But poor Aurora had enough to do
With her own Loss, to mind another's Woe;
Who still, in Tears, her tender Nature shews,
Besprinkling all the World with pearly Dews.
The Voyage of Æneas.
By Mr. Catcott.
Troy thus destroy'd, 'twas still deny'd by Fate,
The Hopes of Troy should perish with the State.
His Sire, the Son of Cytherëa bore,
And Houshold-Gods from burning Ilium's Shore.
The pious Prince (a double Duty paid)
Each sacred Burthen thro' the Flames convey'd.
With young Ascanius, and this only Prize,
Of Heaps of Wealth, he from Antandros flies;
But struck with Horror, left the Thracian Shore,
Stain'd with the Blood of murder'd Polydore.
The Delian Isle receives the banish'd Train,
Driv'n by kind Gales, and favour'd by the Main.
Here pious Anius, Priest, and Monarch reign'd,
And either Charge, with equal Care sustain'd,
His Subjects rul'd, to Phœbus Homage pay'd,
His God obeying, and by those obey'd.
The Priest displays his Hospitable Gate,
And shows the Riches of his Church, and State;
The sacred Shrubs, which eas'd Latona's Pain,
The Palm, and Olive, and the votive Fane.
Here grateful Flames with fuming Incense fed,
And mingled Wine, ambrosial Odours shed;
Of slaughter'd Steers the crackling Entrails burn'd:
And then the Strangers to the Court return'd.
