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Arm, arm, the cry'd, and let our Tyrians board
With ours his Fleet, and carry Fire and Sword;
Leave nothing unattempted to destroy
That perjur'd Race, then let us die with Joy.
What if th' Event of War uncertain were?
Nor Death, nor Danger, can the Defp'rate fear.
But oh too late! This thing I should have done,
When first I plac'd the Traytor on my Throne.
Behold the Faith of him who fav'd from Fire
His honour'd Houfhold Gods, his Aged Sire
His pious Shoulders from Troy's Flames did bear;
Why did I not his Garcafs piece-meal tear,
And caft it in the Sea? why not destroy
All his Companions, and beloved Boy
Afcanius? and his tender Limbs have dreft,
And made the Father on the Son to feaft?
Thou Sun, whofe Luftre all things here below
Surveys; and Juno, confcious of my Woc;
Revengeful Furies, and Queen Hecate,
Receive and grant my Pray'r! If he the Sea
Muft needs escape, and reach th' Ausonian Land,
If Jove decree it, Jove's Decree must ftand;
When landed, may he be with Arms oppreft
By his rebelling People, be diftreft
By Exile from his Country, be divorc'd
From young Afcanius' fight, and be enforc'd'
To implore Foreign Aids, and lofe his Friends
By violent and undeferved Ends:

When to Conditions of unequal Peace
He hall submit, then may he not poffefs

Kingdom nor Life, and find his Funeral

I'th' Sands, when he before his Day fhall fall:
And ye, oh Tyrians, with immortal Hate
Purfue this Race, this Service dedicate
To my deplored Ashes; let there be
'Twixt us and them no League nor Amity.
May from my Bones a new Achilles rise,
That fhall infeft the Trojan Colonies

With Fire, and Sword, and Famine, when at length
Time to our great Attempts contributes Strength;
Our Seas, our Shores, our Armies theirs oppose,
And may our Children be for ever Foes.
A ghaftly Paleness Death's Approach portends,
Then trembling the the fatal Pile afcends;
Viewing, the Trojan Reliques, the unheath'd
Eneas' Sword, not for that Ufe bequeath'd:
Then on the guilty Bed the gently lays
Her felf, and foftly thus lamenting prays;
Dear Reliques,whilst that Gods and Fates gave leave,
Free me from Care, and my glad Soul receive.
That Date which Fortune gave, I now muft end,
And to the Shades a noble Ghoft defcend.
Sichaus' Blood, by his falfe Brother spilt,
I have reveng'd, and a proud City built;
Happy, alas! too happy I had liv'd,

Had not the Trojan on my Coaft arriv❜d.
But fhall I die without Revenge? yet die
Thus, thus with Joy to thy Sichaus-Ay.
My confcious Foe my Funeral Fire fhall view
From Sea, and may that Omen him pursue.

Her fainting Hand let fall the Sword befmear'd
With Blood, and then the mortal Wound appear'd;
Through all the Court the Fright andClamours rife,
Which the whole City fills with Fears and Cries,
As loud as if her Carthage, or old Tyre
The Foe had entred, and had fet on Fire.
Amazed Anne with Speed afcends the Stairs,
And in her Arms her dying Sifter rears:
Did you for this, your felf, and me beguile?
For fuch an End did I erect this Pile?
Did you so much despise me, in this Fate.
My felf with you not to affociate?

Your felf and me, alas! this fatal Wound,
The Senate, and the People, doth confound.
I'll wash her Wound with Tears, and at her Death,
My Lips from hers fhall draw her parting Breath.
Then with her Veft the Wound the wipes and dries;
Thrice with her Arm the Queen attempts to rife,
But her Strength failing, falls into a Swound,
Life's laft Efforts yet ftriying with her Wound;
Thrice on her Bed he turns, with wandring fight-
seeking, she groans when she beheld the Light.
Then Juno pitying her difaftrous Fate,
Sends Iris down, her Pangs to mitigate.
(Since if we fall before th' appointed Day,
Nature and Death continue long their Fray.)
Iris descends; This fatal Lock (says she).
To Pluto I bequeath, and fet thee free;
Then clips her Hair: Cold Numbnefs ftrait bereaves
Her Corps of Sense, and th' Air her Soul receives,

A

PREFACE

TO THE

Following Tranflation.

OING this laft Summer to vifit the Wells,

GI took an occafion (by the way) to wait up

on an Ancient and Honourable Friend of mine, whom I found diverting his (then folitary) Retirement with the Latin Original of this Tranflation, which (being out of Print) I had never feen before: when I looked upon it, I saw that it had formerly paffed through two Learned Hands, not without Approbation; which were Ben Johnson, and Sir Kenelme Digby; but I found it, (where 1 fhall never find my felf) in the Service of a better Mafter, the Earl of Bristol, of whom I shall Say no more; for I love not to improve the Honour of the Living, by impairing that of the Dead; and my own Profeffion hath taught me, not to erect new Superftructions upon an old Ruin. He was pleafed to recommend it to me for my Companion at the Wells, where I lik'd the Entertainment it gave me fo well, that I undertook to redeem it

from

from an obfolete English Difguife, wherein an old Monk had cloathed it, and to make as becoming a new Veft for it, as I could.

The Author was a Perfon of Quality in Italy, his Name Mancini, which Family matched face with the Sifter of Cardinal Mazarine; he was Cotemporary to Petrarch, and Mantuan, and not long before Torquato Taffo; which shews, that the Age they lived in, was not fo unlearned, as that which preceded, or that which followed.

The Author writ upon the four Cardinal Virtues ; but I have tranflated only the two first, not to turn the Kindness I intended to him into an Injury; for the two laft are little more than Repetitions and Recitals of the firft; and (to make a just Excufe for him) they could not well be otherwife fince the two laft Virtues are but Defcendants from the first; Prudence being the true Mother of Temperance, and true Fortitude the Child of Justice.

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