Then cast the Trojan image on the fire ;
And as that burns, my paflion shall expire.

The nurse moves onward, with officious care,
And all the speed her aged limbs can bear.
But furious Dido, with dark thoughts involvid,
Shook at the mighty mischief the resolv'd.
With livid spots distinguish'd was her face,
Red were her rowling eyes, and discompos’d her pace :
Ghaftly she gaz'd, with pain she drew her breath,
And nature shiver'd at approaching death.

Then swiftly to the fatal place she pass’d;
And mounts the fun’ral pile, with furious hafte.
Unsheaths the sword the Trojan left behind,
(Not for so dire an enterprize defign'd.)
But when she view'd the garments loosely spread,
Which once he wore, and saw the conscious bed,
She paus’d, and, with a sigh, the robes embrac'd;
Then on the couch her trembling body caft,
Repress’d the ready tears, and spoke her laft.
Dear pledges of my love, while heav'n so pleas’d,
Receive a soul, of mortal anguish eas’d:
My fatal course is finish'd ; and I go
A glorious name, among the ghosts below.
A lofty city by my hands is rais'd;
Pygmalion punish’d, and my lord appeas’d.
What cou'd my fortune have afforded more,
Had the false Trojan never touch'd my

shore !

Then

}

;

Then kiss'd the couch ; and must I die, she said ;
And unreveng'd ? 'tis doubly to be dead!
Yet ev’n this death with pleasure I receive ;
On any terms, 'tis better than to live.
These flames, from far, may the false Trojan view;
These boding omens his base flight pursue.
She said, and struck: deep enter'd in her side
The piercing steel, with reeking purple dy'd :
Clog'd in the wound the cruel

weapon

stands
The spouting blood came streaming on her hands.
Her fad attendants saw the deadly stroke,
And with loud cries the founding palace shook.
Distracted from the fatal fight they fled ;
And thro' the town the dismal rumour spread.
First from the frighted court, the yell began,
Redoubled thence from house to house it ran :
The groans men, with shrieks, laments, and cries
Of mixing women, mount the vaulted kies.
Not less the clamour, than if ancient Tyre,
Or the new Carthage, set by foes on fire,
The rowlin ruin, with their lov’d abodes,
Involv'd the blazing temples of their Gods.
Her filter hears, and furious with despair,
She beats her breast, and, rends her yellow hair :
And calling on Eliza's name aloud,
Runs breathless to the place, and breaks the crowd.
Was all that pomp of woe for this prepar’d,
These fires, this fun’ral pile, these altars rear'd;

of

Was

Was all this train of plots contriv’d, said she,
All only to deceive unhappy me?
Which is the worst? didit thou in death pretend
To scorn thy fifter, or delude thy friend!
Thy summon'd fifter, and thy friend had come :
One sword had sery'd us both, one common tomb.
Was I to raise the pile, the pow'rs invoke,
Not to be present at the fatal ftroke?
At once thou hast destroyed thyself and me;
Thy town, thy senate, and thy colony !
Bring water, bathe the wound; while I in death
Lay close my lips to hers, and catch the flying breath.
This said, he mounts the pile with eager haste ;
And in her arms the gaiping queen embrac'd :
Her temples chaf'd; and her own garments tore
To stanch the streaming blood, and cleanse the gore.
Thrice Dido try'd to raise her drooping head,
And fainting thrice, fell grov'ling on the bed.
Thrice op'd her heavy eyes, and saw the light,
But having found it, ficken’d at the fight ;
And clos'd her lids at lait, in endless night.
Then Juno, grieving that she should sustain
A death fo lingring, and so full of pain ;
Sent Iris down, to free her from the strife
Of lab’ring nature, and diffolve her life.
For since the dy'd, not doom'd by heav'n's decree,
Or her own crime ; but human casualty,

And

}

And rage of love, that plung'd her in despair,
The sisters had not cut the topmast hair,
Which Proserpine, and they can only know;
Nor made her sacred to the shades below.
Downward the various goddess took her flight ;
And drew a thousand colours from the light:
Then stood above the dying lover's head,
And said, I thus devote thee to the dead.
This off'ring to th' infernal Gods I bear :
Thus while she spoke, she cut the fatal hair ;
The strugling foul was loos'd, and life diffolv'd in air.

}

THE

THE STORY OF NARCISSUS,

from OVID.

Translated by Mr. ADDISON.

THU

a

HUS did the nymph in vain caress the boy,

He still was lovely, but he still was coy ;
When one fair virgin of the flighted train
Thus pray'd the Gods, provok'd by his disdain,
« Oh

may

he love like me, and love like me in

vain !”
Rhamnusia pity'd the neglected fair,
And with just vengeance answer'd to her pray’r.

There stands a fountain in a darksom wood,
Nor stain’d with falling leaves nor rising mud;
Untroubled by the breath of winds it reits,
Unfully'd by the touch of men or beasts ;
High bow’rs of hady trees above it grow,
And rising grass and chearful greens below.
Pieas’d with the form and coolness of the place,
And over-heated by the morning chace,
Narcissus on the grassy verdure lies :
But whilft within the crystal fount he tries
To quench his heat, he feels new heats arise.
For as his own bright image he survey’d,
He fell in love with the fantastic shade ;
And o'er the fair resemblance hung unmov’d,
Nor knew, fond youth! it was himself he lov’d.

The

:

}