Page:Virgil's Pastorals, Georgics and Aeneis - Dryden (1709) - volume 2.djvu/227

$\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,}$Green Altars rais'd of Turf, with Gifts she Crown'd;
And sacred Priests in order stand around; 391
And thrice the Name of hapless Hector sound.
The Grove it self resembles Ida's Wood;
And Simois seem'd the well dissembl'd Flood.
But when, at nearer distance, she beheld 395
My shining Armour, and my Trojan Shield;
Astonish'd at the sight, the vital Heat
Forsakes her Limbs, her Veins no longer beat:
She faints, she falls, and scarce recov'ring strength,
Thus, with a falt'ring Tongue, she speaks at length.
Are you alive, O Goddess born! she said, 401
Or if a Ghost, then where is Hector's Shade?
At this, she cast a loud and frightful Cry:
With broken words, I made this brief Reply.
All of me that remains, appears in sight, 405
I live; if living be to loath the Light.
No Phantome; but I drag a wretched life;
My Fate resembling that of Hector's Wife.
What have you suffer'd since you lost your Lord,
By what strange blessing are you now restor'd! 410
Still are you Hector's, or is Hector fled,
And his Remembrance lost in Pyrrhus Bed?
With Eyes dejected, in a lowly tone,
After a modest pause, she thus begun.
Oh only happy Maid of Priam's Race, 415
Whom Death deliver'd from the Foes embrace!