Page:Virgil's Pastorals, Georgics and Aeneis - Dryden (1709) - volume 2.djvu/169

His Hair and Beard stood stiffen'd with his gore;
And all the Wounds he for his Country bore,
$\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,}$Now stream'd afresh, and with new Purple ran:
I wept to see the visionary Man: 365
And while my Trance continu'd, thus began.
O Light of Trojans, and Support of Troy,
Thy Father's Champion, and thy Country's Joy!
O, long expected by thy Friends! from whence
Art thou so late return'd for our Defence? 370
Do we behold thee, weary'd as we are,
With length of Labours, and with Toils of War?
After so many Fun'rals of thy own,
Art thou restor'd to thy declining Town?
But say, what Wounds are these? What new Disgrace
Deforms the Manly Features of thy Face? 376
To this the Spectre no Reply did frame;
But answer'd to the Cause for which he came:
And, groaning from the bottom of his Breast,
This Warning, in these mournful Words express'd.
O Goddess-born! escape, by timely flight, 381
The Flames, and Horrors of this fatal Night.
The Foes already have possess'd the Wall,
Troy nods from high, and totters to her fall.
Enough is paid to Priam's Royal Name, 385
More than enough to Duty and to Fame.
If by a Mortal Hand my Father's Throne
Cou'd be defended, 'twas by mine alone: