Now cease these tears, lay gentle Vigil by, Let recent sorrows dim the pausing eye: Shall Æneas for lost Creusa mourn, And tears be wanting on Abella's urn? Like him I lost my fair one in my flight From cruel foes---and in the dead of night. Shall he lament the fall of Illion's tow'rs, And we not mourn the sudden ruin of our's? See York on fire---while borne by winds each flame Projects its glowing sheet o'er half the main: Th' affrighted savage, yelling with amaze, From Allegany sees the rolling blaze. Far from these scenes of horror, in the shade I saw my aged parent safe convey'd; Then sadly follow'd to the friendly land, With my surviving infant by the hand. No cumb'rous houshold gods had I indeed To load my shoulders, and my flight impede; The hero's idols sav'd by him remain; My gods took care of me---not I of them! The Trojan saw Anchises breathe his last, When all domestic dangers he had pass'd: So my lov'd parent, after she had fled, Lamented, perish'd on a stranger's bed. ---He held his way o'er the Cerulian Main, But I return'd to hostile fields again.
Neighborhoods Brief
On reading Dryden's Virgil
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