But her unbury’d Lord, before her Sight,
Rose, in a frightful Vision of the Night:
Around her Bed he stalks; pale, wond’rous pale;
And staring wide, unfolds the horrid Tale,
Of the dire Altars, dash’d with Blood around;475
Then bares his Breast, and points to ev’ry Wound:
Warns her to fly the Land, without Delay;
And, to support her thro’ the tedious Way,
Shows where, in massy Piles, his bury’d Treasures lay.
Rous’d, and alarm’d, the Wife her Flight intends,480
Obeys the Summons, and convenes her Friends:
They meet, they joyn, and in her Cause engage
All, who detest, or dread, the Tyrant’s Rage.
Some Ships, already rigg’d, they seiz’d, and stow’d
Their Sides with Gold; then launch’d into the Flood.485
They sail; the bold Exploit a Woman guides;
Pygmalion’s Wealth is wasted o’er the Tides.
They came, where now you see new Carthage rise,
And yon’ proud Cittadel invade the Skies.
The
