A Proper new Ballad, Intituled, the wandring Prince
of Troy. The tune is, Queen Dido.
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WHen Troy Town for ten years Warrs
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withstood the Greeks in manfull wise,
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Then did their foes increase so fast,
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that to resist none could suffice,
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Waste lye those wals that were so good,
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And Corn now grows where Troy town stood.
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AEneas wandring Prince of Troy,
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when he for Land long time had sought,
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At length arrived with great joy,
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to mighty Carthage walls was brought,
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Where Didos Queen with sumptuous Feast,
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Did entertain this wandring guest.
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And as in Hall at meat they sate,
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the Queen desirous news to hear,
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Of thy unhappy ten years Warrs
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declare to me thou Trojan dear,
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The heavy hap and chance so bad
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That thou poore wandring Prince hast had.
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And then anon this worthy Knight
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with words demure as he could well,
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Of his unhappy ten years Warrs
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so true a tale began to tell.
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With words so sweet, and sighs so deep,
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That oft he made them all to weep.
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And then a thousand sighs he fetcht,
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and every sigh brought tears amain,
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That where he sate the place was wet,
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as if he had seen those wars again
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So that the Queen with ruth therefore,
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Said worthy P[r]ince enough no more.
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The darksome night apace grew on,
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and twinkling stars ith skys were spread,
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And he his dolefull Tale had told,
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as every one lay in his bed.
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Where they full sweetly took their rest,
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Save only Didos b[o]yling brest.
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This silly woman never slept
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but in her chamber all alone,
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As one unhsppy always kept,
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unto the walls she made her moan.
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That she should still desire in vaine
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The thing that she could not obtain.
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And thus in grief she spent the night,
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till twinkling starrs from skys were fled;
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And Phoebus with his glistring beams
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through misty clouds appeared red.
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Then tydings came to her anon
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That all the Trojan ships were gone;
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And then the Queen with bloody knife,
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did arm her heart as hard as stone,
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Yet some-what loath to loose her life,
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in wofull ease she made her moan.
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And rowling on her carefull bed,
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With sighs and sobs these words she said.
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O wretched Dido Queen quoth she,
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I see thy end approaching neer,
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For he is gone away from thee,
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whom thou didst love and hold so dear,
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Is he then gone and passed by,
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O heart prepare thy selfe to dye,
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Though reason would thou shouldst forbear
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to stop thy hand from bloody stroke,
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Yet fancy said thou shouldst not fear,
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who fettered thee in Cupids yoke,
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Com death quoth she and end the smart,
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And with those words she piercd her heart
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WHen death had piercd the tender heart
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of Dido, Carthaginian Queen,
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And bloody knife did end the smart
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which she sustaind in wofull teene,
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AEnears being shipt and gone,
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Whose flattery caused all her moan.
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Her Funerall most costly made.
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and all things finisht mournfully,
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Her body fine in mold was laid,
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where it consumed speedily,
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Her Sisters tears her Tomb bestrewd,
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Her Subjects grief his kindnesse shewd.
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Then was AEneas in an Isle.
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in Grecia where he livd long space,
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Whereas her Sister in short while.
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wrote to him to his foule disgrace,
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In phrase of Letters to her mind,
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She told him plain he was unkind.
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False-hearted wretch quoth he thou art,
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and Trayterously thou hast betrayd
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Unto thy lure a gentle heart,
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which unto thee such welcome made,
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My Sister dear and Carthage joy.
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Whose folly wrought her dire annoy.
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Yet on her death-bed when she lay,
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she prayd for thy prosperity,
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Beseeching God that every day
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might breed the great felicity,
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Thus by thy meanes I lost a friend,
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Heaven send thee such untimely end,
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When he these lines full fraught with gall,
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perused had and weigd them right,
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His lofty courage then did fall,
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and streight appeared in his sight
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Queen Dido[]s Ghost both grim and pale,
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Which made this valiant Souldier quail.
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AEneas quoth this grisly Grst,
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my whole delight while I did live,
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Thee of all men I loved most,
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my fancy and my will did give.
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For entertainment I thee gave.
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Unthankfully thou didgst my Grave,
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Wherefore prepare thy fleeting Soule
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to wander with me in the ayre
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Where deadly grief shall make it howle,
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because of me thou tookst no care.
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Delay no time thy glasse is run,
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Thy date is past and death is come,
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O stay a while thou lovely spright,
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be not so hasty to convey
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My soul into eternall night,
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where it shall nere behold bright day,
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O do not frown, thy angry look
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Hath made my breath my life forsooke,
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But wo is me it is in vain,
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and bootlesse is my dismall cry,
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Time will not be recald again
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nor thou surcease before I dye
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O let me live to make amends
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Unto some of my dearest friends,
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But seeing thou obdurate art,
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and wilt no pitty to me show.
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Because from thee I did depart,
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and left unpaid what I did owe,
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I must content my selfe to take
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What lot thou wilt with me partake,
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And like one being in a Trance,
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a multitude of ugly fiends,
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About this wofull Prince did dance,
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no help he had of any friends,
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His body then they tooke away,
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And no man knew his dying day,
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