An excellent Ballad entituled, The Wandring Prince of Troy.
To the Tune of, Queen Dido.
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WHen Troy town for ten years wars,
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withstood the Greeks in manful wise,
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Then did their foes encrease so fast,
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that to resist none could suffice:
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Wast lies those walls that was so good.
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And Corn now grows wheae 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 Dido's Queen with sumtuous feast,
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Did entertain this wandring Guest.
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And as in Hall at Meat they sat,
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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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Thy 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 he could well)
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Of his unhappy ten Years Wars
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so true a tale began 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 sat the place was wet
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as if he'd seen those was again:
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So that the Queen with truth therefore,
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Said, Worthy Prince enough no more.
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The darksom night apace grew on,
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and twinkling Stars it'h sky was spread,
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And he his doleful tale had rold,
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as everyone lay in his bed;
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Where they full sweetly took their Rest,
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Save only Didos boyling breast.
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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 alwaies kept,
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unto the wall 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 skies were fled,
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And Phoebus with his glimering 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 Sips 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 lose her life,
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in woful case she made her moan;
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And rouling on her careful 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 approacheth near,
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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 self to dye.
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Though reason would thou shoulst forbear,
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to stop thy hand from bloody stroak,
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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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Come death (quoth she) and end the smart,
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And with these words she pierct her heart.
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When death had pierct the tender heart
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of Dido Carthagenian Queen,
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And bloody knife did end the smart
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which she sustain'd in woful 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 Funeral was 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 bestrew'd,
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Her Subjects grief their kindness shew'd.
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Then was AEneas in an Isle
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in Greecia, where he liv'd long space,
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Whereas her Sister in short time
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writ to 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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False-hearted wretch (quoth she) thou art,
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and treacherously thou hast betray'd
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Unto thy lure a gentle heart,
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which unto the 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 prayed 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 means I lost a friend,
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Heavens send the such untimely end.
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When he these lines, full fraught with gall,
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perused had, and weigh'd 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 Didos Ghost both grim and pale,
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Which made this valient Soldier quail.
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AEnea (quoth this grisly Ghosts)
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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 digg'st my grave.
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Therefore prepare thy fleeting soul
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to wander with me in the Air,
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Where deadly grief shall make it howl,
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because of me thou took'st no care;
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Delay no time, thy glass is run,
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Thy day is past, thy death is come.
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O stay a while thou lovely Spright,
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be not so ready to convey
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My soul into Eternal night,
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where it shall ne'er behold bright day.
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O do not frown; thy angry look
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Hath made my breath my life forsook.
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But woe is me, it is in vain,
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and bootless is my dismal cry,
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Time will not be recall'd again,
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nor your surcease before I dye:
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O let me live to make amends
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Unto some of thy dearest friends.
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But seeing thou obdurate art,
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and will 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 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 woful 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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