Not mourned the living, nor disturbed the dead." These thoughts she brooded in her anxious breast.-- On board, the Trojan found more easy rest. Resolved to sail, in sleep he passed the night; And ordered all things for his early flight. To whom once more the winged god appears; } His former youthful mien and shape he wears, } And with this new alarm invades his ears:-- } "Sleep'st thou, O goddess-born? and canst thou drown Thy needful cares, so near a hostile town, Beset with foes; nor hear'st the western gales Invite thy passage, and inspire thy sails? She harbours in her heart a furious hate, And thou shalt find the dire effects too late; Fixed on revenge, and obstinate to die. Haste swiftly hence, while thou hast power to fly. The sea with ships will soon be covered o'er, And blazing firebrands kindle all the shore. Prevent her rage, while night obscures the skies, And sail before the purple morn arise. Who knows what hazards thy delay may bring? Woman's a various and a changeful thing."-- Thus Hermes in the dream; then took his flight Aloft in air unseen, and mixed with night. Twice warned by the celestial messenger, The pious prince arose with hasty fear; Then roused his drowsy train without delay: } "Haste to your banks! your crooked anchors weigh, } And spread your flying sails, and stand to sea! } A God commands: he stood before my sight, And urged us once again to speedy flight. O sacred power! what power soe'er thou art, To thy blessed orders I resign my heart. Lead thou the way; protect thy Trojan bands, And prosper the design thy will commands."-- He said; and, drawing forth his flaming sword, His thundering arm divides the many-twisted cord. An emulating zeal inspires his train: They run; they snatch; they rush into the main. With headlong haste they leave the desert shores, And brush the liquid seas with labouring oars. Aurora now had left her saffron bed, And beams of early light the heavens o'erspread, When, from a tower, the queen, with wakeful eyes, Saw day point upward from the rosy skies. She looked to seaward; but the sea was void, And scarce in ken the sailing ships descried. Stung with despite, and furious with despair, She struck her trembling breast, and tore her hair. "And shall the ungrateful traitor go, (she said,) My land forsaken, and my love betrayed? Shall we not arm? not rush from every street, To follow, sink, and burn, his perjured fleet? Haste, haul my galleys out! pursue the foe! Bring flaming brands! set sail, and swiftly row!-- What have I said? where am I? Fury turns My brain; and my distempered bosom burns. Then, when I gave my person and my throne, This hate, this rage, had been more timely shown. See now the promised faith, the vaunted name, The pious man, who, rushing through the flame,