An Excellent BALLAD, Entitul'd:
The WANDRING PRINCE of TROY.
To an Excellent Tune call'd Queen Dido. etc.
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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 increase so fast,
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that to resist none could suffice,
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Waste lies those Walls that was so good,
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and Corn now grows were Troy-town stood.
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AEneas wandering 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 Queen with sumptuous Feast,
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did entertain her wandering 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 wandering 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 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 sat 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 Truth 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 from the Sky was spread
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And he his doleful Tale ad told,
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as everyone lay in their Bed,
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Where they full sweetly took their Rest,
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save only Dido's boiling 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 always 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 the Skies were fl[ed]
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And Phoebus with his glittering Beams,
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thro' 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 somewhat loath to loose her Life,
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in woeful Case she made her moan
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And rowling 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 is he 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 die.
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Tho' Reason would thou should'st forbear,
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to stop thy Hand from bloody Stroke,
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Yet Fancy said, thou should'st not fear,
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who fetter'd three in Cupid's Yoak,
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Come Death said she, and end the smart,
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and with these Words she pierc'd her Heart.
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When Death had pierc'd 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 woeful 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 most costly made,
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and all Things finish'd mournfully,
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Her Body fine in Mould was laid,
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where it consumed speedily;
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Her Sister's 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 Greece where he lived long space,
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Whereas her Sister in short Time,
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writ to him to his soul Disgrace;
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In phrase of Letter 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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who 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 pray'd for thy Prosperity.
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Beseeching God that every Day,
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might breed thee more Felicity,
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Thus by thy Means I lost a Friend,
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Heavens send thee an 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 strait appear'd in his Sight,
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Queen Dido's Ghost both grim and pale,
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which made this valiant Soldier 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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unthankfully thou dig'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 Sprite,
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be not so ready to convey
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My Soul into eternal Light
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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 Breach 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 recalled again,
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nor you suffice before I die,
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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 Pity 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 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 woeful 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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