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 wars,
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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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Wast lye those wall[s] 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 last 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 wars,
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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 poor wandring prince hast had.
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And then anon this worthy knight,
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with words demure as be could well,
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Of his unhappy ten years wars,
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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 Prince enough no more.
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The darksome night apace grew on,
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and twinkling stars ith Skyes 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 boyling 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 unhappy alwayes kept,
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unto the walls she made her moan.
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That she should still desire in vain,
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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 stars from Skyes were fled
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And Phoebus beams with watry Clouds
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through misty Clouds appeared red.
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Then tidings came to her anon,
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That all the Trojan ships were gone.
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And then then the Queen with bloody knife
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did arm her heart as hard as stone.
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Yet somewhat loath to loose her life.
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in wofull wise 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 sed.
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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 thyself 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 yoake.
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Come death quoth she and ease 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 teen,
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AEneas 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 ffrisht mourufully,
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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 their 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 tu him to his foul 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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Fals-hearted wretch quoth she thou art,
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and traiterously thou hast betraid,
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Unto thy lure a gentle heart,
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that 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 deathbed when she lay,
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she prayd for thy prosperity,
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Desiring God that every day
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might breed thee great felicity.
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Thus by thy means I lost a Friend,
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Heaven send the such untimely end.
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When he these lines full fraught with gall
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perused had and weighd them right
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His lofty courage then did fall,
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and straight appeared in his sight,
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Queen Didos ghost both grim and pale
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Which made this valiant Souldier quail.
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AEneas quoth this grisly ghost
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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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Unthankfull thou digst my grave
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Wherefore prepare thy fleeting soul
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to wander with me in the Ayre,
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Where deadly grief shall make it howl
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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 daie is past and death is come,
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O stay awhile 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 nay,
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O do not frown thy angry look,
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Hath made my breath my iife forsook,
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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 upaid what I did ow,
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I must content myself to take
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What lot thou wilt with me pertake,
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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 took away,
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And no man knew his dying day.
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