She humbly did beseech him for our bane,
And charg'd him drowne my sonne with all his traine.
Then gan the windes breake ope their brazen doores,
And all Æolia to be vp in armes:
Poore Troy must now be sackt vpon the Sea,
And Neptunes waues be enuious men of warre,
Epeus horse to Ætnas hill transformd,
Prepared stands to wracke their woodden walles,
And Æolus like Agamemnon sounds
The surges, his fierce souldiers to the spoyle:
See how the night Ulysses-like comes forth,
And intercepts the day as Dolon erst:
Ay me! the Starres supprisde like Rhesus Steedes,
Are drawne by darknes forth Astræus tents.
What shall I doe to saue thee my sweet boy?
When as the waues doe threat our Chrystall world,
And Proteus raising hils of flouds on high,
Entends ere long to sport him in the skie.
False Iupiter, rewardst thou vertue so?
What? is not pietie exempt from woe?
Then dye Æneas in thine innocence,
Since that religion hath no recompence.
Iup. Content thee Cytherea in thy care,
Since thy Æneas wandring fate is firme,
Whose wearie lims shall shortly make repose,
In those faire walles I promist him of yore:
But first in bloud must his good fortune bud,
Before he be the Lord of Turnus towne,
Or force her smile that hetherto hath frownd:
Three winters shall he with the Rutiles warre,
And in the end subdue them with his sword,
And full three Sommers likewise shall he waste,
In mannaging those fierce barbarian mindes:
Which once performd, poore Troy so long supprest,
From forth her ashes shall aduance her head,
And flourish once againe that erst was dead:
But bright Ascanius beauties better worke,
Who with the Sunne deuides one radiant shape,
Shall build his throne amidst those starrie towers,
That earth-borne Atlas groning vnderprops:
No bounds but heauen shall bound his Emperie,
Whose azured gates enchased with his name,
Shall make the morning halt her gray vprise,
To feede her eyes with his engrauen fame.
Thus in stoute Hectors race three hundred yeares,
The Romane Scepter royall shall remaine,
Till that a Princesse priest conceau'd by Mars,
Shall yeeld to dignitie a dubble birth,
Who will eternish Troy in their attempts.
Venus. How may I credite these thy flattering termes,
When yet both sea and sands beset their ships,
And Phœbus as in stygian pooles, refraines
To taint his tresses in the Tyrrhen maine?
Iup. I will take order for that presently: Hermes awake, and haste to Neptunes realme, Whereas the Wind-god warring now with Fate, Besiege the ofspring of our kingly loynes, Charge him from me to turne his stormie powers, And fetter them in Vulcans sturdie brasse, That durst thus proudly wrong our kinsmans peace. Venus farewell, thy sonne shall be our care: Come Ganimed, we must about this geare.
Exeunt Iupiter cum Ganimed.
Venus. Disquiet Seas lay downe your swelling lookes,
And court Æneas with your calmie cheere,
Whose beautious burden well might make you proude,
Had not the heauens conceau'd with hel-borne clowdes,
Vaild his resplendant glorie from your view,
For my sake pitie him Oceanus,
That erst-while issued from thy watrie loynes,
And had my being from thy bubling froth:
Triton I know hath fild his trumpe with Troy,
And therefore will take pitie on his toyle,
And call both Thetis and Cimodoæ,
To succour him in this extremitie.
Enter Æneas with Ascanius, with one or two more.
What? doe I see my sonne now come on shoare:
Venus, how art thou compast with content,
The while thine eyes attract their sought for ioyes:
Great Iupiter, still honourd maist thou be,
For this so friendly ayde in time of neede.
Here in this bush disguised will I stand,
Whiles my Æneas spends himselfe in plaints,
And heauen and earth with his vnrest acquaints.
Æn. You sonnes of care, companions of my course,
Priams misfortune followes vs by sea,
And Helens rape doth haunt thee at the heeles.
How many dangers haue we ouer past?
Both barking Scilla, and the sounding Rocks,
The Cyclops shelues, and grim Ceranias seate
Haue you oregone, and yet remaine aliue!
Pluck vp your hearts, since fate still rests our friend,
And chaunging heauens may those good daies returne,
Which Pergama did vaunt in all her pride.
Acha. Braue Prince of Troy, thou onely art our God,
That by thy vertues freest vs from annoy,
And makes our hopes suruiue to cunning ioyes:
Doe thou but smile, and clowdie heauen will cleare,
Whose night and day descendeth from thy browes:
Though we be now in extreame miserie,
And rest the map of weatherbeaten woe:
Yet shall the aged Sunne shed forth his aire,
To make vs liue vnto our former heate,
And euery beast the forrest doth send forth,
Bequeath her young ones to our scanted foode.
Asca. Father I faint, good father giue me meate.
Æn. Alas sweet boy, thou must be still a while,
Till we haue fire to dresse the meate we kild:
Gentle Achates, reach the Tinder boxe,
That we may make a fire to warme vs with,
And rost our new found victuals on this shoare.
Venus. See what strange arts