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Our gods, my fon, and father to the train
I next commend, and hide them in the plain;
Then fly for Troy, and shine in arms again.
Refolv'd the burning town to wander o'er,
And tempt the dangers that I fcap'd before.
Now to the gate I run with furious haste,
Whence first from Ilion to the plain I past;
Dart round my eyes in every place in vain,
And tread my former footsteps o'er again.
Surrounding horrors all my foul affright;
And more, the dreadful filence of the night.
Next to my houfe I flew without delay,
If there, if haply there she bent her way.
In vain---the conquering foes were enter'd there;
High o'er the dome, the flames emblaze the air;
Fierce to devour, the fiery tempeft flies,
Swells in the wind, and thunders to the skies.
Back to th' embattled citadel I ran,
And search'd her father's regal walls in vain.
Ulyffes now and Phoenix I furvey,
Who guard, in Juno's fane, the gather'd prey: 1025
In one huge heap the Trojan wealth was roll'd,
Refulgent robes, and bowls of maffy gold;
A pile of tables on the pavement nods,
Snatch'd from the blazing temples of the gods.
A mighty train of fhricking mothers bound,
Stood with their captive children trembling round.
Yet more---I boldly raise my voice on high,
And in the fhade on dear Creüfa cry;
Call on her name a thousand times in vain,
But still repeat the darling name again.
Thus while I rave and roll my fearching eyes,
Solemn and flow I faw her fhade arise,
The form'd enlarg'd majestic mov'd along;
Fear rais'd my hair, and horror chain'd my tongue:
Thus as I ftood amaz'd, the heav'nly fair
With these mild accents footh'd my fierce defpair.
Why with excess of forrow raves in vain
My dearest lord, at what the gods ordain?
Oh could I share thy toils !---but fate denies;
And Jove, dread Jove, the fovereign of the skies. 1045
In long, long exile, art thou doom'd to sweep
Seas after feas, and plough the watʼry deep.
Hefperia fhall be thine, where Tyber glides
Through fruitful realms, and rolls in eafy tides.
There shall thy Fates a happier lot provide,
A glorious empire, and a royal bride.
Then let your forrows for Creüfa cease;
For know, I never shall be led to Greece;
Nor feel the victor's chain, nor captive's shame,
A flave to fome imperious Argive dame.
No!---born a princefs, fprung from heav'n above,
Ally'd to Venus, and deriv'd from Jove,
Sacred from Greece, 'tis mine, in these abodes,
To ferve the glorious mother of the gods.
and to our fon thy care approve,
Our fon, the pledge of our commutual love.
Thus fhe; and as I wept, and wish'd to say
Ten thousand things, diffolv'd in air away.
Thrice round her neck my eager arms I threw ;
Thrice from my empty arms the phantom flew, 1065
Swift as the wind, with momentary flight,
Swift as a fleeting vision of the night.
Now, day approaching, to my longing train,
From ruin'd Ilion I return again;
To whom, with wonder and surprise, I find
A mighty crowd of new companions join'd;
A hoft of willing exiles round me stand,
Matrons, and men, a miserable band;
Eager the wretches pour from every fide,
To share my fortunes on the foamy tide;
Valiant, and arm'd, my conduct they implore,
To lead and fix them on some foreign shore:
And now, o'er Ida with an early ray
Flames the bright ftar, that leads the golden day.
No hopes of aid in view, and every gate
Poffeft by Greece, at length I yield to fate.
Safe o'er the hill my father I convey,
And bear the venerable load away.