasted with billows' wat’ry weight.
But hapless I, God wot! poor and unknown,
Do trace these Lybian 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,
la sending thee unto this courteous coast:
In 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 arriv'd safe, not far from hence;
And so I leave thee to thy fortune's lot,
Wishing good luck unto thy wand'ring steps. (Exit.

Æn. Achates, 'tis my mother that is fled; I know her by the movings of her feet:

Stay, gentle Venus, fly not from thy son ;
Too cruel! why wilt thou forsake me thus?
Or in these shades deceiv'st mine eyes so oft?
Why talk we not together hand in hand,
And tell our griefs in more familiar terms?
But thou art gone, and leav'st me here alone,
To dull the air with my discoursive moan. [Ereunt.

SCENE:II. Enter IARBAS, followed by ILION EUS, CLOANTHUS,

anıl SERGESTUS. Ilio. Follow, ye Trojans ! follow this brave lord, And 'plain to him the sum of your distress. Iar. Why, what are you, or wherefore do you

sue? Ilio. Wretches of Troy, envied of the winds, That crave such favour at your honour's feet, As poor distressed misery may plead : Save, save, O save our ships from cruel fire, That do complain the wounds of thousand waves, And spare our lives, whom every spite pursues. We come not, we, to wrong your Lybian gods, Or steal your household Lares from their shrines : Our hands are not prepar'd to lawless spoil, Nor armed to offend in

any

kind;
Such force is far from our unweapon'd thoughts,
Whose fading weal, of victory forsook,
Forbids all hope to harbour near our hearts.

lar. But tell me, Trojans, Trojans if you be, Unto what fruitful quarters were ye bound, Before that Boreas buckled with

your

sails?

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