Page:Virgil's Pastorals, Georgics and Aeneis - Dryden (1709) - volume 2.djvu/126

320 At last they landed, where from far your Eyes May view the Turrets of new Carthage rise: There bought a space of Ground, which Byrsa call'd From the Bulls hid, they first inclos'd, and wall'd. But whence are you, what Country claims your Birth? What seek you, Strangers, on our Lybian Earth?
 * To whom, with sorrow streaming from his Eyes,

And deeply fighing, thus her Son replies: Cou'd your with Patience hear, or I relate, O Nymph! the tedious Annals of our Fate! Thro' such a train of Woes if I shou'd run, The day wou'd sooner than the Tale be done! From ancient Troy, by Force expell'd we came, If you by chance have heard the Trojan Name On various Seas by various Tempests tost, At length we landed on your Lybian Coast. The Good Æneas am I call'd, a Name, While Fortune favour'd, not unknown to Fame: My houshold Gods, Companions of my Woes, With pious Care I rescu'd from our Foes. To fruitful Italy my Course was bent, And from the King of Heav'n is my Descent. With twice ten Sail I crost the Phrygian Sea; Fate and my Mother Goddess, led my Way. Scarce sev'n, the thin Remainder of my Fleet,529 [sic] From Storms preserv'd, within your Harbour meet: My self distress'd, an Exile, and unknown, Debarr'd from Europe, and from Asia thrown In Lybian Desarts wander thus alone.