Nor armèd 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.
Iar. But tell me, Trojans, Trojans if you be,
Unto what fruitful quarters were ye bound,
Before that Boreas buckled with your sails?
Clo. There is a place, Hesperia term'd by us,
An ancient empire, famousèd for arms,
And fertile in fair Ceres' furrow'd wealth,
Which now we call Italia, of his name
That in such peace long time did rule the same.
Thither made we;
When, suddenly, gloomy Orion rose,
And led our ships into the shallow sands,
Whereas[1] the southern wind with brackish breath
Dispers'd them all amongst the wreckful rocks:
From thence a few of us escap'd to land;
The rest, we fear, are folded in the floods.
Iar. Brave men-at-arms, abandon fruitless fears,
Since Carthage knows to entertain distress.
Serg. Ay, but the barbarous sort[2] do threat our ships,
And will not let us lodge upon the sands;
In multitudes they swarm unto the shore,
And from the first earth interdict our feet.
Iar. Myself will see they shall not trouble ye:
Your men and you shall banquet in our court,
And every Trojan be as welcome here
As Jupiter to silly Baucis'[3] house.
Come in with me; I'll bring you to my queen,
Who shall confirm my words with further deeds.
Serg. Thanks, gentle lord, for such unlook'd- for grace:
Might we but once more see Æneas' face,
Then would we hope to quite[4] such friendly turns,
As shall[5] surpass the wonder of our speech.
[Exeunt.
ACT II.
Æn. Where am I now? these should be Carthage-walls.
Ach. Why stands my sweet Æneas thus amaz'd?
Æn. O my Achates, Theban Niobe,
Who for her sons' death wept out life and breath,
And, dry with grief, was turn'd into a stone,
Had not such passions in her head as I! Methinks,
That town there should be Troy, yon Ida's hill,
There Xanthus' stream, because here's Priamus;
And when I know it is not, then I die.
Ach. And in this humour is Achates too;
I cannot choose but fall upon my knees,
And kiss his hand. O, where is Hecuba?
Here she was wont to sit; but, saving air,
Is nothing here; and what is this but stone?[8]
Æn. O, yet this stone doth make Æneas weep!
And would my prayers (as Pygmalion's did)
Could give it life, that under his condùct
We might sail back to Troy, and be reveng'd
On these hard-hearted Grecians which rejoice
That nothing now is left of Priamus!
O, Priamus is left, and this is he!
Come, come aboard; pursue the hateful Greeks.
Ach. What means Æneas?
Æn. Achates, though mine eyes say this is stone,
Yet thinks my mind that this is Priamus;
And when my grievèd heart sighs and says no,
Then would it leap out to give Priam life.—
O, were I not at all, so thou mightst be!—
Achates, see, King Priam wags his hand!
He is alive; Troy is not overcome!
Ach. Thy mind, Æneas, that would have it so,
Deludes thy eye-sight; Priamus is dead.
Æn. Ah, Troy is sack'd, and Priamus is dead!
And why should poor Æneas be alive ?
Asc. Sweet father, leave to weep; this is not he,
For, were it Priam, he would smile on me.
- ↑ Whereas] i.e. Where.
- ↑ sort] i.e. rabble.
- ↑ Baucis'] Old ed. "Vausis."
- ↑ quite] i.e. requite.
- ↑ shall] Qy. "all"?
- ↑ Enter Æneas, &c.] I cannot satisfy myself about the exact location which the poet intended to give this scene (according to Virgil, it should take place within the temple of Juno). Presently a change of scene is supposed; see note 6, p. 256.
- ↑ and others] Not in old ed.
- ↑ stone] i.e. (as plainly appears from what follows) a statue,—in opposition to Virgil, who makes Æneas see, in the temple of Juno built by Dido, a picture of Priam, &c.
