 | King Arthur : or, The British Worthy |  |
SCENE II.
A Rural Prospect.Enter Philidel.
Phil.
Alas, for pity, of this bloody field!
Piteous it needs must be, when I, a spirit,
Can have so soft a sense of human woes!
Ah! for so many souls, as but this morn
Were cloath'd with flesh, and warm'd with vital blood,
But naked now, or shirted but with air.
A SONG.
O Peace, sweet Peace, descend,
Of human woes the friend,
O charm to rest this troubled isle,
And o'er the land propitious smile;
Thy smile can chase these clouds away,
From darkest night bring forth the day.
O Peace, sweet Peace, appear,
And plant thy olive here.
| King Arthur : or, The British Worthy | |