Unhappy man, to break the pious laws
Of Nature, pleading in his children's cause!
Howe'er the doubtful fact is understood,
'Tis love of honour, and his country's good:
The consul, not the father, sheds the blood.
Behold Torquatus the same track pursue;
And next, the two devoted Decii view.
The Drusian line, Camillus loaded home
With standards well redeem'd, and foreign foes
o'ercome.

The pair you see in equal armour shine;
(Now, friends below, in close embraces join:
But when they leave the shady realms of night,
And, cloth'd in bodies, breathe your upper light)
With mortal heat each other shall pursue : [ensue!
What wars, what wounds, what slaughter, shall
From Alpine heights the father first descends;
His daughter's husband in the plain attends:
His daughter's husband arms his eastern friends.
Embrace again, my sons; be foes no more:
Nor stain your country with her children's gore.
And thou, the first, lay down thy lawl ́ss claim;
Thou, of my blood, who bear'st the Julian name.
Another comes, who shall in triumph ride,
And to the capitol his chariot guide;
From conquer'd Corinth, rich with Grecian spoils.
And yet another, fam'd for warlike toils,
On Argos shall impose the Roman laws:
And, on the Greeks, revenge the Trojan cause:
Shall drag in chains their Achillæan race;
Shall vindicate his ancestors' disgrace:
And Pallas, for her violated place.
Great Cato there, for gravity renown'd,
And conquering Cossus goes with laurels crown'd.
Who can omit the Gracchi, who declare
The Scipios' worth, those thunderbolts of war,
The double bane of Carthage? Who can see,
Without esteem for virtuous poverty,
Severe Fabricius, or can cease t' admire
The ploughman consul in his coarse attire!
Tir'd as I am, my praise the Fabii claim;
And thou, great hero, greatest of thy name,
Ordain'd in war to save the sinking state,
And, by delays, to put a stop to fate!
Let others better mould the running mass
Of medals, and inform the breathing brass;
And soften into flesh a marble face:
Plead better at the bar; describe the skies,
And when the stars descend, and when they rise.
But, Rome, 'tis thine alone, with awful sway,
To rule mankind, and make the world obey,
Disposing peace, and war, thy own majestic way.
To tame the proud, the fetter'd slave to free;
These are imperial arts, and worthy thee."

He paus'd and while with wondering eyes they view'd

The passing spirits, thus his speech renew'd : "See great Marcellus! how, untir'd in toils, He moves with manly grace, how rich with regal

spoils!

He, when his country (threaten'd with alarms) ́
Requires his courage, and his conquering arms,
Shall more than once the Punic bands affright:
Shall kill the Gaulish king in single fight:
Then to the capitol in triumph move,
And the third spoils shall grace Feretrian Jove."
Eneas, here, beheld of form divine

A godlike youth, in glittering armour shine;
With great Marcellus keeping equal pace;
But gloomy were his eyes, dejected was his face :

[side?

He saw, and, wondering, ask'd his airy guide,
What, and of whence was he, who press'd the hero's
His son, or one of his illustrious name,
How like the former, and almost the same!
Observe the crowds that compass him around:
All gaze, and all admire, and raise a shouting
sound:

But hovering mists around his brows are spread,
And night, with sable shades, involves his head.
"Seek not to know," the ghost reply'd with tears,
"The sorrows of thy sons in future years.
This youth (the blissful vision of a day)
Shall just be shown on Earth, and snatch'd away.
The gods too high had rais'd the Roman state;
Were but their gifts as permanent as great.
What groans of men shall fill the Martian field!
How fierce a blaze his flaming pile shall yield!
What funeral pomp shall floating Tiber see,
When, rising from his bed, he views the sad so-
lemnity!

No youth shall equal hopes of glory give:
No youth afford so great a cause to grieve.
The Trojan honour, and the Roman boast;
Admir'd when living, and ador'd when lost!
Mirror of ancient faith in early youth!
Undaunted worth, inviolable truth!
No foe unpunish'd in the fighting field,
Shall dare thee foot to foot, with sword and shield:
Much less, in arms oppose thy matchless force,
When the sharp spurs shall urge thy foaming horse.
Ah, couldst thou break through fate's severe decree,
A new Marcellus shall arise in thee!
Full canisters of fragrant lilies bring,
Mix'd with the purple roses of the spring:
Let me with funeral flowers his body strów,
This gift which parents to their children owe,
This unavailing gift, at least I may bestow!"
This having said, he led the hero round
The confines of the blest Elysian ground,
Which, when Anchises to his son had shown,
And fir'd his mind to mount the promis'd throne,
He tells the future wars ordain'd by fate;
The strength and customs of the Latian state:
The prince, and people: and fore-arms his care
With rules, to push his fortune, or to bear.
Two gates the silent house of sleep adorn;
Of polish'd ivory this, that of transparent horn ;
True visions through transparent horn arise
Through polish'd ivory pass deluding lics.
Of various things discoursing as he pass'd,
Anchises hither bends his steps at last.
Then, through the gate of ivory, he dismiss'd
His valiant offspring, and divining guest.
Straight to the ships Eneas took his way;
Embark'd his men, and skimm'd along the sea:
Still coasting, till he gain'd Cajeta's bay.
At length on oozy ground his gallies moor:
Their heads are turn'd to sea, their sterns to shore.

THE SEVENTH BOOK OP THE NEIS.

THE ARGUMENT.

KING Latinus entertains Æneas, and promises him his only daughter, Lavinia, the heiress of his

AND thou, O matron of immortal fame!
Here dying, to the shore hast left thy name;
Cajeta still the place is called from thee,
The nurse of great Æneas' infancy.

Here rest thy bones in rich Hesperia's plains,
Thy name ('tis all a ghost can have) remains.

Now, when the prince her funeral rites had paid,
He plough'd the Tyrrhene seas with sails display'd.
From land a gentle breeze arose by night,
Serenely shone the stars, the Moon was bright,
And the sea trembled with her silver light.
Now near the shelves of Circe's shores they run,
(Circe the rich, the daughter of the Sun)
A dangerous coast: the goddess wastes her days
In joyous songs, the rocks resound her lays:
In spinning, or the loom, she spends the night,
And cedar brands supply her father's light.
From hence were heard (rebellowing to the main)
The roars of lions that refuse the chain,
The grunts of bristled boars; and groans of bears,
And herds of howling wolves, that stun the sailors'

ears.

These from their caverns, at the close of night,
Fill the sad isle with horrour and affright.
Darkling they mourn their fate, whom Circe's power
(That watch'd the Moon, and planetary hour)
With words and wicked herbs, from human kind
Had alter'd, and in wicked shapes confin'd.
Which monsters, lest the Trojan pious host
Should bear or touch upon th' enchanted coast:
Propitious Neptune steer'd their course by night,
With rising gales, that sped their happy flight.
Supply'd with these, they skim the sounding shore,
And hear the swelling surges vainly roar.
Now when the rosy Morn began to rise,
And weav'd her saffron streamer through the skies;
When Thetis blush'd in purple, not her own,
And from her face the breathing winds are blown,
A sudden silence sat upon the sea,
And sweeping oars, with struggling, urge their way.
The Trojan, from the main, beheld a wood,
Which thick with shades and a brown horrour stood:
Betwixt the trees the Tiber took his course,
With whirlpools dimpled; and with downward force
That drove the sand along, he took his way,
And roll'd his yellow billows to the sea.
About him, and above, and round the wood,
The birds that haunt the borders of his flood;
That bath'd within, or bask'd upon his side,
To tuneful songs their narrow throats apply'd,
The captain gives command; the joyful train
Glide thro' the gloomy shade, and leave the main.
Now, Erato, thy poet's mind inspire,
And fill his soul with thy celestial fire.
Relate what Latium was: her ancient kings:
Declare the past, and present state of things:
When first the Trojan fleet Ausonia sought;
And how the rivals lov'd, and how they fought,
These are my theme, and how the war began,
And how concluded by the godlike man.

In fighting fields pursu'd and found their fate:
That rous'd the Tyrrhene realm with loud alarms,
And peaceful Italy involv'd in arms.
A larger scene of action is display'd,
And, rising hence, a greater work is weigh'd.
Latinus, old and mild, had long possess'd
The Latian sceptre, and his people bless'd:
His father Faunus; a Laurentian dame
His mother, fair Marica was her name.
But Faunus came from Picus, Picus drew
His birth from Saturn, if records be true.
Thus king Latinus, in the third degree,
Had Saturn author of his family.
But this old peaceful prince, as Heaven decreed,
Was bless'd with no male issue to succeed:
His sons in blooming youth were snatch'd by fate:
One only daughter heir'd the royal state.
Fir'd with her love, and with ambition led,
The neighbouring princes court her nuptial bed.
Among the crowd, but far above the rest,'
Young Turnus to the beauteous maid address'd.
Turnus, for high descent and graceful mien,
Was first, and favour'd by the Latian queen:
With him she strove to join Lavinia's hand;
But dire portents the purpos'd match withstand.

Deep in the palace, of long growth, there stood
A laurel's trunk, a venerable wood;
Where rites divine were paid; whose holy hair
Was kept, and cut with superstitious care.
This plant Latinus, when his town he wall'd,
Then found, and from the tree Laurentum call'd:
And last, in honour of his new abode,
He vow'd the laurel to the laurel's god.
It happen'd once (a boding prodigy)
A swarm of bees that cut the liquid sky,
Unknown from whence they took their airy flight,
Upon the topmast branch in clouds alight:
There, with their clasping feet together clung,
And a long cluster from the laurel hung.
An ancient augur prophesy'd from hence:
"Behold on Latian shores a foreign prince!
From the same parts of Heaven bis navy stands,
To the same parts on Earth: his army lands;
The town he conquers, and the tower commands.'
Yet more,
when fair Lavinia fed the fire
Before the gods, and stood beside her sire;
Strange to relate, the flames involv'd the smoke
Of incense, from the sacred altar broke:
Caught her dishevell'd hair and rich attire;
Her crowns and jewels crackled in the fire:
From thence the fuming trail began to spread,
And lambent glories danc'd about her head.
This new portent the seer with wonder views;
Then pausing, thus his prophecy renews:
"The nymph who scatters flaming fires around
Shall shine with honour, shall herself be crown'd;
But, caus'd by her irrevocable fate,
War shall the country waste, and change the state."
Latinus, frighted with this dire ostent,
For counsel to his father Faunus went :
And sought the shades renown'd for prophecy,
Which near Albunea's sulphurous fountain lie.
To those the Latian and the Sabine land
Fly, when distress'd, and thence relief demand.
The priest on skins of offerings takes his ease;
And nightly visions in his slumber sees;

A swarm of thin aërial shapes appears,
And, fluttering round his temples, deafs his ears:
These he consults, the future fates to know,
From powers above, and from the fiends below.
Here, for the god's advice, Latinus flies,
Offering a hundred sheep for sacrifice:
Their woolly fleeces, as the rites requir'd,
He laid beneath him, and to rest retir'd.
No sooner were his eyes in slumber bound,
When, from above, a more than mortal sound
Invades his ears: and thus the vision spoke :
"Seek not, my seed, in Latian bands to yoke
Our fair Lavinia, nor the gods provoke.
A foreign son upon the shore descends,
Whose martial fame from pole to pole extends.
His race in arms, and arts of peace renown'd,
Not Latium shall contain, nor Europe bound:
'Tis theirs whate'er the Sun surveys around."
These answers, in the silent night receiv'd,
The king himself divulg'd, the land believ'd:
The fame thro' all the neighbouring nations flew,
When now the Trojan navy was in view.

Beneath a shady tree the hero spread
His table on the turf, with cakes of bread ;
And, with his chiefs, on forest fruits be fed.
They sat, and (not without the god's command)
Their homely fare dispatch'd: the hungry band
Invade their trenchers next, and soon devour,
To mend the scanty meal, their cakes of flour.
Ascanius this observ'd, and, smiling, said,

When next the rosy Morn disclos'd the day, The scouts to several parts divide their way, To learn the natives' names, their towns, explore The coast, and treadings of the crooked shore: Here Tiber flows, and here Numicus stands, Here warlike Latins hold the happy lands.

The pious chief, who sought by peaceful ways To found his empire, and his town to raise, A hundred youths from all his train selects, And to the Latian court their course directs (The spacious palace where the prince resides :) And all their heads with wreaths of olives hides. They go commission'd to require a peace; And carry presents to procure success. Thus while they speed their pace, the prince designs The new-elected seat, and draws the lines: The Trojans round the place a rampart cast, And palisades about the trenches plac'd.

Meantime the train, proceeding on their way, From far the town, and lofty towers, survey: At length approach the walls: without the gate They see the boys and Latian youth debate The martial prizes on the dusty plain: Some drive the cars, and some the coursers rein; Some bend the stubborn bough for vietory: And some with darts their active sinews try. A posting messenger dispatch'd from hence, Of this fair troop, advis'd their aged prince; That foreign men, of mighty stature, came; Uncouth their habit, and unknown their name. The king ordains their entrance, and ascends His regal seat, surrounded by his friends. The palace built by Picus, vast and proud, Supported by a hundred pillars stood ! And round encompass'd with a rising wood.

Behold the destin'd place of your abodes!
For thus Anchises prophesy'd of old,

And this our fatal place of rest foretold.
When on a foreign shore, instead of meat,

By famine fore'd, your trenchers you shall eat,
Then ease your weary Trojans will attend:
And the long labours of your voyage end.
Remember on that happy coast to build :
And with a trench enclose the fruitful field.'
This was that famine, this the fatal place,
Which ends the wandering of our exil'd race.
Then, on to morrow's dawn, your care employ
To search the land, and where the cities lie,
And what the men: but give this day to joy.
Now pour to Jove, and after Jove is blest,
Call great Anchises to the genial feast:
Crown high the goblets with a cheerful draught;
Enjoy the present hour; adjourn the future
thought."

Thus having said, the hero bound his brows
With leafy branches, then perform'd his vows:
Adoring first the genius of the place,

Then Earth, the mother of the heavenly race;
The nymphs, and native go heads yet unknown,
And Night, and all the stars that gild her sable
And ancient Cybel, and Idæan Jove; [throne:
And last his sire below, and mother queen above.

Then Heaven's high monarch thunder'd thrice aloud;

And thrice he shook aloft a golden cloud.
Soon through the joyful camp a rumour flew :
The time was come their city to renew :
Then every brow with cheerful green is crown'd,
The feasts are doubled, and the bowls go round.

Surpris'd at once with reverence and delight.
There kings receiv'd the marks of sovereign power:
In state the monarch march'd, the lictors bore
Their awful axes, and the rods before.
Here the tribunal stood, the house of prayer;
And here the sacred senators repair;
All at large tables, in long order set,

A ram their offering, and a ram their meat.
Above the portal, carv'd in cedar wood,
Plac'd in their ranks, their godlike grandsires stood.
Old Saturn, with his crooked scythe, on high;
And Italus, that led the colony:

And ancient Janus, with his double face,
And bunch of keys, the porter of the place.
There stood Sabinus, planter of the vines ;
On a short pruning-hook his head reclines:
And studiously surveys his generous wines.
Then warlike kings, who for their country fought,
And honourable wounds from battle brought.
Around the posts bung helmets, darts, and spears,
And captive chariots, axes, shields, and bars,
And broken beaks of ships, the trophies of their
Above the rest, as chief of all the band,
Was Picus plac'd, a buckler in his hand;
His other way'd a long-divining wand.
Girt in his gabin gown the hero sat:
Yet could not with his art avoid his fate.
For Circe long had lov'd the youth in vain,
Till love, refus'd, converted to disdain:
Then mixing powerful herbs, with magic art,
She chang'd his form, who could not change his
heart.

[wars.

Constrain'd him in a bird, and made him fly, With party-colour'd plumes, a chattering py♣

In this high temple, on a chair of state,
The seat of audience, old Latinus sat;
Then gave admission to the Trojan train,
And thus, with pleasing accents, he began:
"Tell me, ye Trojans, for that name you own ;
Nor is your course upon our coasts unknown;
Say what you seek, and whither were you bound?
Were you by stress of weather cast a-ground?
Such dangers of the sea are often seen,
And oft befal to miserable men.

Or come, your shipping in our ports to lay,
Spent and disabled in so long a way?

Say what you want; the Latians you shall find
Not forc'd to goodness, but by will inclin'd;
For since the time of Saturn's holy reign,
His hospitable customs we retain.

I call to mind (but time the tale has worn)
Th' Arunci told, that Dardanus, though born
On Latian plains, yet sought the Phrygian shore,
And Samothracia, Samos call'd before:
From Tuscan Coritum he claim'd his birth.
But after, when exempt from mortal earth,
From thence ascended to his kindred skies,
A god, and as a god augments their sacrifice."
He said. Ilioneus made this reply:
“O king, of Faunus' royal family!

Nor wintery winds to Latium forc'd our way,
Nor did the stars our wandering course betray.
Willing we sought your shores, and hither bound,
The port so long desir'd, at length we found.
From our sweet homes and ancient realms ex-
pell'd;

Great as the greatest that the Sun beheld.
The god began our line, who rules above,
And as our race, our king descends from Jove:
And hither are we come, by his command,
To crave admission in your happy land.
How dire a tempest, from Mycenæ pour'd,
Our plains, our temples, and our town, devour'd ;
What was the waste of war, what dire alarms,
Shook Asia's crown with European arms!
Ev'n such have heard, if any such there be,
Whose earth is bounded by the frozen sea:
And such as, born beneath the burning sky
And sultry Sun, betwixt the tropics lie.
From that dire deluge, through the watery waste,
Such length of years, such various perils past:
At last escap'd, to Latium we repair,

To beg what you, without your want, may spare ;
The common water, and the common air.
Sheds which ourselves will build, and mean abodes,
Fit to receive and serve our banish'd gods.
Nor our admission shall your realm disgrace,
Nor length of time our gratitude efface.
Besides what endless honour you shall gain,
To save and shelter Troy's unhappy train!
Now, by my sovereign, and his fate, I swear,
Renown'd for faith in peace, for force in war;
Oft our alliance other lands desir'd,
And what we seek of you, of us requir'd.
Despise not then, that in our hands we bear
These holy boughs, and sue with words of prayer.
Fate and the gods, by their supreme command,
Have doom'd our ships to seek the Latian land.
To these abodes our fleet Apollo sends;
Here Dardanus was born, and hither tends,
Where Thuscan Tiber rolls with rapid force,
And where Numicus opes his holy source.
Besides, our prince presents, with his request,
Some small remains of what his sire possess'd.

This golden charger, snatch'd 'from burning Troy,
Anchises did in sacrifice employ;

This royal robe, and this tiara, wore
Old Priam, and this golden sceptre bore
In full assemblies, and in solemn games;
These purple ves's were weav'd by Dardan dames."
Thus while he spoke, Latinus roll'd around
His eyes, and fix'd awhile upon the ground.
Intent he seem'd, and anxious in his breast;
Not by the sceptre mov'd, or kingly vest:
But pondering future things of wondrous weight:
Succession, empire, and his daughter's fate:
On these he mus'd within his thoughtful mind
And then resolv'd what Faunus had divin'd.
This was the foreign prince, by fate decreed
To share his sceptre, and Lavinia's bed.
This was the race that sure portents foreshew
To sway the world, and land and sea subdue.
At length he rais'd his cheerful head, and spoke:
"The powers," said he, "the powers we both in-
To you, and yours, and mine, propitious be, [voke,
And firm our purpose with their augury.
Have what you ask: your presents I receive;
Land where, and when you please, with ample
Partake and use my kingdom as your own; [leave;
It shall be yours, while I command the crown.
And if my wish'd alliance please your king,
Tell him he should not send the peace, but bring:
Then let him not a friend's embraces fear;
The peace is made when I behold him here.
Besides this answer, tell my royal guest,
I add to his commands my own request:
One only daughter heirs my crown and state,
Whom, not our oracles, nor Heaven, nor fate,
Nor frequent prodigies, permit to join
With any native of th' Ausonian line.
A foreign son-in-law shall come from far,
(Such is our doom) a chief renown'd in war:
Whose race shall bear aloft the Latian name,
And thro' the conquer'd world diffuse our fame.
Himself to be the man the fates require,
I firmly judge, and what I judge, desire."
He said, and then on each bestow'd a steed;
Three hundred horses, in high stables fed,
Stood ready, shining all, aud smoothly dress'd;
Of these he chose the fairest and the best,
To mount the Trojan troop; at his command,
The steeds caparison'd with purple stand:
With golden trappings, glorious to behold,
And champ, betwixt their teeth, the foaming gold.
Then to his absent guest the king decreed
A pair of coursers, born of heavenly breed:
Who from their nostrils breath'd ethereal fire;
Whom Circe stole from her celestial sire;
By substituting mares, produc'd on Earth,
Whose wombs conceiv'd a more than mortal birth.
These draw the chariot which Latinus sends;
And the rich present to the prince commends.
Sublime on stately steeds the Trojans borne,
To their expecting lord with peace return.

But jealous Juno, from Pachymus' height,
As she from Argos took her airy flight,
Beheld, with envious eyes, this hateful sight.
She saw the Trojan and his joyful train
Descend upon the shore, desert the main !
Design a town, and, with unhop'd success,
Th' embassadors return with promis'd peace.
Then, pierc'd with pain, she shook her haughty

head,

Sigh'd from her inward soul, and thus she said:

"O hated offspring of my Phrygian foes!
O fate of Troy, which Juno's fates oppose !
Could they not fall, unpity'd, on the plain,
But slain revive, and taken, 'scape again?
When execrable Troy in ashes lay,
[their way.
Through fires, and swords, and seas, they forc'd
Then vanquish'd Juno must in vain contend,
Her rage disarm'd, her empire at an end.
Breathless and tir'd, is all my fury spent,
Or does my glutted spleen at length relent?
As if 'twere little from their town to chase,
I through the seas pursued their exil'd race:
Engag'd the Heavens, oppos'd the stormy main;
But billows roar'd, and tempests rag'd in vain.
What have my Scyllas and my Syrtes done,
When these they overpass, and those they shun?
On Tiber's shores they land, secure of fate,
Triumphant o'er the storm's and Juno's hate.
Mars could in mutual blood the centaurs bathe,
And Jove himself gave way to Cynthia's wrath :
Who sent the tusky boar to Calydon:
What great offence had either people done?
But I, the consort of the thunderer,
Have wag'd a long and unsuccessful war:
With various arts and arms in vain have toil'd,
And by a mortal man at length am foil'd.
If native power prevail not, shall I doubt
To seek for needful succour from without?
If Jove and Heaven my just desires deny,
Hell shall the power of Heaven and Jove supply.
Grant that the fates have firm'd, by their decree,
The Trojan race to reign in Italy:
At least, I can defer the nuptial day,

And, with protracted wars, the peace delay:
With blood the dear alliance shall be bought;
And both the people near destruction brought.
So shall the son-in-law and father join,
With ruin, war, and waste of either line.
O fatal maid! thy marriage is endow'd
With Phrygian, Latian, and Rutilian blood!
Bellona leads thee to thy lover's hand,
Another queen brings forth another brand,
To burn with foreign fires her native land!
A second Paris, differing but in name,
Shall fire his country with a second flame."

Thus having said, she sinks beneath the ground
With furious haste, and shoots the Stygian sound;
To rouse Alecto from th' infernal seat
Of her dire sisters, and their dark retreat.
This fury, fit for her intent, she chose,
One who delights in wars, and human woes.
Ev'n Pluto hates his own mis-shapen race;
Her sister furies fly her hideous face:

So frightful are the forms the monster takes,
So fierce the hissings of her speckled snakes.
Her Juno finds, and thus inflames her spite:
"O virgin daughter of eternal night,
Give me this once thy labour, to sustain
My right, and execute my just disdain.
Let not the Trojans, with a feign'd pretence
Of proffer'd peace, delude the Latian prince:
Expel from Italy that odious name,
And let not Juno suffer in her fame.
'Tis thine to ruin realms, o'erturn a state,
Betwixt the dearest friends to raise debate,
And kindle kindred blood to mutual hate.
Thy hand o'er towns the funeral torch displays,
And forms a thousand ills ten thousand ways.
Now shake from out thy fruitful breast the seeds
Of envy, discord, and of cruel deeds:

Confound the peace establish'd, and prepare
Their souls to hatred, and their hands to war."
Smear'd as she was with black Gorgonean blood,
The fury sprang above the Stygian flood:
And on her wicker wings, sublime through night,
She to the Latian palace took her flight.
There sought the queen's apartments, stood before
The peaceful threshold, and besieg'd the door.
Restless Amata lay, her swelling breast
Fir'd with disdain for Turnus dispossest,
And the new nuptials of the Trojan guest.
From her black, bloody locks, the fury shakes
Her darling plague, the favourite of her snakes:
With her full force she threw the poisonous dart,
And fix'd it deep within Amata's heart :
That, thus envenom'd, she might kindle rage,
And sacrifice to strife her house and husband's age.
Unseen, unfelt, the fiery serpent skims
Betwixt her linen, and her naked limbs.
His baleful breath inspiring as he glides,
Now like a chain around her neck he rides;
Now like a fillet to her head repairs,
And, with her circling volumes, folds her hairs.
At first the silent venom slid with ease,
And seiz'd her cooler senses by degrees;
Then, ere th' infected mass was fir'd too far,
In plaintive accents she began the war;
And thus bespoke her husband: "Shall," she said,
"A wandering prince enjoy Lavinia's bed?
If nature plead not in a parent's heart,
Pity my tears, and pity her desert:

I know, my dearest lord, the time will come,
You would, in vain, reverse your cruel doom:
The faithless pirate soon will set to sea,
And bear the royal virgin far away!

A guest like him, a Trojan guest before,
In show of friendship, sought the Spartan shore;
And ravish'd Helen from her husband bore,
Think on a king's inviolable word;

And think on Turnus, her once-plighted lord:
To this false foreigner you give your throne,
And wrong a friend, a kinsman, and a son.
Resume your ancient care; and if the god,
Your sire, and you, resolve on foreign blood,
Know all are foreign, in a larger sense,
Not born your subjects, or deriv'd from hence.
Then if the line of Turnus you retrace,
He springs from Inachus, of Argive race."
But when she saw her reason illy spent,
And could not move him from his fix'd intent,
She flew to rage; for now the snake possess'd
Her vital parts, and poison'd all her breast;
She raves, she runs with a distracted pace,
And fills with horrid howls the public place.
And, as young striplings whip the top for sport,
On the smooth pavement of an empty court,
The wooden engine flies and whirls about,
Admir'd, with clamours, of the beardless rout;
They lash aloud, each other they provoke,
And lend their little souls at every stroke:
Thus fares the queen, and thus her fury blows
Amidst the crowds, and kindles as she goes.
Not yet content, she strains her malice more,
And adds new ills to those contriv'd before:
She flies the town, and, mixing with the throng
Of madding matrons, bears the bride along:
Wandering thro' woods and wilds, and devious ways
And with these arts the Trojan match delays.
She feign'd the rites of Bacchus! cry'd aloud,
And to the buxom god the virgin vow'd.