Close ×

Search EBBA

EBBA 20276

Magdalene College - Pepys
Ballad XSLT Template
A proper new Ballad, intituled, The Wandring Prince of Troy
To the the tune of Queene Dido.

WHen Troy towne for ten yeeres wars
withstood the Greeks in manfull wise,
Yet did their foes increase so fast,
that to resist none could suffice.
Wast lye those walls that were so good,
And corne now growes where Troy Towne stood.

Eneas wandring Prince of Troy,
when he for land long time had sought,
At length arrived with great joy,
to mighty Carthage walls was brought:
Where Dido Queene with sumptuous feast
Did entertaine this wandring Guest.

And as in hall at meate they sate,
the Queene desirous newes to heare,
Of thy unhappy ten yeeres wars,
declare to me thou Troyan deare,
The heavy hap and chance so bad
That thou poore wandring Prince hast had.

And then anon this comely Knight,
with words demure as he could well,
Of his unhappy ten yeeres wars
so true a tale began to tell,
With words so sweet and sighes so deepe,
That oft he made them all to weepe.

And then a thousand sighes he fetcht,
and every sigh brought teares amaine,
That where he sate the place was wet,
as he had seene those wars againe:
So that the Queene with ruth therefore,
Said worthy Prince enough, no more.

The darkesome night apace grew on,
and twinkling stars in Skies were spred,
And he his dolefull tale had told,

and every one was laid in bed,
Where they full sweetly tooke their rest
Save onely Didoes boyling brest.

This silly woman never slept,
but in her chamber all alone,
As one unhappy alwaies wept,
and to the walls she made her moane,
That she should still desire in vaine,
The thing that she could not obtaine.

And thus in griefe she spent the night,
till twinkling stars from Sky were fled,
And Phoebus with his glittring beames
through misty cloudes appeared red,
Then tidings came to her anon,
That all the Troyan ships were gone.

And then the Queene with bloody knife,
did arme her heart as hard as stone,
Yet somewhat loth to lose her life,
in wofull wise she made her moane,
And rowling on her carefull bed
With sighes and sobs these words she said:

O wretched Dido Queene (quoth she)
I see thy end approaching neere,
For he is gone away from thee
whom thou didst love and held so deare,
Is he then gone and passed by,
O heart prepare thy selfe to dye.

Though reason would thou shouldst forbeare
and stay thy hand from bloody stroak,
Yet fancy sayes thou shouldst not feare,
whom fettereth thee in Cupids yoake:
Come death (quoth she) resolve my smart
And with these words she pierc'd her heart.

The second part. To the same tune.

WHen death had pierc'd the tender heart
of Dido Carthagenian Queene,
And bloody knife did end the smart,
which she sustaind in wofull teene,
Eneas being shipt and gone,
Whose flattery caused all her moane.

Her Funerall most costly made,
and all things furnisht mournefully,
Her body fine in mould was laid,
where it consumed speedily:
Her sisters teares her tombe bestrow'd,
Her subjects griefe their kindness show'd.

Then was Eneas in an Ile
in Grecia, where he liv'd long space,
Whereas her Sister in the short while
writ to him to his vile disgrace,
In phrase of Letters to her minde,
She told him plaine he was unkinde.

False hearted wretch (quoth she) thou art,
and traiterously thou hast betraid,
Unto thy lure a gentle heart,
which unto thee such welcome made,
My sister deare, and Carthage joy,
Whose folly bred her dire annoy.

Yet on her death-bed when she lay
she prayed for thy prosperity,
Beseeching heaven that every day
might breed thy great felicity:
Thus by thy meanes I lost a friend,
Heaven send thee such untimely end.

When he these lines full fraught with gall,
perused had and weigh'd them well,
His lofty courage then did faile,
and straight appeared in his sight,
Queene Didoes Ghost both grim and pale,
Which made this gallant Souldier quaile.

Eneas (quoth this grisly Ghost)
my whole delight while I did live,
Thee of all men I loved most,
my fancy and my will did give,
For entertainment I thee gave,
Unthankfully thou digst my grave.

Wherefore prepare thy fliting soule
to wonder with me in the ayre,
Where deadly griefe shall make it houle
because of me thou tookst no care:
Delay no time, the Glasse run,
Thy date is past, and death is come.

O stay a while thou lovely sprite,
be not so hasty to convey
My soule into eternall night,
where it shall nere behold bright day,
O doe not frowne, thy angry looke,
Hath made my breath my life forsooke.

But woe to me, it is in vaine,
and bootlesse is my dismall cry,
Time will not be recall'd againe,
nor thou surcease before I dye,
O let me live to make amends
Unto some of thy dearest friends.

But seeing thou obdurate art,
and wilt no pitty on me show,
Because from thee I did depart,
and left unpaid what I did owe,
I must content my selfe to take
What lot thou wilt with me partake.

And like one being in a trance,
a multitude of ugly Fiends,
About this woefull Prince did dance,
no helpe he had of any friends,
His body then they tooke away,
And no man knew his dying day.


Printed at London for John Wright. FINIS.

View Raw XML