Hypsipile, and the fond Minonian[14] maid, Were both by trusting of their guests betrayed. How can I doubt that other men deceive, When you yourself did fair Œnone[15] leave? But lest I should upbraid your treachery, You make a merit of that crime to me. Yet grant you were to faithful love inclined, Your weary Trojans wait but for a wind; Should you prevail, while I assign the night, Your sails are hoisted, and you take your flight; Some bawling mariner our love destroys, And breaks asunder our unfinished joys. But I with you may leave the Spartan port, To view the Trojan wealth and Priam's court; Shown while I see, I shall expose my fame, And fill a foreign country with my shame. In Asia what reception shall I find? And what dishonour leave in Greece behind? What will your brothers, Priam, Hecuba, And what will all your modest matrons say? E'en you, when on this action you reflect, My future conduct justly may suspect; And whate'er stranger lands upon your coast, Conclude me, by your own example, lost. I from your rage a strumpet's name shall hear, While you forget what part in it you bear. You, my crime's author, will my crime upbraid;-- Deep under ground, oh, let me first be laid! You boast the pomp and plenty of your land, And promise all shall be at my command; Your Trojan wealth, believe me, I despise; My own poor native land has dearer ties. Should I be injured on your Phrygian shore, What help of kindred could I there implore? Medea was by Jason's flattery won; I may, like her, believe, and be undone. Plain honest hearts, like mine, suspect no cheat, And love contributes to its own deceit; The ships, about whose sides loud tempests roar, With gentle winds were wafted from the shore. Your teeming mother dreamed, a flaming brand, Sprung from her womb, consumed the Trojan land; To second this, old prophecies conspire, That Ilium shall be burnt with Grecian fire: Both give me fear; nor is it much allayed, That Venus is obliged our loves to aid. For they, who lost their cause, revenge will take; And for one friend two enemies you make. Nor can I doubt, but, should I follow you, The sword would soon our fatal crime pursue. A wrong so great my husband's rage would rouse, And my relations would his cause espouse. You boast your strength and courage; but, alas! Your words receive small credit from your face. Let heroes in the dusty field delight, Those limbs were fashioned for another fight. Bid Hector sally from the walls of Troy; A sweeter quarrel should your arms employ. Yet fears like these should not my mind perplex, Were I as wise as many of my sex; But time and you may bolder thoughts inspire, And I, perhaps, may yield to your desire. You last demand a private conference;