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Ere he could raise his town, and fix the Gods
He brought from Troy in Italy's abodes;
Hence our fam'd Latian line, and fenates come,
Hence rose the lofty walls and towers of Rome.

Say, Muse, what causes could so far incense
Celestial powers, and what the dire offence
That mov'd heaven's awful empress to impose,
On such a pious prince, such endleis woes ?
By such a round of toils so long difrest :
Can rage fo fierce inflame an heavenly breast?

Against th' Italian coast, of ancient fame
A city stood, and Carthage was the name :
A Tyrian colony; from Tyber far,
Rieh, brave, and practis'd in the arts of war :
Which Juno far above all realms, above
Her own dear Samos, honour'd with her love :
Here stood her chariot, here her armour lay,
Here she design'd, would destiny give way,
Ev’n then the seat of universal (way.
But of a race Me heard, that thould destroy
The Tyrian towers, a race deriv'd from Troy ;
Who proud in arms, triumphant by their swords,
Should rise in time, the world's victorious lords;
Ordain’d by fate her Libya to subdue,
And on her ruinod empire raise a new.
This fear'd the goddess; and in mind the bore
The late long war her fury rais'd before
For Greece at Troy;. nor was her wrath resign'd,
But every cause hung heavy on her mind.


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Her injur'd form, and Paris' judgment roll
Deep in her breast, and kindle all her soul :
Th’immortal honours of the ravish'd boy;
And, last, the whole detelted race of Troy.
With all these motives fir’d, from Latium far
She drove the relicks of the Grecian war;
Fate urg'd their course ; and long they wander'd o'er
The boundless ocean, tost from shore to shore :
So vast the work to build so vast a frame,
And raise the glories of the Roman name.

Scarce from Sicilia's Mores the shouting train Spread their broad fails, and plow'd the foamy main; When haughty Juno thus her rage expreft ; Th'eternal wound still rankling in her breast.

Then must I stop? are all my labours vain ? And must this Trojan prince in Latium reign ? The Fates, I find, may baffle Juno's aims ; And why could Pallas, with avenging flames, Burn a whole navy of the Grecian fhips, And plunge the scatter'd Argives in the deeps ? She, for the crime of Ajax, from above Launch'd through the clouds the fiery bolts of Jove; Disperst his fleet, and as her tempest fiew, Expos'd the ocean's inmost deeps to view. Then, while transfix'd the blasted wretch expires, Flames from his breast, and fires succeeding fires, Snatch'd in a whirlwind, with a sudden shock She hurl'd him headlong on a painted rock. But I, who move supreme in heaven's abodes, Jove's sister-wife, and empress of the Gods,


With this one nation must a war maintain
So many years; and wage that war in vain.
And now what suppliants will invoke my name,
Adore my power, or bid my altars Aame ?

Thus fir’d with rage the furious Goddess flies
To dark Æolia from the distant skies;
The native region of the storms she finds,
Where in huge gloomy caves their tyrant binds
The blustering tempefts, and reluctant winds ;
Whose rage imperial Æolus restrains,
With rocky dungeons, and with heaps of chains :
While they, within the spacious hollow pent,
Roar round the cave, and struggle for a vent.
From his high throne, their fury to asswage,
He waves his sceptre, and controls their rage :
Or, down the void their rapid whirls had driven
Earth, air, and ocean, and the heights of heaven.
But Jove, the mighty ruin to prevent,
In gloomy caves the airy captives pent,
O’er their wild rage the ponderous rocks he spread,
And hurl'd huge heaps of mountains on their head;
And gave a king commission'd to restrain,
And curb the tempest, or to loose the rein.

Whom thus the queen address’d; Since mighty Jove
The king of men, and fire of Gods above,
Has given thee, Æolus, the power to raise
Storms at thy sovereign will, or smooth the feas;
A race, I long have labour'd to destroy,
Waft to Hesperia the remains of Troy.


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By you

Ev'n now their navy cuts the Thuscan floods,
Charg'd with their exiles, and their vanquish'd Gods.
Add rage to all thy winds; o'erwhelm their ships,
Disperse or drown the wetches in the deeps.
Twice feven bright nymphs of beauteous shape are

For thy reward the fairest I 'll resign,
And make the charming Deiopeia thine ,
She, on thy bed, long blessings shall confer,
And make thee parent of a race like her.

'Tis yours, great queen, reply'd the power, to lay The task, and mine to listen and obey;

I fit a guest with Gods above,
And share the graces and the smiles of Jove.
These realms by you, this sceptre I maintain,
And wear these honours of the stormy reign.

So spoke th' obsequious God, and while he fpoke,
Whirl'd his vast spear, and pierc'd the hollow rock,
Th’embattled tempests, as the mountain rent,
Flew all at once impetuous through the vent.
Earth in their course with giddy whirls they sweep,
Then plow the feas, and bare the inmost deep.
South, East, and West, to swell the tumult, roar,
And roll vast billows to the distant Thore.
The cordage cracks; with unavailing cries
The Trojans mourn, with fudden clouds arife,
And ravish from their fight the splendors of the skies.
Night hovers o'er the deeps ; the day retires;
The heavens shine thick with momentary fires ;


Loud thunders shake the poles ; from every place
Grim death appear’d, and glar'd in every

Congeal'd with fear, the Trojan hero ftands,

and spreads to heaven his lifted hands : Thrice happy those, whose fate it was to fall, (Exclaims the chief) beneath the Trojan wall. Oh! 'twas a noble fate to die in fight, To die fo bravely in their parents fight. Wliy funk I not beneath Tydides' hands, The bravest hero of the Grecian bands? Where Hector funk beneath Achilles' spear, And great Sarpedon the renown'd in war; Where Simois' streams, encumber'd with the flain, Roll'd shields, and helms, and heroes, to the main.

Thus while he mourns, the northern blast prevails, Breaks all his oars, and rends his flying fails : The prow turns round; the galley leaves her side Bare to the fury of the working tide ; While in huge heaps the gathering surges rise, And lift a liquid mountain to the skies. Some hang on waves ; and some behold the ground Low in the boiling deeps, and dark profound. Three shatter'd galleys the strong southern blast On hidden rocks, with dreadful fury, cast; Th’Italians call them altars ; for they stood Sublime, and heay'd their backs above the flood. Three more fierce Eurus on the Syrtes threw From the main fea; and (terrible to view) He dash'd, and left the vessels on the land, Intrench’d with mountains of surrounding fand.


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