Classic Poem

Aurora now, leaving her watry bedd
Coulers the east, with day presaging redd,
soone as the dawne began to fleck the skye
downe to the shoare the sadd Queene casts her eye,
wher when she doeth the empty Port survay
and now the Fleete with wings displayd att sea,
her handes upheld, her goulden Tresses torne
must wee (sayes shee) of force endue this scorne
can wee not have recourse to armes; not meete
their fraud with fraud, not burne this cursed fleete,
Hast, flye, pursue, row and let every hand
snatch up with speede, some swift revenging brand,
wher am I now, alasse what wordes are these
how late this hope; see how they plow the seas
Unhappy Dido, cruell fate, devoures
thy wretched life, thou feelst the angry powers
this rage had once been fitter then thy love
see how he does his farr Famd fayth approve,
he who through burning Illium as these say
did beare his countrys Gods untouch'd away,
who through the flames, the old Anchises led
why saw I not the perjurd vilaine dead:
why did I not on slaine Julus feast
and att the Banquet make the Father guest,
suppose there had beene doubt in the successe
what could I feare, of all left comfortlesse,
I should have ruin'd all, Father and sonne
and the whole stock and then my selfe among,
Thou Sun, which with thy light doest all survay,
and Juno wittnesse to that fatall day
which seal'd our loves, Revengefull Hecate
and all yee powers that see Eliza dye
receive these prayers; if all sea daungers past
the Phrigean needes must reach some shoare att last,
if nothing can confirme this first decree,
A peacefull land, yet may he never see,
warr entertaine him, and A haughtye foe
and may he never one calme slumber know,
hatred pursue him, furies give him chace
and rend Julus from his deare embrace
himselfe att last, without A grave, exposd
a pray to vultures, in noe urne enclosd,
I forme my latest breath into this prayer
and O yee Tirryans, bee itt then your care
to afflict with warr this race in tymes to come,
and send such bloudy offerings to my tombe,
from my cold ashes some revenger rise
whose sword, may wast the Dardan collonies;
Our seas, their seas, our shoares, their shoares oppose
Our Armes, their Armes, and bee our children foes.
heere sighing deepe, revolving in her mynde
what way she might the freest passage finde
from hated life, Bercaea standing by
nurse to Sichaeus, dearest Nurse sayes shee
goe call my sister, tell her I prepare
the Magike rites Ordayn'd to heale my care,
but be she first, with water sprinkled thrice
and with her bring th' appointed sacrifice,
and you, with pious wreaths your Temples bound
enter the Circle of the holy ground;
I'le give the Trojans Image to the fyer
as that consumes, soe shall my greefe expire,
The Aged Nurse obayes with trembling hast
and now the Queene, all boundes of sorrow past
her heart opprest, her visage wann and pale
and her whole minde bent on her funerall,
goes to the place wher stood the sacred pile
and heere (diverted by her greefe awhile)
melted in teares, as first she does behold
the Trojans Image, sword, and Roabes of gould,
deare Reliques sayes shee, whilst the powers above
weare soe content, the objects of my love,
but now my sadd reproaches, att that word,
shee mounts the Pile, and drawes the shining sword,
what tis to live, enough she sayes I know
and to the will of fate I nothing owe,
nor shall I now, A worthlesse Ghost descend
having with honour first, reveng'd my freind
since built A stately towne, happy and more
had the falce Trojan never toucht this shoare,
then lifting up her handes to strike, shall I
dye unreveng'd (she sayes) how ever dye,
forsaken thus, thus, to the shads I hast
and blot out all remembrance of that 's past.
The cruell Phrigean see this flame from farr
and in his thoughts, the fatall omen beare,
with this, the bloud came gushing from her side
deepe in her breast, the reaking sword was dyed,
her frighted servaunts in distraction runn
and with their cryes they fill th' amazed towne.
such is the noyse when the prevayling foes
enter a breach, and slaughter overflows,
her frantike sister with a furious pace
(pierst to the hart) comes running to the place,
Ah, dearest sayes she, was this fraud for me;
these Alters drest, for such a Tragedie;
why was not I envited to thy fate
not made thy partner in thy worst estate,
Ah, you have slaine, your selfe, and me, and all,
people, and nobles, in A funerall.
O give me leave; if yet you not resigne
your latest breath to suck that soule with myne,
with that she doeth the high raysd pile ascende
and weeping doeth, embrace her dying freind;
thrice on her Arme the Queene supports her head
and thrice againe falls groveling on her bead,
thrice with disclosed eyes shee seekes the light
and thrice with sighing folds againe her sight.
Then Juno looking with A pittying eye
upon soe great and lasting mysery
since deepest woundes can noe free passage give
to selfe destroyers, who refuse to live
sendes Iris downe, to cut the fatall hayre,
which done, her whole life vanisht into Aire.