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Richard Stanyhurst's Aeneis

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Weene ye that oure lyking a fcalp of a charuel In heedeth? Graunt, earst that noe woer could catche youre phanfye to wedlock, Nor Lybye land lordinges, ne by Tyre defpi fed .Iarbas, 40 Nor manye ftat's lofty, that reft in plentiful Af f riek:

Wyl ye ftil endeuoure with pleafd looue vaynelye to iuftle? Wyl ye be forgetting in what curft countrye ye foiourne? Heere towns of Gettds doo ftand, a nation hardye, Heere ye fit embayed with Moors, with Syrtis vnhowfed. 45 Theare pepil of Barcey through foale wyld barrenes harboure. What fhal I tel further, what broyle Tyrus angrye doth hammer. What threats your broother thunders. I thinck, that the Godhead, with Iu-noes profperus ayding, Thee Troian veffels too this youre fegnorye pelted. 50 Loa what a fayre citty flial mount, what ftablifhed empyre By this great wedlock: with might of the vnitye Troian. How far fhal be flèing thee glorie renowmed of Affrick. Of Gods craue pardon, then, when youre feruice is eended, Youre new guest frollick, his stay let forgerye linger, 55 Til winters lowring bee paft and rayne make Orion. Til they rig al veffels, vntil tyme stormye be fwaged.

With theefe woords flaming her breft was kendled in hoallooue: Shee graunts to her tottring mynd hoape, fhame bafkful auoyding. First to the church god they, rest and peace meekelye requefting, 60 In facrifice killing, by woont accuftomed, hogrels: Firft to Ceres makelaw, too Phcebus, then to Lyceüs: Chieflye to- Queene luno, that wedlocks vnitye knitteth. Thee bol in hand firmely Queene Dido ,the bewtiful, holding, Pourd yt a mydjt both thé horns peaking of lillye white heyfer. 65 Soomtyme to the altars, diftant, of Gods fhe reforteth:

And makes frefh facrifice, the catal, new flaughtered, heeding. Shee weens her fortune by guts, hoate fmoakye, to confter. O the fuperftitions of be'ldam trumperye footh fays. Now what auayle temples, or vows, whilft deepelye the flamd fire 70 Kendleth in her marrow, whilft wound in breft cel is aking. Dido, thfi wretch, burneth, neere mad through cittye fhe ftalketh: Much lyke a doa wounded too death, not marcked of heerdman, His dart fharp headed through forreft Cajjian hurling, On the doa iump lighteh by foom chaunce medlye: the weapon, 75 Thee bodye fore ranckling dooth ftur thee deere to the frithward, Or to falow ftraining, in corps thee deadlye staf hangeth.

Often about thee wals Mneas flilye fhe trayneth: Too welth Sidonian poincting, too cittye nere eended. Her bye tale owt hauking amyd oft her party e fhe chocketh.