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SCENE the First.
Flaminius and Ænobarbus.Flaminius.
Ho! Ænobarbus, thou mayst now come forward.
What has thy angry soul been brooding o'er?
Ænobarbus.
Well, thou hast su'd, and hast obtain'd thy suit;
Of these Barbarians meanly hast implor'd
Thy wretched life, and hast it, Must I thank thee
For this uncommon privilege to stand
A tame spectator of the Roman shame,
To see exulting savages o'erturn
Our walls and ramparts, see them with the spoils
Of our waste dwellings, with our captive eagles,
And ancient trophies, ravish'd from our temples,
March in rude triumph o'er the gods of Rome?
Flaminius.
What, thou hadst rather die?
Ænobarbus.
And thou hadst rather
Live, like a dog, in chains, than die with courage,
Thou most unworthy of the Roman name.
Flaminius.
Did those, who now inhabit Rome, deserve
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Of our forefathers still survive among us,
I should applaud this bold contempt of life.
Our ancestors, who liv'd, while Rome was free,
Might well prefer a noble fate to chains;
They lost a blessing, we have never known;
Born and inur'd to servitude at home,
We only change one master for another,
And Dumnorix is far beyond a Nero.
Ænobarbus.
Meanst thou to mock me?
Flaminius.
No, I mean to shew,
Thy stern opinions suit not with the times.
Ænobarbus.
Still by our valour we control the world,
And in that duty will I match the foremost.
If our forefathers' manners be neglected,
Free from that blame, I singly will maintain them.
My sentiments are moulded by my spirit,
Which wants thy pliant qualities to yield
With ev'ry gust of fortune rude, or mild,
And crouch beneath example base, or worthy.
Flaminius.
Well, if thou canst not brook a British master—
Ænobarbus.
No, nor thy wanton folly will I brook,
Which sports alike with slavery, or freedom,
Insensible of shame.
Flaminius.
Suppose, I free thee.
Ænobarbus.
Free me?
Flaminius.
This day, if fortune be propitious.
Ænobarbus.
Ha! do not cheat me with delusive fables,
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Flaminius.
By all my hopes,
I do not trifle.
Ænobarbus.
Wilt thou give my bosom
Once more to buckle on the soldier's harness,
And meet in battle our insulting foes?
Shall my keen falchion gore the flying rout,
And raise a bleeding trophy to revenge
For each indignity, which Rome hath borne?
Hold me no longer in suspence; instruct me,
From whence these hopes proceed.
Flaminius.
Thou know'st, I lov'd
The British princess.
Ænobarbus.
Hast thou rais'd my hopes
To freedom, future victory and honour,
And dost thou talk of love?
Flaminius.
That love shall save us.
Thou saw'st, the gentle Emmeline but now
Stole to our tent, and gave her tend'rest welcome.
Unchang'd I found her, soft and artless still.
The gen'rous maid already hath suggested
The means of flight. The battle once begun,
While ev'ry Briton is intent on war,
Herself will guide us to a place of safety.
Ænobarbus.
Now I commend thee.
Flaminius.
Thou approv'st then.
Ænobarbus.
Ay.
Flaminius.
And see, the joyful moment is approaching;
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In rude disorder o'er the vale beneath,
Whose broad extent this eminence commands.
Mark their wide-waving multitude, confus'd
With mingling standards, and tumultuous cars:
But far superior to the rest behold,
The brave and gen'rous Dumnorix, erect
With eager hope, his lofty jav'lin shakes,
And with unpolish'd majesty adorns
The front of war.
Ænobarbus.
I mark the rabble well;
And soon shall view the Romans from their station
Between those woods, which shade the adverse hills,
Sweep with resistless ardour to the vale,
And trample o'er the savages, like dust.
Flaminius.
That smiling vale with pity I contemplate,
And wish, more gentle foot-steps might be seen
To press its verdure, and that softer notes,
Than war's terrific clamours, might be tun'd
From those surrounding shades to join the murmurs
Of that fair channel, whose sonorous bed
Receives the stream, descending from this grove
To form the limpid maze, which shines below.
Ænobarbus.
I see it glist'ning in the noon-day sun.
But British gore will change its glassy hue.
Flaminius.
Oh! might we rather on its friendly banks
Erect a grateful monument to peace;
That she, her sway resuming, might afford me
To clasp the gallant Dumnorix, and stile him
My friend, my benefactor, and preserver—
Stand from before this tempest, while it passes.
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