280 



APPENDIX TO THE 



At length, ' arriving ' with great joy, 



To mighty Carthage walls was brought ; 

 Where Dido queen, with sumptuous 



feast, 

 Did entertain this wandering guest. 



And, as in hall at meat they sat, 

 The queen, desirous news to hear, 



Says, " Of thy Troy's unhappy fate, 

 Declare to me, thou Trojan dear : 



The heavy hap, and chance so bad, 



Which thou, poor wandering prince, hast 

 had." 



And then, anon, this comely knight, 

 With words demure, as he could well, 



Of ' their' unhappy ten years' 'fight,' 

 So true a tale began to tell, 



With words so sweet, and sighs so deep, 



That oft he made them all to weep. 



And then a thousand sighs he fetch'd, 

 And every sigh brought tears amain ; 



That where he sate the place was wet, 

 As he had seen those wars again ; 



So that the queen, with ruth therefore, 



Said, Worthy prince, enough, no more. 



The darksome night apace grew on, 



And twinkling stars in skies were spread ; 



And he his doleful tale had ' done,' 

 And every one was laid in bed ; 



Where they full sweetly took their rest, 



Save only Dido's boiling breast. 



This silly woman never slept, 



But in her chamber all alone, 

 As one unhappy, always wepr, 



And to the walls she made her moan ; 

 That she should stiil desire in vain 

 The thing that she could not obtain. 



And thus in grief she spent the night, 

 Till twinkling stars from sky were fled, 



And Phoebus, with his glittering ' light,' 

 Through misty clouds appeared red ; 



Then tidings came to her anon, 



That all the Trojan ships were gone. 



And then the queen, with bloody knife, 

 Did arm her heart as hard as stone, 



Yet, somewhat loth to lose her life, 

 In woeful wise she made her moan ; 



And, rolling on her careful bed, 



With sighs and sobs, these words she said : 



O wretched Dido queen ! quoth she, 

 I see thy end approacheth near ; 



For he is gone away from thee, 

 Whom thou didst love, and ' hold ' so 



Is he then gone, and passed by? [dear ; 



O heart, prepare thyself to die. 



Though Reason would thou shouldst 



forbear, 



And stay thy hand from bloody stroke : 

 Yet Fancy says thou shouldst not fear, 

 Who fettereth thee in Cupid's yoke. 

 Come, Death, quoth she, resolve my 



smart : 



And with these wcrds, she pierced her 

 heart. 



When Death had pierc'd the tender heart 

 Of Dido, Carthaginian queen ; 



And bloody knife did end the smart, 

 Which she snstain'd in woeful teen, 



^Eneas being shipp'd and gone, 



Whose flattery caused all her moan. 



Her funeral most costly made, 

 And all things furnish'd mournfully ; 



Her body fine in mould was laid, 

 Where it consumed speedily : 



Her sister's tears her tomb bestrew'd ; 



Her subjects' grief their kindness shew'd. 



Then was ^Eneas in an isle, 



In Grecia, where he liv'd long space, 

 Whereas her sister, in short while, 



Writ to him to his vile disgrace ; 

 In phrase of letters to her mind, 

 She told him plain he was unkind. 



False-hearted wretch, quoth she, thou art ; 



And treacherously thou hast betray'd 

 Unto thy lure a gentle heart, 



Which unto thee such welcome made ; 

 My sister dear, and Carthage joy, 

 Whose folly wrought her dire annoy. 



Yet, on her deathbed when she lay, 



She pray'd for thy prosperity, 

 Beseeching Heaven, that every day 



Might breed thy grvat felicity : 

 Thus, by thy means I lost a friend ; 

 Heaven send thee such untimely end ! 



When he these lines, full fraught with gall, 

 Perused had, and weigh'd them right, 



His lofty courage then did fall, 

 And straight appeared in his sight 



Queen Dido's ghost, both grim and pale ; 



Which made this gallant soldier quail. 



./Eneas, quoth this grisly ghost. 

 My whole delight while I did live, 



Thee of all men I loved most ; 

 My fancy and my will did give : 



For entertainment I thee gave, 



Unthankfully thou 'dug'st' my grave. 



Therefore prepare thy fleeting soul 

 To wander with me in the air ; 



Where deadly grief shall make it howl, 

 Because of me thou took'st no care : 



Delay no time, thy glass is run, 



Thy day is pass'd, thy death is come. 



O stay a while, thou lovely sprite ; 



Be not so hasty to convey 

 My soul into eternal night, 



Where it shall ne'er beho'd bright day. 

 O do not frown, thy angry look 

 Hath 'ail my soul with horror shook.' 



But, woe to me ! it is in vain, 

 And bootless is my dismal cry ; 



Time will not be recall'd again, 

 Nor thou surcease before I die : 



O let me live, to make amends 



Unto some of thy dearest friends. 



