The spoils which they from ransacked houses brought, And golden bowls from burning altars caught, The tables of the gods, the purple vests, The people's treasure, and the pomp of priests. A rank of wretched youths, with pinioned hands, And captive matrons, in long order stands. Then, with ungoverned madness, I proclaim, Through all the silent streets, Creüsa's name: Creüsa still I call; at length she hears, And sudden, through the shades of night, appears-- Appears, no more Creüsa, nor my wife, But a pale spectre, larger than the life. Aghast, astonished, and struck dumb with fear, I stood; like bristles rose my stiffened hair. Then thus the ghost began to sooth my grief:-- "Nor tears, nor cries, can give the dead relief. Desist, my much-loved lord, to indulge your pain; You bear no more than what the gods ordain. My fates permit me not from hence to fly; Nor he, the great controller of the sky. Long wandering ways for you the powers decree-- On land hard labours, and a length of sea. Then, after many painful years are past, On Latium's happy shore you shall be cast, Where gentle Tyber from his bed beholds The flowery meadows, and the feeding folds. There end your toils; and there your fates provide A quiet kingdom, and a royal bride: There Fortune shall the Trojan line restore, And you for lost Creüsa weep no more. Fear not that I shall watch, with servile shame, The imperious looks of some proud Grecian dame, Or, stooping to the victor's lust, disgrace My goddess mother, or my royal race. And now, farewell! the parent of the gods Restrains my fleeting soul in her abodes. I trust our common issue to your care." She said, and gliding passed unseen in air. I strove to speak: but horror tied my tongue; } And thrice about her neck my arms I flung, } And, thrice deceived, on vain embraces hung. } Light as an empty dream at break of day, Or as a blast of wind, she rushed away. Thus having passed the night in fruitless pain, I to my longing friends return again-- Amazed the augmented number to behold, Of men and matrons mixed, of young and old-- A wretched exiled crew together brought, With arms appointed, and with treasure fraught, Resolved, and willing, under my command, To run all hazards both of sea and land. The Morn began, from Ida, to display Her rosy cheeks; and Phosphor led the day: Before the gates the Grecians took their post, And all pretence of late relief was lost. I yield to Fate, unwillingly retire, And, loaded, up the hill convey my sire. FOOTNOTES: [100] The destruction of Veii is here shadowed under that of Troy. Livy, in his description of it, seems to have emulated in his prose, and almost equalled, the beauty of Virgil's verse.--DRYDEN. ÆNEÏS. BOOK III. ARGUMENT.