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His mother's body from the fiend,

That sought her overthrow,

But being of her burden eas’d,

And safely brought to bed,
Her care and grief began anew,

And farther sorrow bred :
And of her friends she did intreat,

Desiring them to stay ; * Out of the bed, (quoth she) this night,

I shall be borne away.


* Here comes the spirit of my love,

• With pale and ghastly face, · Who till he bear me hence away,

• Will not depart this place ; • Alive or dead, I am his by right,

* And he will surely have, 'In spite of me and all the world,

• What I by promise gave.

• watch with me this night, I pray;

* And see you do not sleep; No longer than you be awake

My body can you keep.'.
All promised to do their best;

Yet nothing could suffice
In middle of the night to keep

Sad slumber from their eyes.

So being all full fast asleep,

To them unknown which way,

The child-bed-woman, that woeful night,

From thence was borne away;
And to what place no creature knew,

Nor to this day can tell ;
As strange a thing as ever yet

In any age befel.

You maidens that desire to love,

And would good husbands choose,
To him that you do vow to love,

By no means do refuse :
For God, that hears all secret oaths,

Will dreadful vengeance take
On such, that of a wilful vow

Do slender reckoning make.



When Troy-town (had] for ten years wars,

Withstood the Greeks in manful wise, Then did their foes encrease so fast,

That to resist none could suffice : Waste lie those walls that were so good, And corn now grows where Troy-town stood.

Æneas, wandering prince of Troy,

When he for land long time had sought, At length, arrived 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, • Of thy unhappy ten years' wars,

* 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 his unhappy ten years' wars

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 fet, *

And every sigh brought tears amain;
That where he sat 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 told,

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,

* Fetch'd. See p. 179, supra. Vol. II.


As one unhappy, always wept,

And to the walls she made her moan;
That she should still 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 beams,

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 approaching near ; ' For he is gone away from thee,

- Whom thou didst love, and held so dear : • Is he then gone, and passed by ?

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 words, she pierc'd her heart.

When Death had pierc'd the tender heart

Of Dido, Carthaginian queen;
And bloody knife did end the smart,

Which she sustain'd in woeful teen;
Æneas being ship'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 Æneas 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 death-bed when she lay,

• She pray'd for thy prosperity, Beseeching Heaven, that every day Might breed thy great felicity :

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