|
Support the Monkey! Tell All your Friends and Teachers |
||||
 |
||||
|
Support the Monkey! Tell All your Friends and Teachers |
||||
|
|
||||
|
Never so radiant did her eyes appear; Not her own star confess'd a light so clear: Great in her charms, as when on gods above She looks, and breathes herself into their love. She held my hand, the destin'd blow to break; Then from her rosy lips began to speak: 'My son, from whence this madness, this neglect Of my commands, and those whom I protect? Why this unmanly rage? Recall to mind Whom you forsake, what pledges leave behind. Look if your helpless father yet survive, Or if Ascanius or Creusa live. Around your house the greedy Grecians err; And these had perish'd in the nightly war, But for my presence and protecting care. Not Helen's face, nor Paris, was in fault; But by the gods was this destruction brought. Now cast your eyes around, while I dissolve The mists and films that mortal eyes involve, Purge from your sight the dross, and make you see The shape of each avenging deity. Enlighten'd thus, my just commands fulfil, Nor fear obedience to your mother's will. Where yon disorder'd heap of ruin lies, Stones rent from stones; where clouds of dust arise- Amid that smother Neptune holds his place, Below the wall's foundation drives his mace, And heaves the building from the solid base. Look where, in arms, imperial Juno stands Full in the Scaean gate, with loud commands, Urging on shore the tardy Grecian bands. See! Pallas, of her snaky buckler proud, Bestrides the tow'r, refulgent thro' the cloud: See! Jove new courage to the foe supplies, And arms against the town the partial deities. Haste hence, my son; this fruitless labor end: Haste, where your trembling spouse and sire attend: Haste; and a mother's care your passage shall befriend.' She said, and swiftly vanish'd from my sight, Obscure in clouds and gloomy shades of night. I look'd, I listen'd; dreadful sounds I hear; And the dire forms of hostile gods appear. Troy sunk in flames I saw (nor could prevent), And Ilium from its old foundations rent; Rent like a mountain ash, which dar'd the winds, |
