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Begs leave through black Avernus to retire;
And view the much-lov'd manes of his fire.
Straight the divining virgin rais'd her eyes;
And, foaming with a holy rage, replies:

O thou, whose worth thy wondrous works proclaim;
The flames, thy piety; the world, thy fame;
Though great be thy request, yet fhalt thou fee
Th' Elyfian fields, th' infernal monarchy;
Thy parent's fhade: this arm thy fteps fhall guide:
To fuppliant virtue nothing is deny'd.

She spoke, and pointing to the golden bough,
Which in th' Avernian grove refulgent grew,
Seize that, the bids: he liftens to the maid;"
Then views the mournful manfions of the dead;
The shade of great Anchises, and the place
By Fates determin'd to the Trojan race.
As back to upper light the hero came,

He thus falutes the vifionary dame :
Q, whether fome propitious deity,
Or lov'd by those bright rulers of the sky!
With grateful incenfe I fhall ftile you one,
And deem no godhead greater than your own.
'Twas you restur'd me from the realms of night,
And gave me to behold the fields of light:

To feel the breezes of congenial air;

And nature's bleft benevolence to share.



I am no deity, reply'd the Dame,

But mortal; and religious rites disclaiın.
Yet had avoided Death's tyrannic sway,
Had I confented to the God of Day.
With promises he fought my love, and faid,
Have all you wish, my fair Cumæan maid.
paus'd; then, pointing to a heap of fand,
For every grain, to live a year, demand.
But ah! unmindful of th' effect of time,
Forgot to covenant for youth, and prime.
The fmiling bloom, I boasted once, is gone,
And feeble age with lagging limbs creeps on.
Seven centuries have I liv'd; three more fulfil
The period of the years to finish still.

Who 'll think, that Phoebus, dreft in youth divine,
Had once believ'd his luftre lefs than mine?

This wither'd frame (fo Fates have will'd) fhall waste
To nothing, but prophetic words, at last.

The Sibyl mounting now from nether skies,
And the fam'd Ilian prince, at Cuma rife.
He fail'd, and near the place to anchor came,
Since call'd Cajeta, from his nurfe's name.
Here did the luck lefs Macareus, a friend
To wife Ulyffes, his long labours end.
Here, wandering, Achæmenides he meets,
And fudden thus his late affociate greets.
Whence came you here, Ofriend, and whither bound?
All gave you loft on far Cyclopean ground ;

A Greek 's at last aboard a Trojan found.





Thus Achæmenides-With thanks I name
Eneas, and his piety proclaim.

I 'fcap'd the Cyclops through the Hero's aid,
Elfe in his maw my mangled limbs had laid.
When first your navy under fail he found,
He rav'd, till Ætna labour'd with the found.
Raging, he stalk'd along the mountain's fide,
And vented clouds of breath at every stride.
His ftaff a mountain ash; and in the clouds
Oft', as he walks, his grifly front he fhrowds.
Eyelefs he grop'd about with vengeful hafte,
And juftled promontories, as he pass'd.
Then heav'd a rock's high summit to the main,
And bellow'd, like fome bursting hurricane :
Oh! could I feize Ulyffes in his flight,
"How unlamented were my lofs of fight !

Thefe jaws fhould piece-meal tear each panting vein,
* Grind every crackling bone, and pound his brain.
As thus he rav'd, my joints with horror shook;
The tide of blood my chilling heart forfook.
I faw him once difgorge huge morfels, raw,
Of wretches undigested in his maw.

From the pale breathless trunks whole limbs he tore, His beard all clotted with o'erflowing gore.

My anxious hours I pafs'd in caves; my food

Was forelt fruits, and wildings of the wood.


At length a fail I wafted, and aboard

My fortune found an hospitable lord.

Now, in return, your own adventures tell, And what, fince firft you put to fea, befel.



Then Macareus-There reign'd a prince of fame O'er Tufcan feas, and Eolus his name.

A largefs to Ulyffes he confign'd,

And in a fteer's tough hide inclos'd a wind.
Nine days before the fwelling gale we ran ;
The tenth, to make the meeting land, began:
When now the merry mariners, to find
Imagin'd wealth within, the bag unbind.
Forthwith out-rush'd a gust, which backwards bore
Our gallies to the Læftrigonian fhore,
Whose crown Antiphates the tyrant wore.
Some few commiffion'd were with speed to treat;
We to his court repair, his guards we meet.
Two friendly flight preferv'd; the third was doom'd,
To be by thofe curs'd cannibals confum'd.
Inhumanly our hapless friends they treat;
Our men they murder, and deftroy our fleet.
In time the wife Ulyffes bore away,
And dropp'd his anchor in yon faithlefs bay.
The thoughts of perils paft we fiill retain,
And fear to land, till lots appoint the men.




Polites true, Elpenor given to wine,
Eurylochus, myself, the lots affign.
Design'd for dangers, and refolv'd to dare,
To Circe's fatal palace we repair.



Before the fpacious front, a herd we find
Of beafts, the fierceft of the savage kind.
Our trembling fteps with blandifhments they meet,
And fawn, unlike their fpecies, at our feet.
Within upon a fumptuous throne of state,
On golden columns rais'd, th' Enchantress fate.
Rich was her robe, and amiable her mien,
Her afpect awful, and she look'd a queen.
Her maids not mind the loom, nor houfhold care,
Nor wage in needle-work a Scythian war;
But cull in canisters difaftrous flowers,

And plants from haunted heaths, and fairy bowers,
With brazen fickles reap'd at planetary hours.
Each dofe the Goddess weighs with watchful eye;
So nice her art in impious pharmacy!

Entering the greets us with a gracious look,
And airs, that future amity befpoke.

Her ready Nymphs serve up a rich repast ;
The bowl fhe dashes first, then gives to taste,
Quick, to our own undoing, we comply;
Her power we prove, and fhew the forcery.



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