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neis proceeds in his relation: he gives an account“
of the fleet with which he failed, and the fuccess of
his first voyage to Thrace; from thence he directs
his course to Delos, and asks the oracle what place
the Gods had appointed for his habitation? By a
miftake of the oracle's anfwer, he fettles in Crete::
his houshold Gods give him the true sense of the
oracle in a dream: he follows their advice, and
makes the best of his way for Italy: he is caft an
feveral shores, and meets with very furprizing adven-
till at length he lands on Sicily; where his
father Anchifes dies. This is the place he was fail-
ing from, when the tempeft rofe, and threw him
upon the Carthaginian coast..

WHEN heaven had overturn'd th' Trojan state,
And Priam's throne, by too fevere a fate :




When ruin'd Troy became the Grecians prey,
And Ilium's lofty towers in afhes lay:
Warn'd by celestial omens, we retreat,
To feek in foreign lands a happier seat.
Near old Antandros, and at Ida's foot,
The timber of the facred groves we cut ;
And build our fleet: uncertain yet to find
What place the gods for our repose affign'd.
Friends daily flock, and scarce the kindly spring
Began to cloathe the ground, and birds to fing:
When old Anchifes fummon'd all to fea :
The crew, my father and the fates obey.


With fighs and tears I leave my native shore,


And empty fields, where Ilium ftood before.

My fire, my fon, our lefs, and greater gods,
All fail at once; and cleave the briny floods.

Against our coaft appears a spacious land,
Which once the fierce Lycurgus did command:
Thracia the name; the people bold in war;
Vaft are their fields, and tillage is their care.
A hofpitable realm, while fate was kind;
With Troy in friendship and religion join'd.
I land, with lucklefs omens; then adore
Their gods, and draw a line along the shore:
I lay the deep foundations of a wall:
And Enos, nam'd from me, the city call.
To Dionæan Venus vows are paid,
And all the powers that rifing labours aid ;
A bull on Jove's imperial altar laid.

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Not far, a rifing hillock stood in view ;
Sharp myrtles, on the fides, and cornels grew.
There, while I went to crop the fylvan scenes,
And fhade our altar with their leafy greens,
I pull❜d a plant (with horror I relate
A prodigy fo ftrange, and full of fate);

The rooted fibres rofe; and from the wound,
Black bloody drops diftill'd upon the ground.
Mute, and amaz'd, my hair with terror stood;
Fear shrunk my finews, and congeal'd my blood :
Man'd once again, another plant I try,
That other gush'd with the fame fanguine dye.
Then, fearing guilt for fome offence unknown,
With prayers and vows the Dryads I atone;
With all the fifters of the woods, and most
The god of arms, who rules the Thracian coaft:
That they, or he, these omens would avert;
Release our fears, and better figns impart.
Clear'd, as I thought, and fully fix'd at length
To learn the caufe, I tugg'd with all my strength:
I bent my knees against the ground; once more
The violated myrtle ran with gore.

Scarce dare I tell the fequel: from the womb
Of wounded earth, and caverns of the tomb,

A groan as of a troubled ghost renew'd

My fright, and then these dreadful words enfued:
Why doft thou thus my bury'd body rend?
O fpare the corpfe of thy unhappy friend!
Spare to pollute thy pious hands with blood:
The tears diftil not from the wounded wood;

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But every drop this living tree contains
Is kindred blood, and ran in Trojan veins :
O fly from this unhofpitable shore,
Warn'd by my fate; for I am Polydore !
Here loads of lances, in my blood embrued,
Again fhoot upward, by my blood renew'd.
My faltering tongue and shivering limbs declare
My horror, and in briftles rofe my hair.

When Troy with Grecian arms was closely pent, 70
Old Priam, fearful of the war's event,

This hapless Polydore to Thracia sent.
Loaded with gold, he fent his darling far
From noife and tumults, and destructive war:
Committed to the faithlefs tyrant's care:
Who, when he faw the power of Troy decline,
Forfook the weaker, with the ftrong to join:
Broke every bond of nature, and of truth:
And murder'd, for his wealth, the royal youth.
O facred hunger of pernicious gold,
What bands of faith can impious lucre hold!
Now, when my foul had fhaken off her fears,
1 call my father, and the Trojan peers :
Relate the prodigies of heaven, require
What he commands, and their advice defire.
All vote to leave that execrable shore,
Polluted with the blood of Polydore.
But ere we fail, his funeral rites prepare ;
Then, to his ghost, a tomb and altars rear.






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