University of Virginia Library

Aurora 's Beams now on the Mountains smil'd,
And adverse Clouds with Purple Edgings gild.
Boyling with Martial Rage King Tollo stands,
And his high Chariot, and his Steeds demands:
Steeds, whiter than the purest Alpine Snows,
And fleeter than the Gales that Boreas blows.
He triumph'd when his noble Breed appear'd,
Their Harness thick with Gold and Silver smear'd:
When he their thundring Neighings heard, and saw
Their wanton Hoofs the trembling Valley paw,
The Grooms and Charioteers about him stand,
Reining the snorting Coursers in their Hand:
Stroking their Backs, they their hot Spirits sooth'd,
And their high Manes with Combs, and Spunges smooth'd.

Tollo mean time, puts on his mighty Arms,
And all the Field resounds with loud Alarms:
Each Army does for Bloody Toil prepare,
And draw their Troops out, to renew the War.
The thund'ring Coursers shake the trampled Ground,
And warlike Clamours from the Hills rebound.
Across the Plain the rapid Chariots fly,
And with thick Clouds of Dust annoy the Sky.
An Iron Harvest on the Field appears,
Of Launces, burnish'd Shields, and bristling Spears.
Throng'd Heads in long embattl'd Ranks dispos'd,
The lowring Front of Horrid War disclos'd.
First furious Tollo springs out from the Lines,
And on the Plain in radiant Armour shines:
His polish'd Helm opprest the dazled Sight,
And shone on high, like a huge Globe of Light.
The Golden Shield his mighty Arm did bear,
Hung like a blazen Meteor, in the Air.
His Coat of Mail was on his Shoulders cast,
And Golden Pieces his vast Thighs encas'd:
The Pieces round his Legs, Gold Buttons ty'd,
And his broad Sword hung dreadful by his Side:
Which when drawn out, like a destructive Flame
Of Light'ning, from the ample Scabbard came.
In such illustrious Arms, King Tollo shone,
And Thought no Strength superior to his own.
Then shaking in his Hand his massy Spear,
He cry'd aloud, that all his Threats might hear,
This Spear ne'er yet deceiv'd its Master's Hand,
Nor could the bravest Knight it's Force withstand:
Witness Albodian, and great Locrine, slain
In single Combates, on th' Albanian Plain.
Witness ye Caledonian Princes, you,
Whom with vast spoil on Tava's Banks I slew.
Now, by this faithful spear shall Arthur dy,
If his just Fears perswade him not to fly:
T'Augusta's Gates I'll bring his sever'd Head,
And in his Spoils, fair Ethelina wed.

Thus Tollo boasts, thus did his Fury rise,
And streaks of Fire flash'd from his raging Eyes.
So when a tawny Lyon, from the side
Of some high Lybian Mountain, has descry'd,
A spotted Leopard, or a foaming Boar,
To rouze his Courage he begins to Roar;
He shakes his Hideous Sides, his Bristles rise,
And fiercely round he rowls his fiery Eyes.
Again he Roars, his Paws the Mountains tear,
A fearful Preface to th' ensuing War.
High in his Chariot Tollo then advanc'd,
And from his Arms amazing Lustre glanc'd:
A Martial Ardour sparkled in his Eyes,
And hot with Choler he the Foe defies.
So when the Spring's warm Breath, and chearing Ray
Calls from his Cave th' awaken'd Snake, that lay
Folded to Rest, while Winter Snows conceal'd
The Mountains Heads, and Frosts the Lakes congeal'd.
The sloughy Spoils from his sleek Back depos'd,
And the gay Pride of his new Skin disclos'd;
He views himself with Youthful Beauties crown'd,
Elated casts his haughty Eyes around,
And rolls his speckled spires along the Ground.
Fresh Colours dy his Sides, and thro' his Veins
Turgid with Life, reviving Vigour reigns.
The sprightly Beast, unfolds upon the Plain
The glossy Honours of his Summer Train.
His Crest erected high, and forky Tongue
Shot out, he hisses, bounds, and leaps along.
Such Life and Vigour valiant Tollo shows,
Marching with eager Haste to meet his Foes.

And now the British Host advanc'd in sight,
With chearful Looks, and eager of the Fight:
Prince Arthur in refulgent Arms appear'd,
High in the midst, the Saxons saw, and fear'd.
As when a Merchant richly laden spies,
A lowring Storm far in th' Horizon rise,
A deadly Fear o'er all his Vitals reigns,
And his chill Blood hangs curdled in his Veins:
He furls his Sails, and fits his Ship to bear
The dreadful Hurricane, ascending thro' the Air.
Now both th' embattled Hosts advancing near,
King Tollo shakes his long, outrageous Spear:
And crying out, and threatning from afar,
In his swift Chariot flew amidst the War.
His rapid Wheels cut thro' the thickest Files,
With fearful Ruine, and prodigious Spoils.
Hapless Vodinar, first his Arm did feel,
And in his Breast receiv'd the pointed Steel.
Next Byron on the Sand expiring lies,
Orpes flies to his Aid, and with him dies.
Kentwin, Morosten, Caradoc he slew,
And with his Javelin pierc'd stout Mervin thro'.
Then you brave Youths, Risan, and Tudor fell,
Who did in Strength, and Martial Skill excel.
His fatal Spear transfixt bold Arnon's sides,
And from his Neck, his Sword the Head divides.
As Udas fled, the hissing Dart he sent
Enter'd his Back, and thro' his Navel went,
He fell, and on the Dust, sad to behold,
His Bowels issuing from his Belly roll'd.
Runo's right Knee his Javelin did invade,
And in the Bone the glitt'ring Weapon staid.
Strong Runo fell, and as he wildly star'd,
And many moving Words, in hast prepar'd
To beg his Life, th' insulting Conquerour flew,
And with his Spear pierc'd his pale Body thro':
Groaning he lay, and fetcht long double Sighs,
While in thick Mists Death swims upon his Eyes.

Next Leoline, King Cadwall's Son he kill'd,
A beauteous Youth, and not in War unskill'd:
His Head the Fauchion to the Shoulders Cleft,
And on the Dust his groveling Body left.
Ouenar felt within a sudden Dread,
And turning round his Chariot, would have fled;
When his long Spear the fierce Albanian threw,
Which crasht the Bones, and thro' the Temples flew:
Headlong Ouenar fell, and on the Ground
Lay weltring in his Blood, pour'd from his Wound.
His fatal Weapons vast Destruction made,
And where he pass'd, the slain in Heaps were laid.
So when a Flood from th' Hyperborean Hills,
Comes thund'ring down, and all the Valley fills,
Where the high Snows dissolv'd by Summer Beams,
In one vast Deluge joyn their various Streams:
The roaring Tide with its impetuous Course,
O'erflows the Banks, and with resistless Force
Sweeps Houses, Harvest, Herds, and Flocks away,
Nor can the loftiest Mounds its Progress stay.
With equal Rage, with such impetuous Hast,
Great Tollo thro' the thick Battalions past:
The rapid Wheels of his swift Chariot burn,
And in their Course the throng'd Brigades o'erturn.
O'er scatter'd Arms, bright Helms, broad Shields of Brass,
And broken Spears, his raging Axles pass:
O'er Heaps of Dead the furious Warrior flies,
And fills with Dust, and ratling Noise, the Skies.
The squallid Field, a Crimson Torrent choaks,
And mingled Dust, and Blood oppress his Chariot's spoakes.
The trembling Ground th' outrageous Coursers tear,
And snoring, blow their Foam into the Air:
Their fervid Nostrils breath out Clouds of Smoke,
And Flames of Fire from their hot Eye-balls broke.
With furious Hoofs o'er slaughter'd Heaps they fly,
And dash up bloody Rain amidst the Sky:
Reeking in Sweat, and smear'd with Dust and Gore
They spurn the Sand, and thro' the Battel roar.

Then Valiant Malgo with a fresh Brigade,
Advanc'd, the mighty Warrior to invade;
While from another Part his warlike Band,
Bothan led up, and made a noble Stand.
Now Showers of Darts, and feather'd Arrows fly
At Tollo's Breast, that darken all the Sky:
When Valiant Marodan approaching near,
With all his strength, casts his impetuous Spear;
It pass'd the Buckler's Plates, and folded Hide,
And thro' his Armour, slightly raz'd his Side:
Tollo incens'd, collecting all his Might,
Broke thro' their Ranks, and put the Foe to Flight.
Now dire Destruction reigns amidst their Files,
And all the Field was spread with warlike Spoils.
So when Battavian Harpooniers assail,
With their sharp Launces, some prodigious Whale,
That like a floating Mountain, lies at Ease,
Vastly extended on the Frozen Seas:
When the Leviathan begins to feel,
Within his wounded side, the bearded steel;
And looking round, sees all the ambient Flood,
Deeply distain'd with its old Monarch's Blood;
Straight all enrag'd, he throws himself about,
And thro' the Air does Crimson Rivers spout:
Swift, as a Storm, he does the Foe assail,
With his expanded Fins, and hideous Tail.
Some Barks are crush'd, as with a falling Rock,
And some o'erturn'd, sink with the dreadful Shock:
The rest ply all their Oars, and frighted Row,
Thro' Fields of Ice, to shun th' unequal Foe.

Canvallo then brought up a stronger Force,
Whom Galbut joyn'd, to stop th' Albanian's Course:
The fainting Britons these fresh Troops protect,
And with their Arms great Tollo's Triumphs checkt.
And now their thick Brigades were close engag'd,
And thro' the bloody Field Destruction rag'd:
Now Man to Man stood close, and Spear to Spear,
Helms mixt with Helms, and Shields with Shields appear.
Arrows aloft in feather'd Tempests fly,
Darts hiss at Darts, encountring in the Sky.
A dreadful Noise distracting all the Air,
Came from the hoarce Cerberean Throat of War:
While Arms on Arms, Bucklers on Bucklers ring,
Swords clash with Swords, and flying Javelins sing.
Some threaten loud, while some for Quarter cry,
And some insult, while some in Torment dy:
As when a Torrent down some Mountain's side,
To the low Valleys rolls its rapid Tide,
Where mighty Stones and rocky Fragments, high
Within the rude, unfashion'd Channels ly:
O'er abrupt Tracks its Course the Deluge bends,
And roaring down with mighty Falls, descends.
Prodigious Noise th' Aerial Region fills,
The Shepherds hear, and tremble on their Hills.
Or as;
When high Vesuvius stow'd with wealthy Stores,
Preluding to some dire Irruption, roars;
While horrible Convulsions shake its Womb,
And lab'ring Sides, which hidden War entomb:
Th' imprison'd Thunder bellows under Ground,
And the loud Noise fill all the Heav'ns around.
August Parthenope's gilt Turrets shake,
And fair Campania's wealthy Farmers quake.
Such was the loud distracting Noise of War,
Such horrid Clamours tore th' afflicted Air,
While the fierce Foes against each other rag'd,
And for Britannia's Empire were engag'd:
The neighing Steeds, and wounded Warriors Cries,
And rising Clouds of Dust confound the Skies.

Mordred mean time the mighty Pictan King,
Does to the Charge, his threatning Squadrons bring:
Sticking his Golden Rowels in the Sides
Of his huge Steed, amidst the Ranks he Rides.
The British Horse unshaken as a Rock,
Bravely sustain'd th' Invader's thundring Shock:
King Meridoc, who did the Horse Command,
Confirm'd his Men, to make so brave a stand.
Yet many Valiant Britons Mordred slew,
First with his Spear he pierc'd brave Jasper thro':
The Valiant Giffith by unhappy Chance,
Came in his Way, and felt his fatal Launce;
Beneath his Ear, the Weapon pierc'd his Head,
He fell, and in a Moment stretcht out Dead.
His furious Arm noble Lodanar felt,
On whose high Crest so fierce a stroke he dealt,
The Briton stunn'd with the prodigious Blow,
Drops the loos'd Reins, and lets his Weapons go:
The frighted Courser thro' the Battel Flies,
Lodanor in the Dust dismounted lies;
The Horses Hoofs in pieces crush his Head,
And deep into the Mire his Bowels tread.
Then with great Fury he at Adel flew,
And grip'd him with his furious Hand, and drew
The Briton from his Seat, his fiery Steed
Scours o'er the Field, from his lost Rider freed.
Wrigling and spurning in his Arms the Prey
'Midst loud Applauses Mordred bears away:
So when an Eagle from some Mountain's Top,
To truss a timerous Leveret makes a stoop,
And in his crooked Pounces takes him up.
Struggling he mounts, and squeaks amidst the Skies,
And faster than he ran before, he flies.

To fight the Pict straight Guinan did advance,
But in his Shield broke his projected Launce.
Then at the Briton Mordred's Javelin flew,
It mist the Rider, but the Courser slew.
Extended on the Ground the groaning Beast,
Th' unhappy Rider with his Weight opprest:
Mordred dismounts, and with his glitt'ring Dart
Loudly insulting, stabs him to the Heart.
Guinan a Friend to Meridoc was dear;
Who at his Death enrag'd, caught up his Spear,
And shaking it from far, with mighty Rage,
Spurs thro' their Ranks King Mordred to engage.
The Pictan Monarch who elated stood,
Like some tall Oak, that overlooks the Wood,
Or some high Tower, which with its lofty Head
Surveys the Towns beneath, around it spread;
Lifts his Gigantick Spear, and cry'd aloud,
To Meridoc advancing thro' the Crowd,
Briton come on, and but a Moment stand,
A glorious Fate expect from Mordred's Hand:
Let not thy Fears perswade thee hence to flie,
Heav'ns give thee Courage to come up, and die.
King Meridoc his Spear in Answer sent,
Which in the Shield's third Ply, its Fury spent.
Then Mordred threw, aloft the Weapon hist,
Ludar it slew, but Meridoc it mist.
Brave Ludar was a Lord of Neustrian Blood,
Who long in vain the fair Marinda woo'd;
To bless him with her Smiles, and heal his Wound,
But from the scornful Maid no Pity found.
Lost in Despair, he left his Native Soil,
His Torments to beguile with Martial Toil:
Now wounded by an erring Spear, he lies,
Cry'd out Marinda, cruel Fate! and dies.

Then did the Briton's second Weapon fly,
Which thro' his Armour, pierc'd King Mordred's Thigh:
Which from the Flesh he strove to draw in vain,
Then flew about wreckt with tormenting Pain.
Wildly he star'd, and turn'd his Courser's Head,
Aloud he roar'd, and from the Combat fled.
So when a Sword-Fish, urg'd with generous Rage,
Does a vast Whale, in Northern Seas engage:
The Finny Warriors, with a furious Course
To Battel rush, and meet with wondrous Force:
A Noble Fight ensues, and dreadful Strokes
Afflict the Main, and shake the Neighb'ring Rocks.
As they advance, they drive high Seas before,
The Monsters bellow, and the Billows roar.
The boiling Sea, with greater Fury raves,
Then when incumbent Storms press on its Waves.
The Surges raging with intestine War,
With high curl'd Heads, look terrible from far:
The Foam of breaking VVaves, in pointed Sleet
Like driven Snow, does on the Ocean beat.
At every Shock the dashing Waters fly,
And Clouds of Liquid Dust obscure the Sky.
At last the Whale his shining Belly goar'd,
By his fierce Enemy's invading Sword;
Wild with his Rage and Pain, whole Seas does spout,
And like a floating Island, rolls about.
The wounded Monster does the Seas out-roar,
And tumbles thro' the Billows to the Shore,
Leaving behind broad Tracks of Purple Gore.

Thus strove the Pictan and the British Horse,
While pious Arthur with resistless Force,
In radiant Arms, bright as th' Autumnal Star,
Flies thro' the Foe, himself a fearful War:
With his victorious Sword, which wav'd on high,
Made flaming Bows, and Arches in the Sky.
The Body of their Battel he invades,
And thro' a Sea of Blood victorious wades.
Where'er the Conqu'ror did his progress bend,
Ruin and wide Destruction did attend.
Prodigious Numbers by his Weapons fall,
And on their Gods in vain the Saxons call.
He made his way, like an impetuous Flood,
Or furious Burning, raging thro' the Wood.
Where'er he pass'd, the Dead lay thick behind,
As sapless Leaves, spread by a boistrous VVind.

Ussina first, a Valiant Lord, did feel,
In his Left Side, the Briton's piercing steel.
Next Godred fell from Valiant Ingulf sprung,
And as he fell, his Arms upon him rung.
Next fell the famous Ethelbert, betwixt
The Head and Shoulders with a Dart transfixt.
Nothing his Courage, or illustrious Blood,
That to his Veins from mighty Odin's flow'd;
Nothing his well-prov'd Armour, when assail'd
By Arthur's Hand, the noble Youth avail'd:
Struggling he lay, and wallow'd on the Ground
In the warm Streams that rush'd out from his Wound:
A gloomy Night o'erwhelms his dying Eyes,
And his disdainful Soul, from his pale Bosom flies
Then Imerick he slew a valiant Chief,
And Lodocan that rush'd to his Relief:
One with his Fauchion, th' other with his Spear,
That cleft the Head, this pierc'd from Ear to Ear.
Next from his Arm a singing Javelin sent,
Thro' the left Groin of mighty Crida went:
The wounded Chief retires in tort'ring Pain,
And Tracks of Blood his halting Leg distain.
Then Sigebert a noble Youth he slew,
The fatal Weapon pierc'd his Temples thro'.
His furious Dart did next at Ebald fly,
Which thro' his Shield pierc'd deep into his Thigh:
Inflam'd with Rage, and roaring out with Pain,
He strove to pull the Weapon out in vain.
His Javelin next transfixt Congellar's Reins,
And out his Life gush'd from his open'd Veins.
Then Edbert fell:
Thro' the bright Helmet which his Head encas'd,
Thro' Bones, and Brains, the furious Javelin pass'd;
And his left Eye from out its Circle struck,
On the sharp Point, a ghastly Prospect stuck.
Then Ethelrick a stout West Saxon Lord,
And Ida fell, by his victorious Sword.
The first, his Head down to his Shoulders Cleft,
Fell to the Ground, of Breath and Sense bereft.
The heavy Blade falling with oblique Sway,
Half thro' the other's Neck, did make its way.
The Head half sever'd on his Shoulders hung,
And from the Wound a bloody Torrent sprung.
Rolling in Gore upon the Field he lay,
Wildly he star'd, and groan'd his life away.
As when a mighty Tempest from the East,
The Sea assail'd, and on the Billows prest
By Heav'n's Command, that Jacob's Fav'rite Race,
Might Pharaoh's Arms escape, and safely pass.
Th' astonish'd Ocean did its Force obey,
Open'd his watry Files, and clear'd the pathless way.
The Waves retreated, and erected stood,
As fear and wonder had benum'd the Flood.
Then Front to Front they kept their Line unmov'd,
And those that crowd behind, they backwards shov'd.
Like a long Ridge of Crystal Hills they rose,
And the low Wonders of the deep disclose.
So valiant Arthur prest upon the Foe,
And so their Troops retir'd, and let the Conqueror thro.

Now he advanc'd to Tollo's foremost Band,
Where mighty Fingal and Dolavian stand;
Both which he slew, next valiant Duncan falls,
While he in vain for Help on Tollo calls.
And now on every side the Saxon Host
Began to fly, and yield the Battel lost.
Only King Tollo with enormous Rage
Breaks thro' the Troops, Prince Arthur to engage.

Mean time the Prince of Hell stood full of Care,
And fear'd th' Event of this unequal War.
To save the Saxon Squadrons which remain,
Whereof such Numbers lay already slain,
And to prevent Tollo's impending Fate,
Whose Arms the British Hero's could not mate.
The conquering Britons fierce pursuit to stay,
And once more Arthur's Triumphs to Delay,
By Heav'n's Permission, causes to arise
A dreadful Tempest in the troubled Skies.
The blustring Powers, and Demons of the Air,
Straight at his Summons to their Prince repair.

To whom thus Lucifer:
Aerial Powers, who my Commands obey,
And in these Regions own my soveraign Sway;
Know, I intend to end this bloody Strife,
To part the Hosts, and guard King Tollo's Life.
Go hasten then, each to his known Employ,
And let your loudest Storms the Heav'ns annoy.
Swift, as your own projected Lightnings fly,
And in a Moment trouble all the Sky.
The dusky Fiends obedient fly away,
Some fetch up misty Stores to choak the Day.
Some Pitchy Clouds of Stygian Fleeces made,
And in their Bowels Trains of Brimstone laid.
Some ram in Seeds of unripe Thunder, some
With mighty Hailstones charge their hollow Womb.
Some fetch strong Winds, which on their Wings may bear
The heavy Tempest lab'ring thro' the Air.
O'erspreading mists th' extinguish'd sunbeams drown,
Dark Clouds o'er all the Black Horrizon frown,
And hang their deep Hydropick Bellies down.
Hoarse Thunder rolls, and Murm'ring try's its Voice,
Preluding to the Tempest's dreadful Noise.
Infernal Torches now the Fiends apply,
And light the fiery Seeds that hidden lie.
The Heav'n's wide Frame outrageous Thunder shocks,
Loud, as the mighty Crack of falling Rocks.
The Cloudy Machines burst amidst the Skies,
And from their yawning Wounds exploded Lightning flies.
Confusion fills the Air, Fire, Rain, and Hail
Now mingle Tempests, now by Turns prevail.
No more the Britons, and the Saxons strove,
For that below, yields to the War above.
The conquering Britons, to the Camp return,
Their Loss in theirs, the vanquish'd Saxons mourn.
So when a summer Cloud the Sky o'erspreads,
The Bees that wander o'er the flowry Meads,
Or to the Tops of lofty Mountains climb,
To fetch the yellow spoils of od'rous Thyme,
Forsake their Toil, and lab'ring thro' the Air,
To their known Hives, with hasty Flight repair.
All to their Cells returning from abroad,
Depose their luscious Dew, and strutting Thighs unload.
Perplext, and sad, the Saxon Troops appear,
And horribly they curst Prince Arthur's spear.
They saw no Saxon could his Arm withstand,
And doubt Deliverance from King Tollo's Hand.

When half of this uneasie Night was spent,
To all the great Commanders Octa sent,
To bring them quickly to his royal Tent.
And first the Summons they to Tollo bear,
Who to equip himself did straight prepare.
A Wolf grin'd horribly upon his Head,
And o'er his brawny Back a Leopard's Hide was spread.
He girds his mighty Fauchion to his side,
Which hung across his Thigh, with fearful Pride.
Frowning, and on the great Affair Intent,
He straight to Octa's high Pavilion went.

Next Mordred halting with his Wound, and lame,
And by his massy spear supported, came.
A Beaver's Skin upon his Head he wore,
And a fierce Tyger's his wide shoulders bore.
A silver Belt, illustrious to behold,
Held his broad sword, adorn'd with studs of Gold.

Then Ella rose newly laid down to Rest,
And button'd on his rich embroider'd Vest.
O'er which a pompous scarlet Cloak he threw,
Fasten'd with Golden Clasps, and lin'd with costly Blue.
Then putting on his mighty sword, in Hast
Tho lame, he to the Counsel sternly past.
Then valiant Amades, and Chuline went,
With wise Pascentius, to their Monarch's Tent;
Follow'd by Osred, Sebert, and the rest
Of their chief Lords, who great Concern exprest:
And now th' august Assembly fill'd apace,
Where all the Leaders took their proper Place.

Then their Attention Octa did demand,
And leaning on his Scepter with his Hand,
He thus began, Princes, you see the Field,
To the victorious Britons still we yield.
By Sea, and Land we've felt their fatal Arms,
And all our Realm trembles at their Alarms.
Our Heaps of Dead the Field with Horrour crown,
And Seas of Saxon Blood the Valley drown.
All Albion's Isle resounds with dying Groans,
White with her Rocks, but whiter with our Bones.
Prince Arthur's Sword the Field with Ruin spreads,
Like Storms, which from the Trees dishonour'd Heads
Their shady Leaves, and spreading Branches tear,
Cover the Ground, and leave the Forrest bare.
On us th' offended Gods severely frown,
But on the British Arms look smiling down.
While we oppose the rapid Tide of Fate,
We think to stop, what we precipitate,
And learn our Errour, at too dear a Rate.
He said, the Saxon Chiefs, who found their Host
Feeble, and sunk by frequent Battels lost:
Thinking their Arms unable to oppose,
The rapid Course of their victorious Foes:
Upon Pascentius straightway cast their Eyes,
As one above the rest accounted Wise,
And who the King to Peace did still advise.

Pascentius then began:
Octa, the Counsel which at first I gave,
From Arthur's Arms our threaten'd State to save;
What since has happen'd, shows was just and right:
For who can meet the British Prince in Fight?
Our sinking State, and hard Affairs demand
A Remedy of Force, and near at hand.
He that in such a Storm, would safely steer,
Must have a Head that's steady, cool, and clear.
The lab'ring Ship on all sides feels dire Shocks,
Charybdis shunn'd, she's dash'd on Scylla's Rocks.
'Tis hard to give a Monarch Counsel, where
On either Hand such frightful Shelves appear.
Statesmen, in such a Case as this, debate
How best to save themselves, and not the State.
But if my Judgment still I must declare,
I would at any Price compose the War.
And till a more effectual can be found,
This as a safe Expedient I propound.
Sore with their Wounds, and sunk with ill success,
The Saxons strong Desires for Peace express.
This to obtain, we must to Arthur sue,
And the first Treaty, which we broke, renew.
The Princess Ethelina's Heav'nly Charms,
Are only stronger, than the Briton's Arms.
She must be offer'd as the Prince's Bride;
This once prevail'd, and must again be try'd.
But then you break the Promise, that you made
To Tollo, who'll complain he is betray'd.
Since hence to Peace, our chief Obsttuctions spring,
I move that Arthur, and th' Albanian King,
May by their single Arms the strife decide,
And let the Princess be the Conqueror's Bride.
If o'er the Britons we th' Advantage gain,
And Arthur by th' Albanian King is slain;
The Britons shall repass Sabrina's Tide,
And in their Rocks, and Hilly Lands abide:
But all the Cities, Castles, and the Land,
That lie on this side, Octa shall Command.
But if King Tollo slain by Arthur's Sword,
New Triumphs to the Briton shall afford;
We'll meet no more their Armies in the Field,
But all our Towns, and conquer'd Places yield.
Those who shall ask it, shall be wafted o'er,
To our old seats along the German Shore:
The Cantian Kingdom still we will retain,
And in its Limits circumscrib'd remain.
This, as the best Expedient, I propose,
He said, the Saxons murmur'd their Applause.

Then Tollo answer'd with a haughty Air,
Pleas'd with my Fate, I undertake the War.
My Sword and Arthur's, shall the Strife decide,
And let the Princess be the Victor's Bride.
This conquering Arm the Saxon Realm shall guard,
Repell the Foe, and win the bright Reward:
For if the Foe does not my Sword decline,
The War is ended, with his Fall or mine.

Th' Assembly rose, and back the Captains went,
Praising King Tollo much, but fear'd th' Event.
At the first opening of the tender Day,
Six Orators, King Octa sent away
To Arthur's Camp, who introduc'd declare,
The Measures taken to compose the War:
The Challenge Arthur heard with great Delight,
And readily accepts the single Fight.

Straight to the sacred Temples all repair,
Heav'n to solicite with united Prayer,
That Arthur in the Combate might succeed,
And vanquish'd Tollo, by his Weapon bleed.
With warmer Zeal, and with more earnest Cries,
The Britons never importun'd the Skies:
A deep Concern at Heart they all exprest,
And mighty Passions struggled in their Breast;
For if the Prince fell in the Combat, all
Well knew their unsupported State must fall.

Soon as the Sun had streak'd the Skies with Light,
Prince Arthur rose, and Arm'd himself for Fight.
Pieces with silver Studs his Legs encas'd,
And Plates of Gold his warlike Thighs embrac'd:
And on his Head he lac'd his burnish'd Helm,
Whence flashing Brightness did the Sight o'erwhelm.
Like some Celestial Orb his blazing Shield,
Darted amazing Lustre thro' the Field:
And then he girded to his Martial Side,
His faithful Sword, so oft in Battel try'd.
Thus arm'd the Hero mounts his thundring Steed,
Nor Thrace, nor Greece can boast a nobler Breed.
With his strong Arm he grip'd his trembling Spear,
His very Friends, tho pleas'd, yet seem'd to fear:
And as he spurr'd his Courser, and advanc'd,
Unsufferable Splendour from his Armour glanc'd.
As glorious Michael, when the Foe alarms
The blissful Realms, clad in Celestial Arms
Bright as the Sun, leads forth th' Angelick Host,
To chase th' Invaders from the Heav'nly Coast:
In such illustrious Arms the Prince was seen,
His warlike Grace was such, and such his God-like Mien.

Mean time King Octa from his Camp proceeds,
High in his Chariot, drawn by milk white Steeds:
And by his Side, Tollo appear'd in sight,
Compleatly Arm'd, and coveting the Fight.
His Coat of Mail was o'er his Shoulders flung,
And by his side his dreadful Fauchion hung.
Like a high Beacon lighted in the Air,
His Buckler flam'd, denouncing horrid War:
In his right Hand he shakes his pondrous Launce,
And on his Steed did to the Lists advance.
The Marshals of the Field, had markt out Ground
Fit for the Fight, and fixt high Pales around,
Which with arm'd Troops, on either side were lin'd,
Their Spears stuck in the Ground, their Shields reclin'd.
On either Side the Armies stood in sight,
Drawn up, as they too were design'd for Fight.

Attended with his Heralds on the Place,
Prince Arthur first appear'd with Martial Grace.
When Octa and his Priests advancing near,
Raising his Voice that those around might hear:
His Hand devoutly on his Breast, his Eyes
Fixt in a solemn manner on the Skies;
To ratifie the Treaty, thus he swore,
Th' Eternal Mind whom Christians do adore,
The God of Truth I here to witness call,
That if this Day by Tollo's Arms I fall;
We will no more Hostilities repeat,
But o'er Sabrina's Waters will retreat:
We will no more the Saxon State molest,
But in our Hills and snowy Mountains rest:
But if we find this an auspicious Day,
And by Heaven's Aid, my Arms shall Tollo slay;
Then if the vanquish'd Saxons, shall restore
The Towns and Lands, which we possest before,
They in the Cantian Kingdom shall reside,
And unmolested in those Bounds abide.

Then did King Octa by an Altar stand,
Rais'd with Green Turf, and on it laid his Hand;
And thus his Idols he invok'd.
Irmansul God of Arms, and mighty Jove,
Tuisco, Odin, all ye Powers above,
And you green Gods, and blew-ey'd Goddesses,
Who rule the spacious Empire of the Seas:
And you tremendous Powers, who all resort,
At Pluto's Summons, to th' Infernal Court:
Ye rural Gods, who rule the Hills and Woods,
Ye watry Powers, who dive beneath the Floods:
By gloomy Styx I swear, bear witness all,
That if King Tollo does in Combate fall,
The Treaty now agreed to, shall be kept,
The Cantian Kingdom only we except,
All other Lands, our once victorious Sword,
Won from the British Kings, shall be restor'd:
He who shall Conquerour in the Field remain,
Shall for his Bride fair Ethelina gain.

He said, and to confirm the Oath he swore,
He drew his Sword, that by his Side he wore;
And with its Point did his full Veins divide,
And let out from his Arm, the Crimson Tide:
A golden Bowl receiv'd the vital Flood,
Which Octa took, and drank the flowing Blood.

Arthur and Tollo now themselves prepare,
By a brave Combate to decide the War.
The Martials, Heralds, and the Fecial Priests
The Ceremonies finish'd, clear the Lists.
Then the loud Trumpet's Clangour did invite,
The mighty Warriours to begin the Fight.
Both in their Hands grasping their pointed Launce,
Spur their hot Steeds, and to the War advance.
And now the Combatants approach'd so near,
Their Voices rais'd, they might each other hear.

Then Tollo cry'd aloud:
Till now distress'd without a Friend or Home,
In forraign Lands, you did an Exile roam,
Here stop your Course, your Soul mean time shall go,
A wandring Exile to the Shades below.
I'll take off with this Sword your gasping Head,
And in your Spoils, fair Ethelina wed.
Were you brave Hector, or his braver Foe,
Or Godlike Hercules, I'd stand your Blow:
Did you advance, with Thunder in your Hand,
Against your Bolts I would undaunted stand:
But such a mighty Foe I need not fear,
You bear not such a Shield, nor such a Spear.
Oh! that bright Ethelina now stood by,
To see her Lover, and my Rival dy.
Thus boastful Tollo did his Choler vent,
And thus in Air his empty Threats were spent.
The pious Prince enrag'd, without Reply,
Shakes his long Spear, and hastes to Victory:
As when a roaming Lyon from a far,
Sees a strong Bull stand threat'ning furious War,
Who flourishes his Horns, looks sowrly round,
And hoarcely bellowing, traverses the Ground.
For want of Foes, he does the Wood provoke,
Runs his curl'd Head against the next tall Oak,
Wishing a nobler Object of his Stroke.
The Lyon fir'd, regards him with Disdain,
And to insult him scowrs along the Plain:
So Arthur boyling with Heroic Rage,
Springs with a full Carier, King Tollo to engage.
Collected in himself th' Albanian stood,
Like some tall, shady Pine, it self a Wood,
Or a vast Cyclops wading thro' the Flood.

Then Tollo first, Arthur advancing near,
With all his Force casts his long Ashen Spear;
Which Arthur on his temper'd Buckler took,
While with the vast concern the Britons shook:
Thro' the first Plate of Brass the Weapon went,
But in the next its dying Force was spent.
Then from his valiant Arm the Briton threw,
His Javelin, singing thro' the Air it flew;
The yielding Buckler did its Force obey,
And thro' the Plates, and Hide it made its Way;
Thro' the thin Joynts of Steel the Spear did fly,
And wounded, as it past, his mighty Thigh:
The Blood sprung thro' his Armour, from the Wound,
And trickling down the Plate, distain'd the Ground.

Then did King Tollo's second Weapon fly,
Which broke within the Buckler's second Ply.
The British Prince another Weapon threw,
Which, Tollo stooping, o'er his Shoulders flew;
And falling went so deep into the Ground,
No Arm, of Force to draw it out, was found.
These Weapons spent, to end the noble Fight,
The furious Warriors from their Steeds alight:
And as they nimbly leapt upon the Ground,
The most undaunted Chiefs that stood around,
So fearful was the Chinck their Armour made,
Started, as Men surpriz'd, and look'd afraid.
Then furious Strokes on either Side they deal,
The ecchoing Air rings with the dreadful Peal:
Pale with the vast Concern both Armies look,
And for their Champion's Life with Terror shook.
So when two vig'rous Stags, each of his Herd
The haughty Lord, thro' all the Forrest fear'd,
Resolv'd to try which must in Combate yield,
In all their Might advance across the Field;
They Nod their lofty Heads, and from afar
Flourish their Horns, preluding to the War.
The Combatants their threatning Heads incline,
And with their clashing Horns in Battel joyn:
They rush to combate with amazing Strokes,
And their high Antlets meet with dreadful Shocks;
The mighty Sound runs ratling o'er the Hills,
And Eccho with the Fight the Valley fills:
Retiring oft, the Warriours cease to push,
But then with fiercer Rage to Battel rush.
The trembling Herds at Distance gaze, and stay
To know the Conqueror, whom they must obey:
No less concern'd Saxons, and Britons stand
To see the Victor, who must both command.

Now Tollo backwards shrinks, and panting stood
Faint with his Labour, and his Loss of Blood.
The British Prince enrag'd to see the Fight
So far prolong'd, collecting all his Might,
With double Fury on th' Albanian prest,
And his bright Sword high rais'd, upon his Crest
Descended with so horrible a Sway,
It stun'd the Foe, and took his Sense away;
He dropt his Arms, and giddy reel'd about,
The joyful Britons raise a mighty Shout.
Arthur on fire, lets not th' Advantage go,
But stepping forward with a back hand Blow,
Drawn with prodigious Strength, from side to side,
Did his wide Throat, and spouting Veins divide:
A crimson River gushing from the Wound,
Ran down his burnish'd Armour to the Ground.
Reeling and tott'ring for a While he stood,
And from his Stomack vomits clotted Blood;
Then down he fell, the Field beneath, and all
The Saxon Army tremble at his Fall:
Groveling in Death, and smear'd with Gore he lay,
And his dim Eyes scarcely admit the Day:
Rolling in Dust his wounded Body bled,
Away his Soul with Indignation fled:
Convuls'd and quivering, for a while he fetcht
A dreadful Groan, and breathless out he stretcht
As when a Whirlwind, with outrageous Force
O'erturns a lofty Oak, that stops its Course,
Its Roots torn up, the Tree's caught from the Ground,
And with the furious Eddy carried round:
Then falling from the Sky, his stately Head,
And shady Limbs, the groaning Hill o'erspread:
So by Prince Arthur's Arms, King Tollo slain,
Fell down, and lay extended on the Plain.