King Arthur :: :: University of Virginia Library

King Arthur

An Heroick Poem. In Twelve Books. By Richard Blackmore. To which is Annexed, An Index, Explaining the Names of Countrys, Citys, and Rivers, &c

Blackmore, Richard

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KING ARTHUR.

BOOK I.

Celestial Muse, Instruct me how to sing
The generous Pity of the British King,
Who mov'd by Gallia's crys, and Heav'n's Command,
Sustain'd excessive toyl by Sea and Land,
The Gallic Christians Freedom to restore,
And save Neustrasia's Realm from Clotar's power.

The Valiant Briton from the Cimbrian Coast
Was newly landed with his Conq'ring Host,
Leading his Spoils and Captive Lords along
Augusta's Streets, amidst th'applauding throng,
Who sung his Triumphs and proclaim'd aloud
His mighty Deeds on Byder's wond'ring Flood:
When num'rous Envoys drawn by Arthur's fame,
From distant Kingdoms to Augusta came.
Faces so strange, and Habits so unknown,
Had ne'er before pass'd thro' th'admiring Town.
They made their publick Entrys at her Gate
With great Magnificence and Princely State.
They strove in Pomp each other to out-do,
And who should most their Master's Greatness shew.
Thick at the Court did Forreign Lords appear,
Some by Affection brought, but more by Fear.

Some Leagues of lasting Friendship offer'd, some
Did for Protection from Oppressors come:
But all, O Albion, did applaud thy fate
Blest with so just a Prince to guide thy State.

The Night her Sable Banner did display,
And from the Air to chase the Light away
Drew out her must'ring Shades in black Array:
When Britain's King dissolv'd in balmy rest
Dismist the Cares of Empire from his Breast.
But Heav'n mean time, which such a Noble Mind
For Dangers, and for glorious toyl design'd,
Did by a Dream sent in the silent Night,
To fresh Heroic Deeds the King excite:
Its Springs divinely touch'd, his lab'ring Brain
Did this Celestial Vision entertain.

The pious King seem'd in his Dream to stand
On Albion's Shore, and to the adverse Strand
Looking across the interposing Tyde
Which do's the Briton from the Frank divide,
He saw upon the Beach Sev'n Men appear
Of Noble Form, and more than Vulgar Air.
Advancing to the Margin of the Flood,
And lifting up their hands they cry'd aloud,
Oh, come and help us, come victorious King,
And quick Assistance to th'afflicted bring.
The strong Impression Sleep's soft Fetters broke,
And from his Dream the British King awoke:
Who in his thoughts revolv'd what Heav'n should mean
By this surprizing Visionary Scene.

When the fair Morn had shot her early ray,
And spread her Purple Loom with dawning Day:
Four Noble Gallic Lords who had surviv'd
King Clotar's Rage, at Arthur's Court arriv'd,
To move the Briton's Pity, and to crave
His mighty Aid their sinking State to save.
Then on his Throne his Scepter in his hand
Great Arthur sate, but first he gave command
That these to have the Audience which they sought,
Before his high Tribunal should be brought.

Soon as the Franks came onward to relate
King Clotar's Rage, and Gallia's wretched fate,
Arthur perceivd by Face, and Dress, and Mein
That he the Men had in his Vision seen.

The Gallic Peers advanc'd, and at their head
Great Clovis came in Arms and Suff'rings bred.
So soft his Air, so graceful was his Port,
As he had practis'd nothing but the Court:
And yet so brave in Arms, and so much skill'd,
As he had ne'er been absent from the Field.
He spoke to all the high Concerns of State,
As in the Council he had ever sate,
And when amidst the Men that wore the Gown,
The Schools admir'd, and thought him all their own.
But his Religious Zeal and Pure Belief
Crown'd with Immortal Praise the Pious Chief.
The Noblest British mixt with Gallic Blood
To make th'uncommon Man together flow'd:

For by the Father's he was near ally'd
To Gallia's King, and by the Mothers side
He from the Catuchanian Princes came
A house in Albion of Illustrious Fame.
He with a Mournful and Pathetic Air
To Britain's King address'd this humble prayer.

When Heav'n with deep Compassion mov'd to see
Mankind Destroy'd by raging Tyranny,
Is pleas'd to raise some mighty Chief, to ease
Kingdoms laid wast, and Captives to release;
To pull proud Monarchs and Oppressors down
And Right, and Liberty to re-enthrone;
When such a Gift Divine from Heav'n is sent,
The Poor, th'Opprest, th'Afflicted Innocent
Think they have Right to tell to him their Grief,
And from his generous Arms to crave Relief:
Heros are Blessings on the World bestow'd,
They reap the Honour, but Mankind the Good.

Torn by a fierce Destroyer's bloody Jaws,
And grip'd between Oppressions Iron Claws,
Tormented with unsufferable Pains,
Bow'd down with Grief, and laden with our Chains,
Low at your feet, we for your Pity cry,
To whom th'Afflicted for Protection fly.
We ask Redress from your Victorious Sword,
To ease sad Gallia's Realm your Aid afford.
Th'Oppressor Clotar with a cruel hand
Spreads fearful Desolation thro' our Land.

He mocks his Gods, their Laws he disregards,
And scorns alike their Vengeance and Rewards.
Our Noblest Virgins from their Parents torn
Are to his Bed with Barb'rous Outrage born.
In every Town unheard of Rapes asswage
His Lust, as endless Murders do his Rage.
His dreadful Court, like a Cyclopian Den,
Is fill'd with Rapine, and half-eaten Men;
Where lies of mangled Limbs an endless store,
And wide mouth'd Caldrons slow with Humane Gore.
For he his Subjects on his Table sets,
And their raw Limbs (a horrid Banquet) eats:
With Savage Riot on th'unnatural food
He pours down mighty Bowls of reeking Blood.
Pleas'd with the monstrous Luxury he draws
Into a hideous Smile his squallid Jaws.
Vast Magazines appear within his Court
Where Torments are dispos'd of various sort;
Where Cruelty with bloody Trophys crown'd
Views all her Deaths and Tortures spread around:
Wheels, Crosses, Racks by able Masters wrought
Who had with Hellish Skill and anxious thought,
Refin'd Destruction to Perfection brought.
And here their Curst Inventions all remain
Which Death improve, and manage ling'ring Pain.
Th'Oppressor teaches Fate a slower pace,
And rarely gives the Deadly stroke of Grace.
He thinks to those he does Compassion show,
Who die but once, and at a single blow.

His Guards the bloody Servants of his will
With Spoil and Ruin all our Cities fill.
These Ministers of Hell with Sword in hand
Insult our Doors, and all our Wealth demand.
The Farmer sweats and tills in vain the Soil,
These reap the Harvest and enjoy his Toil.
Merchants who Forreign Treasures bring are lost
Upon their own unhospitable Coast.
Those who escape loud Tempests, Rocks, and Waves
Th'inexorable Clotar never saves.
Our Sons and Daughters to the Mountains fly,
Where Grass and Roots their want of Bread supply.
The Men in Heaps are spread upon the Ground,
And half chewn Herbs within their Mouths are found.
Our Towns are Empty, and the tender Grass
Springs in the unfrequented Market-place.
If to our Cruel Masters we complain,
They mock our Suff'rings, and increase our Pain.
Licentious Troops not sparing Sex or Age,
Leave all the marks of their unbridled Rage.
Bloody Assasins force our Doors by Night,
And stab the Children in the Parents sight.
Matrons and Maids together die, when first
They've been dishonor'd by the Murd'rer's Lust.
Some the Destroyer puts off from the Shore
In Barks, without a Rudder Sail or Oar,
To be convey'd, as Winds and Billows please,
'Midst all th'amazing Terrours of the Seas.
Some Gally Slaves with Endless labour sweat,
And on the Ocean's back their strokes repeat,

While from their cruel Masters they receive
More frequent wounds, than to the Seas they give.
The Christians are in Christian Temples slain,
And the Priest's blood do's his own Altar stain.
Some doom'd in Mines to subterranean toyl,
Enrich th'Oppressor wich the wealthy spoil.
To Prisons some are drag'd in pondrous chains,
Where Ruffians Whips inflict tormenting pains.
In Dungeons some 'midst loathsom Vermin lie,
Some by the Rack, some by the Jav'lin die.
Thy Nero's and thy Maximins, O Rome,
And all the Spoilers which thy savage womb
Fruitful of Monsters ever yet brought forth,
Are all out-done by Clotar's single birth.
His unexampled Cruelties surpass
The Deeds of all thy Persecuting Race.
Ages to come will their weak Rage forget,
And only Clotar's Violence repeat.
They seem'd contented only to destroy,
And Death and Torment did their Fury cloy.
But none of all th'Inexorable kind
With Clotar's Genius Cruelty refin'd:
No Master Tyrant had so vast a reach
To find new Plagues, none so much Zeal to teach
His Ministers strange Methods to destroy,
None e'er before with such transporting joy
O'er tortur'd Innocents insulting stood,
None with such Pleasure bath'd himself in blood,
Or in Tormenting e'er such Judgment show'd.

What Monarch e'er before stood scoffing by,
To see his Subjects in slow Torments dy,
And told the Suff'rers there was no pretence
To blame such soft and gentle Violence:
Such mild inlight'ning Pains, that might display
O'er their Erroneous Minds Celestial Day.
All who these barb'rous Cruelties survive,
The bloody Ruffians to their Altar drive;
Down their Reluctant throats they thrust the Meat,
And force them of their Sacrifice to eat.
Conversions are by Arm'd Invaders made,
Who with resistless Arguments perswade:
Who for Conviction shed the People's blood
And ruin wretched Mortals for their Good.
The mocking Hypocrite's unjust pretence
Is, to reduce by Racks and Violence
Perverted Judgments to a righter Sense.
The Converts of the Sword Complyance show,
And full of horrour to their Idols bow;
By this they hope the Conq'rour's Sword to stay,
And to secure their Lives their Faith betray:
But that infernal Malice may be cloy'd,
That Soul and Body both may be destroy'd,
The Cruel Infidel with Sword in hand
O'er the new Convert do's triumphant stand:
Then in his Bowels do's the Weapon sheath,
Who loses both his Innocence and Breath,
Rack'd with the torments of Despair and Death.
Some sore distrest to Wilds and Desarts fly,
In Caves and Rocks, in Woods and Mountains ly.

While, like the Jews abandon'd Nation, some
Thro' Forreign Regions poor and naked roam.
What Kingdom is not conscious of our Moans?
Who have not seen our Tears, or heard our Groans?
Do's the laborious Sun survey a Soil,
In his Diurnal, or his Annual toil,
Which to our Fugitives ne'er gave Relief,
And never entertain'd our wandring Grief.

This is the Gallic Christians wretched fate,
Which not the liv'liest Accents can relate.
And now the Moon twice dips her silver horns,
And with fresh rays her changing face adorns;
Since I, and these sad Friends together met,
Resolving from Lutetia to retreat,
And seek in Forreign Climes a milder seat.
Then while our Country's fate we did lament,
And flowing Tears gave to our sorrow vent;
A glorious Form like some Inferior God,
Newly descended from his blest abode
Entring the Room, Celestial Lustre spread
From his Immortal Eyes, and radiant Head.
A Heav'nly bloom adorn'd his youthful Face,
And Starry Robes did his bright Limbs embrace:
When first the Lovely Stranger did appear,
We bow'd with Rev'rence, and we shook with fear.
Then strait th'Illustrious Person silence broke,
And thus my trembling Friends and me bespoke.

The God who rules as well the spacious Sky,
As this low Ball, who from his Throne on high
Encompass'd with impenetrable Day,
Do's all his Worlds with one quick glance survey;
Who loves the Proud and Haughty to debase,
And sets the Meek and Humble in their place;
Touch'd with Compassion hears your mournful Crys,
Which mixt with dying groans to Heav'n arise.
He now Decrees th'Oppressor Clotar's fall,
Whose full grown Crimes for swift Destruction call:
For tho' his Vengefull Thunder rises slow,
'Tis to discharge a more tremendous blow.
Indulgent Heav'n by Arthur's hand has broke
Britannia's Fetters, and Tyrannic Yoke.
His Pious Arms shall case Lutetia's Pains,
Release her Sons, and break their pondrous Chains.
This Great Deliv'rer shall Europa save,
Which haughty Monarchs labour to enslave.
Then shall Religion reer her starry head,
And Light Divine o'er all the Nations spread.
Quickly embark and steer for Albion's Shore
To seek King Arthur, and his Aid implore.
Your prayer shall move, that Pity in his breast;
Which shall engage his Arms to give you rest.
He said, and strait the glorious Youth withdrew,
Display'd his shining Wings, and Upward flew.

Cheer'd with his words we with our utmost care
Did all things for the Voyage soon prepare.

When thrice the Sun had his mild splendor shed,
And o'er the East Etherial purple spred:
We all embarkt, and soon to Albion's Coast
Born with a prosp'rous Gale the Ocean crost.
Thus the Celestial Message we obey'd,
Sent by Supream Command, to crave your Aid.

He ceas'd. King Arthur carefully supprest
The generous Passion struggling in his breast.
He look'd on this as on a Call Divine
Which did this noble Enterprize enjoyn,
The Gallic Christians Freedom to restore,
And give that Aid the Suff'rers did implore.
Then to the Franks the Briton thus reply'd,
Your Prayer is neither granted, nor deny'd:
What you have now propos'd I'll duly weigh,
And then my Answer give without delay.
The Franks withdrawn, the Hero order gave
That Neustria's Lords should next Admission have:
Soon as the Monarch did the Neustrians see,
He strait discern'd these were the other three,
Who in the Heav'nly Dream the Night before
To give them Aid his Pity did implore.
They to the Throne advanc'd when thus begun
Wise Oleron Giranda's Noble Son.

Victorious Prince!
We know what Miracles your Arms have shown
In Neustria's Soil, what greater in your own.

From East to West loud fame extends her Wings,
And thro' th'applauding World your triumph sings.
Your mighty Deeds by wondring Moors are nam'd,
From Zone to Zone, from Pole to Pole proclaim'd.
Commiseration fills your Pious Breast
To wretched States by heavy Yokes opprest.
Mov'd by the groans of dying Liberty,
You arm'd to set afflicted Europe free.
You are by Heav'n a great Deliverer sent,
The World's entire Destruction to prevent.
Empires from Desolation to secure,
From savage Rage, and wild unbounded Power.
From all the dire Calamities that reign
Where no fixt Laws th'Oppressor's Lust restrain.
The wasted World has long with servent Crys,
With groans, and tears sollicited the Skys,
To give fierce Tyranny a fatal stroke,
To break her Murd'ring Teeth, and Iron Yoke:
With th'universal prayer kind Heav'n complies,
Causing so great a Monarch to arise,
Whose Soul is bent to stay the Fury's course,
And whose Herculean Arm alone exceeds her force.
In vain with rage her turgid Volumes swell,
In vain around her womb her Monsters Yell,
You all the Hydra's hissing heads despise,
All her wide Jaws, sharp Tongues, and fiery Eyes.
Your mighty Arm will give the deadly wound,
And leave th'expiring Monster on the ground.
Fertile in Death your Sword Destruction spreads
Fast as her fruitful Necks can bring forth heads.

Besides you lead a Nation brave in Fight
Pleas'd to procure to injur'd States their Right.
When such a Prince with such a People takes
The Field in arms, the pale Oppressor shakes.
In Liberty's defence the warmest Zeal
The nobly Jealous Britons still reveal;
Asserting with their Lives her sacred Cause,
They justly gain th'admiring World's applause.
While neigh'bring Nations Tyrants never check,
But bow to take the Yoke, their passive Neck;
The Britons stem Ambitions rapid course,
Defeating secret frauds, and open force.
Designing Princes still they have withstood,
To Guard the Rights, bought by their Fathers Blood
But Liberty which they to Lifep refer,
Could not escape the Saxon Ravisher.
Rifled and spoil'd of all her Heav'nly Charms,
She had expir'd in the rough Conq'rour's Arms;
And Albion soon had shar'd her Neighbours fate,
And felt the Mischiefs of a slavish State:
Had not your generous Arms and noble Toyl,
Sav'd from Destruction this despairing Isle.
Had you not chas'd Tyrannic Lords away,
And from their griping Arms releas'd the trembling Prey.
Blest Isle! that in the lowest Ebb of fate,
Found this strong Arm to prop her sinking State.
Happy Britannia, did thy Sons but know,
What to their brave Deliverer they owe!

And now, Dread Monarch, whose victorious Arms
Have freed Britannia from her Foes alarms;
Whose great Example do's her Sons inflame
To aim at Glory, and their ancient Fame;
Unhappy Neustria by her Prince betray'd,
Implores Deliv'rance from your pow'rful Aid.
Scarce had you sail'd from grateful Neustria's Shore,
Which ne'er receiv'd so great a Guest before,
Where first your Sword Immortal Laurels won,
And the first Triumphs of your Youth begun:
When suddain Death, King Odar did remove,
From Neustria's throne to the blest Seats above.
Sardan his Brother to his Crown Succeeds,
Not to his Vertues, and Illustrious Deeds.
This Prince Luxurious, and Effeminate,
Averse to Arms, and Business of the State,
Do's Vertue more than Arms, of Business hate.
Uninterupted Riots only please.
His Mind dissolv'd in long inglorious Ease.
While Neighb'ring Kings their Course of Glory run,
With Laurels crown'd from Vanquish'd Nations won:
Ours Baccanalian wreaths can only boast,
Only the Triumphs of his mighty Lust.
Our Wives and Noblest Virgins are abus'd,
Compell'd by force, or by his wiles seduc'd.
Lascivious Concubines their Prince surround,
They're in his Bed, and in his Counsels found.
These Female Ministers by turns create
Our Judges, Captains, Officers of State:

Our Priests themselves their vile submission make
To the soft Fav'rites, for Promotion's sake.
Jesters for Statemen in his Council sit,
Not chosen for their Wisdom, but their Wit;
Empty Buffoons, unequal to the weight
Of all th'important Business of the State.
Those Ministers he thinks can serve him best,
Who flatter most, and know their Business least:
Who all Debates to please their Prince decide,
And from the People's Intrest, his divide.
This feeble Race attends this Monarch's Throne,
Whose Wit and Vice resemble most his own.
Th'Augean Stables, cleaner than the Court,
Whither the Vicious and the Lewd resort;
Th'infectious Plague by Sardan's Influence fed,
Do's o'er our Noble Youth resistless spred.
Poets the most Flagitious, and Prophane,
Neustria e'er fed, his bounty do's maintain.
Who by their Wit procure to Vice applause,
And loud Derision draw on Vertue's Cause.
They easy Nature with fit Baits excite,
And Youth to Crimes too prone before, invite.
By artful Eloquence they strive to show
Those Pleasures Lawful, which they wish were so.
Against their Country they their Wit engage,
Refine our Language, but corrupt the Age.
Our Noble Youth enervated with Vice,
Abhor the Field and Martial Fame despise.
The Sacred Muses, and the Letter'd Train
They Mock, and Camps and Schools alike disdain.

Riot, Debauch, Masks and Unmanly Sport,
Are all the Triumphs our soft Hero's Court.
Sardan all marks of Lust of Empire gave;
None more desir'd his Country to Enslave:
But the designing Monarch was afraid
With open force, our Freedom to invade.
His want of Courage his Ambition checkt,
And his strong Fears his People did Protect.
Oft on the Banks of Rubicon he stood,
But ne'er was bold enough to leap the Flood:
But that with crafty Arts he might prevail,
And undermine the Fort, he durst not Scale:
That those he could not force he might decoy,
He labour'd Neustria's Vertue to destroy.
His great design was to Emasculate
Our Martial Youth, and then destroy the State.
Thus he believ'd he might Neustrasia bring,
Beneath the Yoke of Gaul's aspiring King.
Whose growing Power he did with pleasure view,
And gave him Aid his Neighbours to subdue.
Whence he contracted Everlasting Shame,
And future Ages must despise his name.
So ill he wish'd to the Neustrasian State,
So much he courted Clotar's prosp'rous Fate,
That to advance the Triumphs of his Crown,
He sacrific'd the Int'rests of his own.
He therefore sent to Clotar to demand,
A force sufficient to subdue the Land.
Clotar whose num'rous Armys ready lay,
Watching a season fit to seize the Prey,

Invades our Coasts, and soon was Master made
Of our strong Places to his hands betray'd.
Thus did he force Neustrasia to obey
A Neighb'ring Monarch's Arbitrary Sway.
Sardan was pleas'd so Neustria was undone
To wear himself a Tributary Crown.
Since that, our Land the worst of Plagues torment,
Which Power could e'er inflict, or Wit invent.
This mighty Prince is our Afflicted State,
These the deep Suff'rings, which our Grief create.

We pray by that Immortal Fame you won,
By all your Wonders in Neustrasia done:
We pray by yours, we pray by Odar's name,
And by your ancient Friendship's sacred flame:
To Neustria's Sons their ravish'd Rights restore,
And free her Soil from cruel Clotar's Power.
From her gaul'd Neck remove th'uneasy Yoke,
Only by Valiant Arthur to be broke.

He ceas'd. The King from his high Throne descends,
Mov'd with Compassion to his ancient Friends.
Declaring e'er he rose, he would prepare
A speedy answer to th'important prayer.

Twice on the World the Sun his beams bestow'd,
And twice his glorious tyde had ebb'd, and flow'd:
When Franks and Neustrians at the King's Command
Call'd to attend before his Throne did stand,

The Pious Monarch this kind answer made
To these sad Strangers who had crav'd his aid.
The Christians Suff'rings by Tyrannic might
Against the Laws of Heav'n, and civil Right,
All who with kindly to Mankind lament,
And Christian Kings more deeply must resent.
My Troops I'll therefore for the Neustrian Shore
Embark, your Rights and Freedoms to restore.
Where if propitious Heav'n affords us Aid,
Our Arms shall next the haughty Frank invade.

He ceas'd, the Captains did for Arms declare
Nobly impatient of the Righteous War.
Heroic Ardor all their Vitals warm'd,
And on the Plains the must'ring Cohorts swarm'd.
A War with Gaul so much, so long desir'd
The joyful Britons with fresh Life inspir'd.
Long had they wish'd to see on Britain's Throne
A warlike Prince, one that himself would own
To be the Christians chief Protecting Head,
VVho would the British Troops to Gallia lead.
Indulgent Heav'n at last their wishes grants,
Raising a Prince who answers all their wants.
One that to Albion's eager Youth will show
The Gallic Fields, and their old haughty Foe.
Each brandishes his Spear, his Fauchion weilds,
And seems already in Lutetia's Fields.
The Noise of Arms and marching Soldiers toyl
And Warlike Preparations fill the Isle.

The Trumpet's Voice do's Britain's Sons excite,
And waving Banners to the Field invite.
The Shepherd on the Hills his Flock forsakes,
Casts by his Crook, and the bright Javelin takes.
The Husbandman do's from his labour leap,
To plough the Seas, and Gallic Laurels reap.
He beats his Ploughshares into Helms and Shields,
Deserts his Harvest, and his flowry Fields,
Neglects his Tillage, and his Rural Gains,
To plant with British Spears Parisian Plains.
The Lords forsake their Woods, and Sylvan Sport,
And from the Forrest to the Camp resort.
They leave the Mountains, and the flying Game
To follow Honour, and Immortal Fame.
Some few Inglorious Youths for Arms unfit
Refus'd the Pleasures of the Stage to quit.
Who only War in Theaters have seen,
And Camps and Battles only on the Scene.
Fit only shows and Laurels to prepare
For Arthur come victorious from the War:
To run, and shout amidst th'applauding throng,
As Britain's Sons in Triumph pass along.
Refulgent Arms Augusta's Merchants weild
And to the busy Change prefer the Field.
These brave Adventurers in the noble War,
Will Honour fetch, as well as Wealth from far.
Some mount their Steeds, and to the Field advance,
Some shake the Spear, and some the Warlike Lance.
Part arm'd with feather'd Death their Quivers throw
Across their Shoulders, and new string their Bow.

Some round their Necks the martial Coslet clasp,
Some the broad Shield, and glitt'ring Javelin grasp.
Part on their heads the burnish'd Helmet lace,
And all in Plate their vig'rous Limbs encase.

The Royal Fleet with equal hast and care,
The rigid Captains of the Sea prepare.
The craggy Rocks and crooked Shores around
With labour, and promiscuous crys resound.
The Saylor's toil fills every Beach and Strand,
And the Sea-Clamours vye with those by Land.
Some from their Magazines draw Naval Stores,
Long trembling Masts, and Cordage to the Shores.
Some in the Hills with loud repeated strokes,
Dismember nodding Pines and groaning Oaks.
The lifted Axe thro' all the Mountain sounds
To heal the Navy's with the Forest's Wounds.
For Masts, and Planks, they fell the fairest Trees,
The rest, for supplemental Ribs and Knees.
They draw the Spoils from the dishonour'd Wood,
Whose Trees, that once fixt and unshaken stood,
Must now find Wings to fly upon the Flood.
Some from wide Bellows mouths whole Tempests blow,
To make vast Anchors in the Forges glow;
Then choak'd with flame and smoke, and smear'd with sweat,
Vulcanian Youth the Red-hot Iron beat.
Some on the Strand Careen, and fresh adorn
The Ships grown foul, and with their labour worn.
Some new ones Launch, which with surprising Art
From all their Bands, and Wooden Fetters start:

They break away, and from their Cradles flee
Now to be rock'd upon the restless Sea.
Some carry Arms, and Warlike Stores aboard,
Some in the Ship's deep Caves Provisions hoard.
Whole Herds of fatted Swine and Oxen dy,
The Ships capacious Bellys to supply,
Furnish'd by old Polcaran's toilsom care,
The first that cloy'd the hungry mouth of War.

Then all th'expected Equipage on Board,
Their Topsails loos'd, and all the Ships unmoor'd;
The Royal Navy on the Billows rode,
And prest with heavy War th'uneasie Flood.
The fierce Commanders stand in awful State,
On their high Decks, and Arthur's coming wait.
The Monarch with his valiant Troops arrives,
And strait t'embark his Army order gives.
The British Cohorts at the King's Command,
Mount their tall Ships, and long for Neustrian Land.
Loud Boreas to extend the spacious Sails,
From Northern Prisons frees his chosen Gales,
All bold and vig'rous, and refresh'd with ease,
All vers'd in toil, and conscious of the Seas.
These swell the Canvass with their utmost force,
And strait to Neustria's Shore direct their course.
The panting Winds to shove the Navy strain,
And of the Squadrons weight in Sighs complain,
The Labour of the Air, and Burden of the Main.
The bounding Castles on the Billows dance,
And in long Order on the Deep advance.

While wanton Dolphins round the Squadrons play,
And sporting Course each other o'er the Sea.
Huge Porpoises and the great Lords that reign
O'er all the Scaly People of the Main,
Attend the Navy with an endless train.
The Finny Murd'rers that the Deep infest,
Forsake their Prey, and give the Ocean rest:
VVhile they at distance gaze, and fawning roll
To Court the Prince who do's their Seas controul;
Fearing the great Deliv'rer came to free
The watry Nations too from Tyranny.

On the high Cliffs in throngs the Neustrians stood,
And on the Sandy Margin of the Flood,
Advanc'd, as far as VVaves permit, to meet
Europe's Restorer and his Potent Fleet.
And when they saw, the Navy under Sail
Advancing to them with a prosp'rous Gale,
VVith such loud Shouts they made the Mountains ring,
As sunk the Winds which should their wishes bring.
So Thund'ring Cannons, when two Fleets engage,
With their loud roar the angry Seas asswage,
Awe list'ning Winds, and calm their weaker rage.
King Arthur's Navy made the Neustrian Land,
And strait the Britons leap'd upon the Strand:
Their warlike Ensigns on the Hills display'd
Declare th'arrival of th'expected Aid.

Now Muse the Names of those great Hero's sing,
And mighty Chiefs, who with the British King

On this illustrious Expedition went,
And pitch'd in Neustrian Fields the warlike Tent.

Shobar was first, sprung from a Noble Line,
Which dwelt upon the Banks of rapid Rhine.
His martial Genius early did appear,
Danger he knew, but knew not how to fear.
Eager of fame he fought with studious care
Battles, and Camps, and all the Seats of War.
His valiant Deeds won Universal Fame,
And every Soil his Triumphs did proclaim.
His mighty Name was thro' Europa spread,
All Armys strove to have him for their head,
For those were sure of Conquest, which he led.
A noble Fire did in his Veins abide,
And the severest Wisdom was its Guide.
His Camp the only School of War was thought,
Which all young Hero's for Instruction sought,
For none had Martial Art to such Perfection brought.
But worn with Labour, Battles, Camps, and Age
The Hoary Warriour left the bloody Stage.
Back to his Fields, and Rural Seat he came
Laden with Laurels and Immortal Fame.
Resolving, far remov'd from noise and strife,
To spend in Peace his short Remains of Life.
But when he heard how Arthur's Arms were prais'd,
And what a great Restorer Heav'n had rais'd,
Nations oppress'd from Bondage to release,
And to procure to suff'ring Christians, Ease,

The Pious Chief resumes his Sword and Shield,
And once again resolves to take the Field.
The ancient Warriour felt a youthful flame,
And from the Rhine to find King Arthur came.
Arthur who knew what Deeds he had atchiev'd,
With high respect the brave Old Man receiv'd.
He always to his Counsels did attend,
Call'd him his Father, and his Faithful Friend.

Next mighty Solmar who was near ally'd
To pious Arthur by the Mother's side;
Who by his Strength and Skill in Arms had won
Authority, Esteem, and great Renown,
Brother to Meridoc, of glorious fame
With th'Ordovician youth to Arthur came,

Next faithful Lucius Arthur's fav'rite Knight,
An able Statesman, and as brave in Fight.
Who from his Youth his Monarch serv'd and lov'd,
And in the greatest Streights his Zeal approv'd,
No Servant from a Monarch e'er before
Receiv'd more Love, and none deserv'd it more;
He the Silures from their Country led,
O'er whom the King had plac'd him as their head.

The stout Cornavians to engage the Foes,
The Region left where fam'd Sabrina flows.
The fertile Soil where Etocetum stands,
And which obeys Branonium's high Commands.
Some left Presidium still a noble Town,
And the rich Soil, that did her Empire own.

And some the Citys, that on Dovus lay,
And where fair Deva do's her Streams convey,
Thro' smiling Vallys to th'Hibernian Sea.
The Atrebatian and Dobunian Lords
Brought their Battalions from Sabrina's Fords.
And from the Soil where Ouze and Tama meet,
The Muses Garden now, and high Imperial Seat:
Prince Osor worthy of his noble Line,
Whose mighty Deeds in Albion's story shine,
Warm with a generous and Heroic flame,
Fearless of Death, and fond of warlike Fame,
Zealous to give the suff'ring Christian rest,
To break th'Oppressor, and defend th'Opprest
Into the field these Various Nations brought,
Who arm'd with Spears, and Battle Axes fought.
Osor so high in Arthur's Favour stood
For Martial Vertue, and Illustrious Blood,
That he the Youth to ancient Chiefs prefer'd,
And Gen'ral of the Cavalry declar'd.

Malgo King Arthur's Master of the Horse
Fam'd for his Courage, and his wondrous force,
Whose Courteous Manners and Deportment won
No less Applauses, than his Sword had done,
The brave Dimetians to the Army led,
All valiant Troops to warlike labour bred.
The Trinobantes with the Region blest,
Which the Victorious Saxon once possest,
Left the Delightful Banks of Thamisis,
The Seat of Plenty and Terrestrial Bliss.

They left Augusta which by Arthur's Sword
To Truth divine, to Right, and Law restor'd,
From Pagan Gods, and from th'Oppressor freed,
Reer'd up to Heav'n her high Imperial head:
For stately Domes and lofty Tow'rs renown'd,
With Arts and Arms, and Wealth and Empire crown'd.
Capellan valu'd for his Youthful Charms,
For his high Birth, and forward Zeal in Arms:
The warlike Deeds of whose Illustrious Line,
As well as Suff'rings, in our Annals shine,
Into the field the Trinobantes led,
And shone in splendid Armour at their head.
Some bore the glitt'ring Spear, and some the Bow
All bold in Arms, and pleas'd to meet the Foe.

The warlike Youth rul'd by Icenian Lords,
Some arm'd with Halberts, some with two edg'd Swords,
Left all the Citys which adorn the Coast,
Where the Germanic Ocean's waves are tost.
The Catuclaxian Cohorts left the Soil,
That lay the inmost of the British Isle.
Those who in Lactodorum did reside,
Which Usa's Stream did in the midst divide.
And those who all the Region round possest
Adorn'd with Citys, and with Riches blest.
These valiant Squadrons arm'd with Slings and Bows,
Brave Talmar led to charge the Gallic Foes.
A truly martial, but impetuous Fire
Did with immoderate heat his breast inspire.

Nobly impatient of unbounded Power,
He strove Britannia's Freedom to secure.
A brave Assertor of her ancient Laws,
Of Pious Arthur's, and the Christian Cause.
Onwards he always prest, and Danger sought,
Patient of toyl, and fearless to a fau't.
His Courteous Manners, easy, free Address,
Th'indulgent care he did for all express
Providing due supplys for all their Wants,
And kindly hearing all their just Complaints.
Made the brave Chief the British Youths Delight
Of Arthur's Camp the most applauded Knight.

The Ottadenians left Alaunus flood,
Near which the famous Roman Bullwark stood,
Rais'd with prodigious labour to protect
The Frontier, from th'Jernian, and the Pict.
With these the stout Brigantes who confin'd
On th'Ottadenian Towns, their Ensigns joyn'd.
They from Galatum on Ituna's Stream,
And from delightful Aballaba came.
With these appear'd the fierce Arbeian Youth,
And those who dwelt near Moricambe's Mouth.
Fair Gabrosentum did her Squadrons send,
As did the Towns that on her Power depend.
The Troops Mancunium left, and all the Fields
To which Merseia verdant Riches yields.

These Maca led a Caledonian Knight,
Long vers'd in Arms, Sedate, yet brave in Fight.

He still advanc'd by Military Rule,
Vig'rous in Action, but in Counsel cool.
He all the British Captains did out-shine
For pure Devotion, Zeal and Love divine.
Just, Upright, Faithful, and with Vice unstain'd
Eu'n in a Camp the Pious Chief remain'd:
And nobler heats Religion do's inspire,
Than what from Honour spring, and native Fire.
These aim at transient Empire and Renown,
But those at Heav'n, and an Immortal Crown.

Coril a valiant Durotrigian Knight,
Who ever made the Camp his chief delight;
A great Commander, to the Soldier dear,
Void of all Pride, uncapable of Fear,
Brought his bold Troops from Durnavaria's Fields,
With mighty Fauchions Arm'd, and spacious Shields.

The Regnian Troops came from the Hilly Land,
Which lies direct against the Neustrian Strand.
From all the Citys, Castles, and the Towns,
Or in the Vales, or in the airy Downs
Which stretch on great Augusta's Southern side,
Between the Ocean, and fair Isis tyde.
With these the Belgian Britons did unite,
Who did in Battles and in Camps delight.
These came from Venta, and the Citys found
On the delightful Plains which lye around.
Great Cutar Viceroy of fair Vecta's Isle,
Brought these Battalions from their native Soil.

A generous Impulse, and a noble Flame
Urg'd the brave Man to seek Immortal Fame.
Ravish'd with War's and Danger's horrid Charms,
He with impetuous Ardor flew to Arms.
Triumphant Conquerors with their Laurels crown'd,
Not more delight, than he in Combate found.
He midst the Foe the hottest Battle sought,
And grown with Death familiar, fearless fought.
His strong desire of Arms was never cloy'd,
With such a Relish Danger he enjoy'd.
Soon as the rang'd Battalions came in sight,
He felt fierce Joy, and terrible Delight,
And shudder'd with his eagerness to Fight.
What flames flew from his Eyes, when he from far
View'd the sowr Brows, and murth'ring Jaws of War?
He midst the Heros was for Valour fam'd,
And midst the Bards, with envy'd Honour nam'd.
He by his matchless Song, as well as Sword
The Laurel gain'd, and loud Applause procur'd.

The Cangian Britons left the wealthy Soil,
Which with abundance crowns the Farmer's toil.
Where fair Uzella rolls her noble tyde,
And o'er the Meads unfolds her silver pride.
They left the Citys rais'd on Thona's flood,
And on the Fields round Coitmaur's spacious Wood.
From all the Towns round airy Camelot,
Which bears the name even now, of Arthur's seat;
Where winding Bruis with her lazy Stream
Surrounds Glascona's Isle, where antient fame

Has plac'd the Seat of th'Arimathean Saint,
Who first in Albion did Religion plant:
Which do's with pious Sepulchers abound,
And where King Arthur's blest Remains were found.
From high Mendippa and the spacious Plains
Blest with rich Entrails, and Metallic veins.
Where rapid Floods flow roaring under ground,
Where the fam'd Grotto Ochi Hol is found;
Which do's Parthenope all thine out-do,
That of Lucullus, and the Sybils too.
The warlike Youth from Aqua Solis came,
Whose wholsom Baths give Sinews to the Lame.
Their Healing Power the wise affirm proceeds,
From unform'd Minerals, and Metallic Seeds,
Which wash'd away from Subterranean Caves
Impregnate with their Heat the flowing Waves.
Whether these Seeds which in the Water strive,
Or some good Angel do's the Vertue give,
'Tis sure that Health and Vigour they impart
Above the reach of Æsculapian Art.
Witness the Spoils and Trophys which are shown
From vanquish'd Death, and from Diseases won.
Erla of Lands of great extent possest,
With Ease, with Honour, with Abundance blest,
By Pity mov'd, and martial Ardor warm'd,
To aid th'opprest Lutetian Christians Arm'd.
For Danger, and for Honourable toil
He left his Ease, his Wealth, and Native Soil.

The bold Danmonians did attend their Lord,
Each took his Shield and wav'd his threat'ning Sword.
Active and vig'rous they advanc'd their Names
By Wrestling, Whorlbat, old Heroic Games.
They left the Southern, and the Northern Shore,
Where British Seas, or where th'Hibernian roar.
Th'undaunted Youth from fair Tamara came,
And from the Flood that gave the Town its name.
They left Voluba, and Cenonis Mouth,
The most applauded Haven of the South.
They left the Banks of Isca and the Town
For Commerce, Wealth, and Power, of great renown.
These mighty Men to warlike labour bred,
Came from their hilly Land by Trelon led.
For old indulgent Cador at his Death
To Pious Arthur did his Realm bequeath.
Viceroy of which King Arthur Trelon made,
Whom the Danmonians as their Head obey'd.
His Martial Vertue do's in Story Shine,
A Vertue common to his ancient Line:
For Trelon's Noble House was so renown'd,
For mighty Deeds, that none was ever found
Who wanted Valour, or did e'er debase
By one inglorious Deed the Martial Race!
True Eagles they, when Infants, could behold
A Burnish'd Helm, or blazing Shield of Gold:
Ev'n then no horrid object mov'd their fear,
And their first play was with a Sword, or Spear.

The Coritanians left the Towns that stood,
Along the Banks of swift Aufona's flood.
Their Squadrons left the fat and fertile Land,
Where Verometum's Tow'rs and Raga's stand.
Where Margidunum from the Mountain's brow
Proudly surveys the wide stretcht Vale below.
Where Lindum reers her antient, awful head,
By all the Fenny Region round obey'd.
Where famous Pontis stood an ancient Town
By Roman Coins and checker'd Pavements known:
Brave Stannel patient of Heroic toil,
Sprung from a Race of Kings whom Mona's Isle
Insulted by the wild Hibernian Sea,
But blest with temp'rate Empire, did obey:
Who always for his Country bravely fought,
To Neustrian Fields the Coritanians brought.

The valiant Youth advanc'd their warlike Ranks
From noble Abum's, and Darventio's Banks.
Some from Calcaria came, from Danum some,
Some from the Tow'rs of high Eboracum.
Gotric a Chief Majestic, Awful, Grave,
Wise in the Senate, and in Battle brave;
Of unstain'd Honour, and uncommon worth,
Brought in these bold Brigantes from the North.
All Men of Courage and of subtile Wit,
All for the Camp, and some for Counsel fit.

The warlike Squadrons from Meldunum came,
Almost encompass'd by Antona's Stream.

From old Verlucio, and the fertile Land,
Where Leckham now, and ancient Cosam stand:
Cosam, with Plenty blest and temp'rate Air,
To me a Soil above all others dear.
The valiant Youth from Sorbiodunum came,
Of all their Towns the Chief, in Power and Fame.
Whose gilded Domes and Towers amidst the Sky,
With all but those of great Augusta vy.
Around her Walls lie stretcht the famous Plains,
Which Eccho with the toil of joyful Swains,
Where happy Shepherds with more Flocks are blest,
Than the Sicilian Mountains e'er possest;
Who fill the Air with loud, and sweeter Lays
Than those which once did fam'd Arcadia raise.
They left the Bourns, and all the fertile Plain
Where the high Monument do's still remain
Of Albion's Lords by Saxon Treach'ry slain.
An awful Pile wondrous in every part,
Not wholly wrought by Nature, nor by Art.
The Stones are all of such prodigious weight,
And raise their heads to such amazing height,
Such is the Structure's rude Magnificence,
And proud Disorder, that it makes pretence
To be Gigantic work, wherein are shown
High Rocks on Rocks with careless labour thrown.
Where now th'admiring Trav'ller may behold
What mighty Men Britannia bred of Old.
They left Cunetio still a noble Town
Rais'd on a fair, delightful, spacious Down,

Which over-looks the Vale, whose fruitful Crops
Out-do the greedy Farmer's utmost hopes.
Vebba a Cangian Chief of great Renown,
Who by his Arms had frequent Laurels won;
A Leader worthy of the high Command,
Brought to King Arthur's Camp this Cangian Band.
These mighty Warriors from the British Isle,
Attended Arthur to his Foreign toil.

BOOK II.

Strait thro' the neighb'ring Citys welcom Fame
King Arthur's Landing did aloud proclaim.
The Neustrain Youth by Gallic Power opprest,
Reviving Hopes, and wondrous joy exprest.
In shouting throngs they left the Oazy Coast,
And Inland Towns to joyn King Arthur's Host.
They came from Juliobana and the Land
Which Breviodunum's Castles did Command.
From all the Towers and pleasant Towns that stood
On the sweet Banks of fam'd Sequana's flood.
Gomar and Rollo two illustrions Lords
Whose Deeds adorn Neustrasia's old Records;
Who lov'd their Country and its Freedom sought,
To joyn the Briton their Battalions brought.
Arthur advanc'd, and all Neustrasia's Fields
Shone bright with polish'd Helms and blazing Shields.
The Host in warlike Columns took the way
To the rich Fields where Rotomagum lay.

Mean time the Gauls who Neustria's Soil possest
By Sardan entertain'd, and much carest,
Did Arthur's fame and valiant Army dread,
Deserted Neustria, and to Clotar fled.

With these inglorious Sardan, who the sight
Of Swords and Spears detested, took his Flight.
Arthur did soon the Gallic Frontier gain,
And lay encamp'd along Lutetia's Plain.

There stood a Dome whose Pinnacles did rise
Above the Clouds, and enter'd far the Skys,
Surveying proud Lutetia far and wide,
Which aw'd the Nations with Imperial pride.
Along the flowry Banks the City stood
Where silver Sein rolls down her noble flood.
The Prince of Darkness from the Temple's head
View'd Arthur's Army o'er the Vally spread.
Enormous Rage distended every vein,
And all Hell's Furys o'er his Breast did reign.
Swoln with Revenge his blood-shot Eyes did glare
Like Ruddy Meteors blazing in the Air!
He gnash'd his Teeth and his black Brows he bent;
Then thus he spake to give his Anger vent.

How great and wide is my Imperial Sway,
Whom all the Peers of Hell's dark Realms obey?
I over all th'Aerial Powers preside,
Who raise loud Storms, and on wild Whirlwinds ride.
These Powers at my Command the World Assail
With blended Ruin, Thunder, Rain and Hail.
All the dire Ministers of Death and Hell
That chain'd in gloomy Prisons howl and yell;
All the fierce Furys fly at my Command,
To spoil a Town, or wast a fruitful Land.

My hollow Caves and Magazins contain
Endless variety of Grief and Pain.
Where panting Thirst with ghastly Famine dwells,
And pois'nous Damps in raw unwholsom Cells
Engender livid Plagues; where how to moan
Sad Grief first learnt, and Torment how to groan.
Here uninstructed Death first learnt her Arts,
First strung her Bows, and pointed first her Darts.
These all obey me, in my Court beside,
Haughty Ambition, Riot, Lust and Pride,
Revenge and Envy my Domesticks dwell,
My fav'rite Plagues, that all the rest excel,
And vastly have enlarg'd the power of Hell.
These always foremost in my Troops appear,
And for my following Plagues the passage clear.
These make th'Assault, and all my Furys teach
To mount the Walls where they have made the Breach.
Their mighty Triumphs and Victorious fame
Kingdoms laid wast and ruin'd Worlds proclaim.
What blest Destruction have th'Invaders spred
O'er Christian Realms by me their Monarch led?
What States have they attack'd and not prevail'd,
Who have escap'd their Arts, if Power has fail'd?
And shall this Briton still advance his Arms,
And shake my Temples with his proud alarms?
Shall he my Priests from my high Altars chase,
And dispossess the Franks Victorious Race,
Who such a Passion for my Empire show,
And are so dear to all the Powers below?

Shall this fair City, this new Babilon,
This other nobler Rome, this pious Town,
Where all in prostrate Adoration ly
Before our Shrines, and for Protection cry,
Where with such strains of pure Devotion all
Our Temples fill, and us their Guardians call;
Shall Arthur's impious Arms this Town deface
And thro her Streets in haughty Triumph pass?
Shall the proud Christian this fair Region gain?
Expel my Franks, and o'er Lutetia reign?
Shall these sweet Vineyards, this delightful Soil
With a rich Vintage crown the Briton's toil?
Then I in vain Immortal vigor boast,
My Scepter's gone, and all my Empire lost.
All will Revolt who now obey my Laws,
And Rome her self desert my righteous Cause.
Nor Vot'rys here, nor Subjects will below,
To me, as to their God, or Monarch bow.
By any means, by Stratagem, or Force,
I must arrest th'ambitious Briton's Course.
If all Hell's Power thy Empire can sustain,
Lutetia, thou thy Greatness shalt maintain.
But whether Force or Fraud we shall employ
In this Conjuncture Arthur to destroy,
Must be debated and consider'd well,
On this I must Consult the Powers of Hell.

He said, and strait th'enrag'd Arch-Traytor flys
To Hell's Abyss, and leaves the Crystal Skys.

As when an Eagle from a Mountain's head
Surveys the flowry Vale around him spread,
And sees a Snake along the Meadow play
Enliven'd with the Spring's reviving Ray;
The Eagle stoops down from the Mountain's top,
And in a moment takes the Viper up:
The twining Beast his crooked Pounces bear
Wriggling and hissing swiftly thro' the Air.
So swift a flight the wing'd Apostate made,
And in a moment reach'd th'Infernal Shade.
High on the gloomy Banks of Lethe's flood
The haughty Monarch's awful Palace stood;
Built with Angelic Art and cost immense,
With fearful Pomp, and vast Magnificence.
The lofty Roof, amazing to behold,
Was all of burnish'd, fine, Tartarean Gold,
Which dismal Glory did around display
Thro' the Dun Air, and made a hideous Day.
The high rais'd Pillars were of Stygian Jet,
Of Doric Order in high Ranges set.
The Walls were Marble, streak'd with bloody stains
And Azure intermixt with Purple veins.
Around thick Groves of shady Cypress grew,
O'er which prodigious Bats, and croking Ravens flew.
Poppys the Gardens bore, and Hollioaks,
Henbane, and Nightshade and unwholsom Box.

Hither the summon'd Spirits did resort,
And with their numbers fill'd their Prince's Court.

Th'Assembly made a murm'ring hollow sound,
Like that of Torrents rolling under ground;
But all the busy Spirits, when they saw
Their Monarch enter, with a silent Awe
Attentive waited, he ascends his Throne,
Which high erected o'er the Assembly shone.
Then with a frowning Look yet haughty Air
He thus began. High States of Hell, th'Affair
Which now demands your Counsel, I'll declare.
Britannia's Monarch our Inveterate Foe,
Who do's such hatred to our Empire show,
Who has our Temples and our Groves laid wast,
Destroy'd our Vot'rys and our Shrines defac'd,
To storm Lutetia has the Ocean crost
And shakes our Altars with his impious Host.
All means yet us'd his Progress to oppose
Have fruitless been, the Briton greater grows.
He has eluded all our deep Designs
And now in Arms before Lutetia Shines.
Against her Towers his Ensigns are display'd,
And our fierce Franks are of his Fame afraid.
If by the Briton this fair City's won,
Gallia farewell, that Realm from Hell is gone.
There, we no more shall be as Gods ador'd,
No praise return'd, no more our Aid implor'd.
No Victims more shall at our Altars dye,
No Vot'rys more before us prostrate lye.
No more your Pamper'd Nostrils shall be fed
With fatty steams from burning Entrails spred.

No more you'll wanton in aspiring flames,
Nor revel more in blood of Goats and Rams.
In your high Groves you must no longer stay,
Nor in sweet Clouds of rising Incense play.
If Gallia's lost, Iberia may be too,
Ausonia next the Conqueror will subdue.
If this Success attends th'Ambitious Foe,
Illustrious Peers, say whither will you go?
If to the Frozen or the Burning Zone,
To Heats and Colds not much unlike your own.
Or shall we always here despairing ly,
Freeze on this Ice, or in these Burnings fry?
Shall we take up with this Infernal Shade,
Content no milder Regions to invade?
Did we such wondrous Labour undergo,
Such God-like Wit, and God-like Courage show,
To win this Province from th'Almighty Foe;
And shall we tamely yield the noble Spoil,
And just Reward of all our ancient toil?
Speak, Princes, how shall we Lutetia Aid,
Whether by Art or Power we shall invade
The British King; propound the likeliest way
To check his Arms, and his swift Progress stay.

He said, and straightway Belus rose, outdone
In Fierceness, Pride and Insolence by none
Of all th'Apostate Spirits, who combin'd
To take up Arms against th'Eternal Mind:
Who with th'Almighty for Dominion strove
Troubling with Civil War the Realms above.

Fir'd with excessive Rage he Silence broke,
And thus th'attentive Senators bespoke.

Prudent, Considering Spirits may destroy
Those whom their Arts and subtile Wiles decoy:
I hate your wise Expedients, I declare
For generous Arms, and honourable War.
Tricks amongst Angels must our fame debase,
And stain the Glory of our Heav'nly Race.
Our Mould's Divine, of pure Etherial Light,
We the first Offspring of Eternal Might.
An unextinguish'd flame dilates our Veins,
And thro' our Limbs Immortal Vigour reigns.
Shall such a Race to Shifts and Cunning fly,
And not on Power, and matchless Strength rely?
I scorn a sordid un-Angelic course,
Unworthy of our Birth, and of our Force.
In our first Wars what Courage did we show
Shaking the Throne of our Almighty Foe?
'Tis true we fell, but yet the glorious Field
Do's greater fame than thousand Conquests yield
Won from Created, Vulgar Enemys;
Great was th'Attempt, and bold the Enterprise.
Success we wanted, but the brave Design
In Heav'n's and Hell's Records shall ever shine.
And shall we think our Strength and Courage less,
And by our Shifts our Impotence confess?
That which perhaps may Cautious Spirits damp
Is this, that drawn out round the British Camp

Of the Seraphic Guards a Party stands,
Which Michael our old Enemy Commands.
We know this Hallelujah singing Host,
Who such Devotion and Religion boast:
Who look on us, Curse on their Gracious Sect
As Reprobates, with scorn and proud neglect.
They would not with our Arms their Forces joyn,
T'assert our Right, and gain our high Design.
They would no Succours to our Army send,
But still their tender Conscience did pretend.
Yet Conscientions Michael and the rest
Who such abhorrence of our Cause exprest,
Beneath the Veil of Sanctity and Zeal
Falshood, Revenge, Malice and Pride conceal.
On Heav'n with open Arms they will not fall,
For this the timerous Saints Rebellion call.
But oft I've heard their best Arch Angels Ly,
I know their Fraud, and deep Hypocrisy.
These Godly Seraphs let our Arms attack,
And to their Praying Regions chase them back.
To us their Numbers and their Strength are known,
We know their Courage, and we know our own.
Thro' Hells dark Realms let's sound the loud alarm,
And give Command for all our Youth to Arm.
Your Ensigns on the Dusky Plains display,
And draw your Legions out in long Array:
Legions that Life, and Strength Immortal feel,
Arm'd all in Adamant and treble Steel.
Let's empty all our Arsenals, and drain
Our stores of Death, and Magazins of Pain.

We'll draw out all th'Artillery of Hell,
Artillery, like that by which we fell.
We'll ride in flaming Tempests thro' the Air,
And on the Foe discharge amazing War.
Blue flames we'll carry from these Sulphurous Caves,
And lave into the Air these boiling Waves.
With this Tormenting Fire the Foe we'll burn,
And against Heav'n, will Heav'n's own Vengeance turn!
Up from their Roots these burning Hills we'll tear,
And Hell's tremendous Spoils aloft we'll bear,
And hurl our Racks and Tortures thro' the Air.
With Storms of Fire, with Thunder, Rain and Hail,
Mingled Destruction, we'll their Camp Assail.
For our great Prince is Monarch of the Air,
Our Empire still is uncontested there:
Thus we th'Angelic Guards will soon remove,
And send them to excuse themselves above.
When they dismay'd back to their Seats are fled
We'll o'er the Britons dire Destruction spred.
Thus we'll Lutetia save, and Blood and Spoil
Shall sooth our Torments, and our Pains beguile?

He said. Then Rimmon rose up from his Place,
Of noble Stature, and Majestic Grace.
In Eloquence and soft perswasive charms
He much excell'd, but little car'd for Arms.
No Seraph of a vaster Genius fell
From the blest Regions to the Gulph of Hell.

No Lord, that in th'Infernal Council fate
Sustain'd with greater skill a high debate,
Or seem'd more fit for Business of the State.
None spoke with so much Ease, and such Address,
None Business better knew, or lov'd it less.
Dissolv'd in Luxury, in Sloth and Ease,
He War declin'd, and pleaded still for Peace.
No nobler Presence in the Court appear'd,
None by the Senators was better heard.
They knew his falshood, yet th'attentive throng
Lov'd the soft Music of his charming Tongue.

Who thus begun. Immortal Potentates,
Illustrious Princes, high Seraphic States!
T'uphold this ancient Monarchy, a Zeal
Greater than mine no Seraph can reveal.
None to Obedience more Reluctance show,
Or greater Hate to our Allmighty Foe.
None more t'enlarge our Empire can desire,
None feel more sensibly this painful Fire.
Who more delights in a Terrestrial Seat,
That from our Torment yields a mild restreat?
Scorcht with corroding flame no Seraph loves
More to frequent our cool refreshing Groves.
Who's pleas'd with Incense more and od'rous Gums,
Or the sweet Steams of burning Hecatombs?
Therefore no likely means I would neglect
To save our Altars, and our Priests protect.
Arthur assisted with Celestial Aids
Our Empire with resistless course invades.

He his bold Cohorts round Lutetia pouers,
And threatens with his Arms her lofty Towers.
A Guard of Seraphs round his Army stands,
Celestial Sabres flaming in their hands.
Now valiant Belus wondrous Courage shows,
Off'ring in Arms t'assault our potent Foes.
I'm not for Arms by long experience taught;
What have we gain'd by all our Battles fought?
In Heavenly plains fir'd with a noble rage
Our Troops did all the Allmighty's Host engage.
Of which brave Deed what Seraph can Repent;
But when our Strength and all our Arms were spent,
You all remember Michael's dreadful Sword,
What fiery Darts we felt, what Thunder roar'd.
As drunk with wrath divine our Army reel'd,
And with Celestial Spoils o'erspread the Field,
Seraph on Seraph heap'd, and Shield on Shield.
Then did the Chariots which our Troops did chase,
O'er faln Arch Angels Necks, and grov'ling Cherubs pass!
Ignoble Rout deform'd th'Etherial Plain,
When wounded Seraphs first had sense of Pain.
Close on the Reer th'insulting Conq'rors hung,
And with the pointed Lightnings which they slung.
With massy Bolts and Darts of poison'd Steel,
From which our Limbs did raging Anguish feel,
Cross the steep Gulph they chas'd us till we fell
To scape those Torments, down to these of Hell.
This Fire, these Shades are all our Arms have won,
The sad Reward that do's our labour crown.

This Language is not to reproach our Flight,
For who can stand against Eternal Might?
But to diswade you from unequal Fight.
Since first this famous War broke out in Heav'n,
Since our fierce Troops from those mild seats were driv'n,
We've oft with all our force the Foe assail'd,
With wond'rous Brav'ry, yet we ne're prevail'd;
But Art has prosper'd, where our Arms have fail'd.
We the Terrestrial World by Art did gain,
And must by Art our Conquest still maintain.
Well laid Temptations and enticing Charms,
Which propagate our Guilt, are our successful Arms.
Here lys our Strength, by these we must support
The Power and Greatness of th'Infernal Court.
We with our Heavn'ly Foes engage in vain,
For those who know no Guilt, can feel no pain.
Invulnerable they no hurt receive,
Nor can they feel deep wounds, like those they give.
But we can suffer, we can Torment feel,
From wounds Inflicted by their glitt'ring steel.
Our penetrable Plate and brittle Shield,
Will to their keen Etherial Weapons yield.
In these strange Flames by skill divine prepar'd,
Our Mould grows tender, as our hearts grow hard.
Such disadvantage justly may perswade,
No more with force their Armys to invade.
Let us known Arts and try'd Temptations use,
That may from Heav'n the Britons Minds seduce.
If our Enticements take, we gain our Cause,
For Heav'n from Rebels strait its Aid withdraws.

Then you may Chase the Briton to his Isle,
And spread Lutetia's Fields with Christian Spoil.

Then Milcom rose full of Revenge and Scorn
A ghastly, meagre Fiend with Envy worn;
His pale, lean Cheeks his restless Mind exprest;
And Spite and Spleen his hollow Eyes possest.
His wrinkled Forehead, sowr and sullen Brow
Did deadly Hate, and deep Resentment show.
He Seeds of Strife and sharp Contention sow'd,
And call'd his Private Quarrel, Publick Good.
With execrable Words and desperate Speech
Th'Apostate still th'Allmighty did impeach.
No ruin'd Angel so audacious seem'd,
Or with so black a Tongue his God blasphem'd.
Ev'n when in Heav'n blest with his Maker's Smile,
The mocking Spirit would his Lord revile.
Cast down from Heav'n he rav'd and curst the Blest
Who still their Thrones and Innocence possest:
Above the rest he show'd his Discontent,
And more impatient seem'd of Punishment.
None yet was found thro' all the Courts of Hell
So Enterprizing, more Implacable.
None of th'Apostate Host would sooner joyn
To carry on a bold and black Design.

And thus he spoke. Lords of Celestial Race,
Let not our Fears Seraphic Might disgrace.
I'll to th'Allmighty ne'er be reconcil'd,
Who of our Thrones our Birthright, us despoil'd;

And in Exchange has made Arch-Angels take
A low black Prison and a fiery Lake.
I'd be reveng'd for this unrighteous Deed,
And still attack him tho' I ne'er succeed.
Whate'er, Seraphic Heros, be your Fate,
Appear true Patriots of th'Infernal State.
I would, as generous Belus do's propose
With Arms and Force invade our Godly Foes.
I would, tho' they our Arms should still defeat,
The noble War eternally repeat.
I would alarm, assault, molest, annoy
And still disturb the Foe, I can't destroy:
For this an endless Pleasure would create,
And with Revenge sooth our Immortal Hate.
Why should we fly to Frauds, will Frauds obtain
A Conquest which by Power we cannot gain?
Do's not th'Eternal Foe as much excel
In Wisdom, as in Strength the Peers of Hell?
Will not his Circumspection undermine
What you believe a deep and wise Design?
Some have 'tis true succeeded by their Fraud,
But I th'Ignoble Way could ne'er applaud.
Let us, as Belus urg'd for Arms declare,
Our Forces Muster, and denounce the War.
Our eager Troops will cheerfully obey;
I'd be reveng'd, and War's the quickest way.
I long the pious Squadrons to engage—
More had he said, but wild and mad with Rage
He to th'Assembly could no longer speek,
But his Discourse did here abruptly break.

Then Ammon rose a Prince of high Renown,
Awful in Flames, and haughty tho' undone.
On his grave Brow deep Mysterys of State
Prudence, Advice, and Contemplation fate.
No Minister of all the Stygian Court
Declining Empires better could support.
The State of Hell's affairs none better knew,
None did their Int'rest with more Zeal pursue.
Important Looks and solemn Air confest
Labour and vast Concern within his Breast.
The Fate of Kingdoms seem'd his anxious Care,
Ruptures of Peace, and high Designs of War.
He seem'd engag'd in searching proper ways
To prop old Monarchys, or new ones raise.
When he began, all great attention paid,
And silent sate and husht, as midnight shade.

Then thus he spake. Spirits of Race divine
What Belus offer'd, tho' a brave Design,
Suits not with Rimmon's Judgment, nor with mine.
Should we by gen'ral Vote for Arms declare
And Heav'n once more invade with open War,
If we the Conqu'rour should again incense,
What can we hope from arm'd Omnipotence,
But greater Wrath, and Torments more intense?
Can't he fresh Treasures open that contain
Yet fiercer Vengeance, more destructive pain?

His secret stores yet deadlier Light'nings yield,
More massy Bolts his vengeful Arm can weild.
In his high Arsenals will yet be found
Much keener Arms, and Darts that deeper wound;
Where he preserves his chosen Torments wrought
With greater Labour, greater Skill and Thought.
Where Swords of hardest Heav'nly Metal made,
And Shafts in strongest Fury dipt are laid.
Cannot th'Almighty Conquerour if he please,
From Hell's deep Vaults more dreadful Plagues release,
And with new Racks our Tort'ring pains increase?
Can't he these fiery Mountains on us turn,
Enrage our flames, and make them fiercer burn?
Or may we not in Hills of Ice immur'd,
Feel sharper Cold, than e'er we yet endur'd?
May not his hand bar fast the Gates of Hell,
Confine us to Despair, and make us dwell
Close Pris'ners chain'd in these Sulphureous Caves,
Or overwhelm us with these boiling Waves;
That we no more may our sad hours beguile,
In the soft Air of the Terrestrial Isle:
Nor ourfry'd Limbs repose by shady Trees,
Nor fan our Burnings with a gentle Breeze.
Our open force must meet this dismal end,
And these sad Triumphs must our Arms attend.
But of Lutetia why should we despair,
And of our Franks so much renown'd in War?
Great Clotar do's in Wiles and Arts excel,
That scarce inferiour are to those of Hell,
By Force or Fraud the Briton he'll repel.

A numerous Army he together draws,
Resolv'd t'assert cuts, and the Gallic Cause.
But grant that high Lutetia should submit,
And the proud Conqu'ror on her Throne should sit.
Grant all the Towns and Provinces of Gaul
Should yield, and follow great Lutetia's fall:
Must all our other Votarys Rebel,
And take up Arms against the Power of Hell?
Mankind Obedience hate, as well as we,
In Guile and Temper we so much agree,
A great Defection from us cannot be.
Rome ever faithful to our Cause appear'd,
To us by constant Services endear'd.
Her strong Affection all her Deeds proclaim;
Her Aims and Interests are with ours the same.
Besides, Iberia is a faithful Friend,
And will her Troops to our Assistance send.
But what if all th'European Realms were gone,
Asia may still her fixt Obedience own.
There we with Incense may our Nostrils cloy
And all the pleasures of the East enjoy.
There we may sport in mild, indulgent Beams,
And cool our Sores in sweet refreshing Streams.
There we may wander o'er a flowry Land,
And see in Spicy Groves our Altars stand.
Then add to this that our Imperial Sway
The Black and Tawny Nations all obey;
Who lie extended o'er the spacious Soil
From famous Memphis to the head of Nile.

From th'Ethiopean Region to the Shore
On which th'Atlantic Ocean's Billows roar;
And from the Northern to the Southern Moor.
Besides a Western World is still our own,
Where Arthur and his God are yet unknown.
This undiscover'd Soil, this Golden Coast
Serves as a Refuge to receive our Host,
Were all the Eastern World to Arthur lost.
These are the Reasons which with me prevail,
Not with our Arms the Briton to Assail.
I would from Hell the Fury discord send,
That her swift flight might to Britannia bend.
Since Arthur's absent, she may soon embroil
The wav'ring State, and trouble all the Isle.
She midst the Britons may Dislention sow,
And into noble flames may quickly blow
The Seeds of Strife that in their Bosoms glow.
She'll all the Fuel find she can require
To feed and entertain her raging fire.
Arthur who chas'd us from the British Coast,
And to pursue us has the Ocean crost,
Quitting his high Design, must then be gone,
And leave this Kingdom to Secure his own.
He said. The Synod gave a loud Applause,
And with this Counsel pleas'd, their Monarch rose.

Mean time the Gallic Monarch took th'alarm,
And gave Command for all his Men to Arm.
Resolv'd to stop th'Invading Briton's rage,
And in the Field his Army to engage.

Lutetia first the Cry of Arms began,
Which soon thro' Clotar's wide Dominions ran.
The zealous Leaders did their Troops Collect,
To form an Host their Kingdom to protect.
With wondrous speed they did together draw
Their Squadrons, which did distant Citys aw.
The Valiant Lords from various Regions came,
To save their Country, and to raise their Fame.
The Pagan Priests wild with the dismal Fright,
With their loud Crys did all to Arms excite;
Who for their Altars might their Lives expose,
And guard their helpless Gods from Christian Foes.
Thro' every Town the Franks in Arms appear'd,
In every Street the Voice of War was heard.
Loud Clamors, and the Soldiers mingled Crys
Shook all the Azure Arches of the Skys.
Some on their Coursers mounted did advance,
Arm'd with a Shield, a Sword, and glitt'ring Launce,
Some came on Foot and for their Arms did bear
A dreadful Halbert, and a Masly Spear.
They came from every Soil and every Town
Which did the haughty Franks Dominion own.
Round high Lutetia's Walls to stop the Foe
Their Confluent Troops did in a Deluge flow.
All were compleatly arm'd, and here my Verse
The Names of those fam'd Heros shall rehearse,
Who had in Clotar's Army high Command,
And the great Briton's Triumphs did withstand:
It shall the warlike Nations too relate,
Who joyn'd their Arms to Guard the Gallic State.

Gaston for Conduct Strength and Martial Flame
Among the Franks acquir'd the greatest Name.
Clotar this mighty Man his General made,
And next to him, he was by all obey'd.

Villa was next in Dignity and Power,
Prais'd as a Chief, but as a Courtier more.
A gaudy General glorious to behold,
Adorn'd with splendid Arms, and smear'd with Gold,

Arbel was of his ancient noble Blood,
Of his Successes, and high Station proud:
Vast was his Bulk, prodigious was his Strength,
Pondrous his Spear, and of amazing length.

The Franks did next Prince Ansel most admire
Both for his Manly Wit, and Martial Fire.
Whose Praises Clotar did with Envy hear,
And thought his Name was to the Gauls too dear.

Great Oromel of Princely Parents born,
Whose Deeds his Line and Country did adorn,
Came with his Troops from the high Mountain's side
Which do's Iberia from the Gaul divide.

Bofar, to Honour by his Valour rais'd,
Heard his great Deeds by all Lutetia prais'd:
Cruel and Proud, but Vigilant and Brave,
Who that his Wealth and Honour he might save,
Aided his Prince his Country to enslave.

Moloc was next, a Captain fierce and bold,
Known for his Thirst of Blood, and Love of Gold.
This Man was one who with his Sword pursu'd
The Christians, and his hands in Blood embrued.
Some he destroy'd with ling'ring Torments, some
To shun his barb'rous Outrage left their home;
And thro' the Woods and Hills did naked roam.

Olcanor, fam'd for Wealth and Courage, led
His valiant Troops from Silver Liger's head.

Ruthen a Chief, tho' by his Prince esteem'd
By Christian Franks and Pagans too condemn'd,
Was a fierce Minister of Clotar's Will,
Employ'd to Burn, to Ravage, Spoil and Kill.

Miran, a Prince eager of Martial Fame,
Sprang from a Vig'rous, but forbidden Flame;
Mantana was his beauteous Mother's Name.
He the bold Youth of Francia's Island led,
All Valiant Troops, to Arms and Labour bred.

They left the Land with beauteous Citys stor'd,
Which once obey'd their Bellovasian Lord.
The bold Senones came, whose Castles stood
Between Jeauna's and Sequana's Flood.
The Catalaunian who Matrona drank,
And the Mandubian from swift Arar's Bank.
They left Augustodunum, and the Field
Which once the Vadicassian Farmer till'd.

The Lemovician from Vagenna's Stream,
And the Velaunian Youth together came.
The bold Burgundian Leaders from the Banks,
Of Alduabis brought their Warlike Franks:
Where nobler Vineyards crown the fertile Field,
Then Thuscan Hills, or thine, Iberia, yield.
They left the Towns that thro' the Region lay,
Which the Vogesian Hills around survey.
They came from Dola and the fruitful Land,
Which Arborosa's Towers did then Command.
And where Lugdunum's lofty Castles rise,
Whose gilded Battlements invade the Skys.
The Helvian and Rutenian hardy Troops
Came from sublime Gebenna's aiery Tops:
Both Warlike Nations who did far surpass
In Martial Glory all the Gallic Race.

Arausio sent her valiant Troops, a Town
Which then the Gauls did with their Praises crown.
But since it grew a more Illustrious Place,
Rul'd by the mild, Nassovian Godlike Race.
Whose great and glorious Deeds have rais'd her name,
Above the Citys of the highest fame.
Great Huban from the Coast which with its Waves
The Aquitanian rolling Ocean laves;
And from the Towers along Garumna's Banks,
Brought to King Clotar's Aid his valiant Ranks:
Unnumber'd Squadrons fill'd the Gallic Host,
Which left the Citys on the Southern Coast,

Which from Botatum to Nicæa lay,
And various Lords and Leaders did obey:
For so far Clotar o'er the Gallic Land,
Had by his Arms extended his Command.
The numerous Nations which the Lands did own,
Between Garumna and the rapid Rhone;
Where high Tolosa and Carcassum stand,
And where rich Tarnis rolls her Golden Sand.
The Youth from Alba and Nemaussus came,
Where numerous Martyrs dy'd by Sword and Flame.
For tho' with Christians Gallia did abound,
Yet they were chiefly in the Cities found,
Which o'er the fair and fertile Region lay
Between Gebenna and the Midland Sea.
Between the Alpine Mountains on the East,
And th'Aquitanian Ocean on the West.
These Clotar with inexorable Hate
Strove to Extirpate from the Gallic State.
Ruffians, Tormentors, black Assassins sent
By his Command all Methods did invent,
By which the Pious Race might be destroy'd,
And Hell's and Clotar's Malice might be cloy'd.
The dreadful Marks of Persecuting Rage,
Frequent appear'd o'er all this horrid Stage.
O'er all the Fields unbury'd Bones were spread,
And bloody Torments dy'd their Rivers Red.
Here Salvage Moloc, and fierce Ruthen strove,
Whose Cruelty should greatest wonder move,
And who should most engage their Monarch's Love.

The various Nations came who did reside
On Rhodanus and swift Isara's tyde.
They left the Region near the Alpine Snows,
Where old Brigantium stood, and where Druentia flows.
They left the Citys on the Shores that stay
The rolling Waves of the Ligustic Sea.

Stuffa a mighty Allobrogian Lord
Fam'd for his Stature and prodigious Sword,
The Fierce Helvetian Cohorts did Command,
Which Clotar's Gold brought from their Native Land.
One part the Urbigeuian Lords obey'd,
And Till'd the Soil by Jura's Pekes survey'd.
Some did Bromagus and the Towns forsake
Which lay, Lausanna, on thy spacious Lake.
They left the Mountains where the melted Snow
Do's down the Sides in unform'd Channels flow,
And when beneath their Confluent Streams combine,
They form the Rhone, the Danaw, and the Rhine.
Their Mercenary Citys ever Sold
Their Youth to kill, and to be kill'd for Gold.
They Fought for him who best their Country fed,
And did not Fame and Glory seek, but Bread.
These Nations all were Vigorous, Strong and Bold,
Patient of Labour, Hunger, Heat and Cold.
Clotar this Valiant People much Carest,
And by their Arms the Neighb'ring States Opprest.
These foremost in his Battles always fought,
He his Chief Conquests by their Courage got.

These mighty Leaders did for Armour wear
The Skins of Beasts slain by their fatal Spear.
Some march'd before their Troops in dreadful Pride,
Arm'd with a ravening Lyon's grisly Hide.
The Shaggy Back was o'er their Shoulders spread
With formidable grace, and on their Head
The Tawny Terror grinn'd with open Jaws,
And cross their Breasts were lap'd the hideous Paws:
The Teeth and Savage Beard the Hero's Face
Did with becoming Martial Horror grace.
Some did the Wolf, and some the Tyger wear,
The Spotted Leopard some, and some the Bear.
Some a vast Stag, some a wild Bull adorns
With his Curl'd Forehead and his goring Horns.
Their Shields with dreadful Figures were embost,
And Belts of Hyde their Spacious Shoulders Crost.
The Warriours for Offensive Arms, did bear,
A massy Sword, and vast enormous Spear,

These were the Warlike Nations, these the Lords,
Heros, and mighty Chiefs who drew their Swords
In Clotar's Cause, and made the last Effort,
Lutetia's Power and Greatness to support.

BOOK III.

Mean time the Prince of Darkness flew away,
To send fierce Discord to the Coasts of Day.
Far on th'Infernal Frontiers near the Shore,
On which th'insulting Waves of Chaos roar;
The utmost limits of Tartarean ground,
Which Hell's dark Realms from Night and Chaos bound;
There stands a high and craggy Cliff that braves
The neighb'ring Tempests and tumultuous Waves.
On this sharp Rock did the dire Fiend remain
Bound with a vast, unweildy, brazen chain.
Whose hideous yellings did the Deep affright,
And interrupt the Peace of lonesome Night.
A Thousand horrid Mouths the Monster show'd,
And each had twenty Tongues, all fierce and loud.
Her bloody Jaws did her lean Limbs devour,
And from her wounds she drank the flowing Gore.
With her sharp Claws she did her Entrails tear,
And from her head pull'd off her Snaky hair.
The Breath she Belch'd out with a fearful sound,
Made Storms and Whirlwinds in the Air around,
Her glaring, fierce, mis-plac'd, distorted Eyes,
Like adverse Meteors flaming in the Skys,

Their fiery Orbs against each other turn'd,
Tremendous in their bloody Circles burn'd.
So glows the Furnace which the flowing Mass
Of liquid Flints, transforms to Crystal Glass.
Round her foul wast a thousand Monsters rag'd,
A dreadful sight, in endless Strife engag'd.
Some Serpent like their spotted Volumns roll'd,
Some a Cerberean Offspring grinn'd and howl'd.
Like Lyons some, like Tygers some appear'd,
And part their hisling heads like Hydras reer'd.
Part Leopards seem'd, part were of Vulture Kind,
Part seem'd for pois'nous Basilisks design'd.
Some were an odious Harpy-footed Race,
Some Dragons Tails joyn'd to a Gorgon's face.
Some blended Forms did compound Horrour show,
Such as from foul unnatural Mixtures flow,
When all the various Beasts of Lybia meet
At some refreshing Spring to cool their heat.
Where Lyons, Bears, and all the Savage Kind
A horrid Congress, are in Friendship joyn'd;
And when the Stream has quench'd their burning Thirst,
Form dire Conceptions with promiscuous Lust.
These all each other, and their Parent tear,
And rend her Bowels with Eternal War.
Raving and restless on the Rock she turn'd,
And with her Feet her massy Fetters spurn'd.
Her Parent Ignorance close by her stood,
And from her Breast squeez'd Juice like blackish blood,
Her hateful Offspring's most delicious food.

A formidable Figure black as night,
That does in Shades and Labyrinths delight,
Exceeding fierce, but destitute of sight.
A crowd of howling Hellhounds round her staid,
All hideous Forms that her Commands obey'd.
Contention, Zeal, Inexorable Rage,
And Strife that wretched Men in Arms engage.
Various Division, Malice, deadly Hate,
That rend a Kingdom, and dissolve a State.
With these a cursed Figure did attend
Ecclesiastic Wrath, a furious Fiend
That did the rest in Cruelty surpass,
Deform'd beyond the whole Infernal Race.

Swift as exploded Light'ning thro' the Sky,
To this wild Rock did Hell's proud Monarch fly.
The Fiends, as he alighted on the place,
Before him bow'd with awkard, horrid Grace.
Strait with his hands the brazen Chain he broke,
And then the raging Fury thus bespoke.
Thou by whose Aid, we founded first our State,
Who didst these gloomy Seats of Death create,
Of whose great Power all Nature stands afraid,
Hither I come to ask thy speedy Aid.
The British King th'invet'rate Foe of Hell,
By whose prevailing Arms the Saxon fell,
Musters in Gallic Fields his British Ranks,
And threatens Ruin to our Warlike Franks.
Go haste to Albion, and her State embroil,
With Heats and Strife and Tumult fill the Isle.

That Arthur from Lutetia may retire,
To quench distracted Albion's raging Fire.

He said. The Fiend pleas'd with the high design
Reply'd, this grateful Enterprise be mine.
I first in Heav'n did Strife and Uproar move,
And vext with War the Realms of Peace and Love.
Cast down from thence to Eden's Walks I came,
Where Adam's Breast receiv'd my powerful Flame.
From Heav'n his yielding Heart I did divide
Tho' by the Bonds of Love and Int'rest ty'd.
Against his God I arm'd the Rebel first,
And then against himself with Guilt and Lust.
His Veins inspir'd by me, distracted Cain
Did first with humane blood the ground distain.
Subjects by me dethrone their Rightful Lord,
Sons in their Parents Bowels sheath their Sword.
Empires whose deep foundations laid in blood,
Collected in their Strength unshaken stood,
Viewing their spacious Conquests far and wide,
And all their Foes Associate Arms defy'd,
By my Superiour force at last attackt,
Have faln with inward, strong Convulsions rackt.
Nations insulted by their Tyranny,
Have seen with Joy their Wrongs reveng'd by me.
The Roman vanquish'd Eagles must have fled,
And left Unconquer'd proud Judea's head,
Had not my Fury and resistless Flames
Annoy'd the Walls, more than their Batt'ring Rams.

High Rome by all the trembling World ador'd,
Inspir'd by me, plung'd her Victorious Sword
Within her own full Breasts, and with her Darts
Wild with Distraction pierc'd her Childrens Hearts.
Her mighty Sons in Arms and War renown'd,
With the rich Spoils of Conquer'd Monarchs crown'd,
Drunk with my Fury, with each other's blood
Delug'd the Plains, and swell'd sad Tyber's Flood.
Ev'n Christians whom their Founder had enjoyn'd,
To live in Bonds of Peace and Love combin'd;
Whence both their Strength and Beauty should arise,
And on them draw the World's admiring Eyes,
Inspir'd by me against each other rag'd,
For Empire strove, and in fierce War engag'd.
I taught them to despise the gentle Dove,
And into Savage Fury chang'd their Love.
They soon discern'd by Lights deriv'd from me,
That Kindness, Meekness, low Humility
Those Gospel Vertues that to Peace inclin'd,
Enfeebled and debased a Noble Mind.
The Streets which sounded with Seraphic Lays,
With Songs of Heav'nly Love and Sacred Praise,
Now with the Din of Arms and Trumpets sound,
And warlike noise shake all the Heav'ns around.
Their Mitred Captains spring into the Field,
Lay down the Crosier, and the Fauchion weild.
Th'outrageous Preachers of a Law of Peace,
From Strife and fierce Contention never cease.
The Sacred Prelates now for Arms declare,
Unfold their Gowns, and shake out horrid War.

The furious Shepherds o'er the Mountains scour,
Prevent the Wolves, and their own Flocks devour.
Their Love extinguish'd by my stronger flame,
Their Church a bloody Theater became,
Where with a Zeal that gives all Hell delight,
Ecclesiastic Gladiators Fight:
In bloody Prizes with prodigious rage,
The eager Champions of the Church engage.
That Church has found mine, a more fatal Fire
Then that wherein her Martyrs did expire.
The beauteous Charms and Graces that arose
From perfect Health which Unity bestows,
Soon wither'd and decay'd, and in their place
A sickly Hue deform'd her meagre face.
My single hand has nobler Conquests won
O'er the Vile Sect, than all your Arms have done.
In vain you brought your Scythians from the North,
In vain you led your Roman Armys forth.
Oppos'd by these the Christians greater grew,
And all their Suff'rings did their Strength renew.
Confed'rate Earth and Hell could never move
This Sect supported by their mutual Love.
I broke the strong Enchantment, and infus'd
Those heats which all the binding Cement loos'd.
The Bond dissolv'd which did the frame connect,
Into a thousand parts was rent the shatter'd Sect.
Each Fragment strait aspir'd to soveraign rule,
And every seperate Part would be the whole.
They did each other black Apostates deem,
But all themselves the Orthodox esteem.

With all th'abstracted Points the Schools could find,
And Notions by th'acutest Wit refin'd
I entertain'd and fand the glowing flame,
Till it attain'd a force too great to tame.
Sometimes the Zealots shed each others blood,
For Points by neither Party understood.
Fruitfull in Creeds and Councils Asia's soil
Is fam'd for fierce Ecclesiastic toil.
Anti-Nestorian at Nestorian rag'd,
And Arrian War with Anti-Arrian wag'd.
Their Synods oft adjourn'd into the Field,
And those were Hereticks, who first did yield.
All for the Conq'ring Faith did soon declare,
And Creeds were vary'd by the chance of War.
In Orthodoxal Pride by turns they reign'd,
As they by turns the Battle lost or gain'd.
These furious Zealots thus the World embroil'd,
And with unheard of Rage each other spoil'd.
So soon the Laws of Peace they did decline,
Despis'd their Master's Badge, and put on mine.
An idle Notion and an empty Word
Have dy'd with Christian Blood the reeking Sword.
Thus has the ruin'd World my Power confest,
And so much Zeal have I for Hell exprest:
Nor will I future Services decline,
But undertake the Province you enjoyn.
Strait to Britannia will I make my way,
She's Conscious of my Power, and must obey.

She said. And strait she mounted in the Air,
And all behind her flew her Snaky Hair.
Thro' the dark Realms she swiftly wing'd her way,
And quickly reach'd the Silver Coasts of Day.
To Morogan's high Seat she took her flight,
Where she arriv'd when blended Shades and Light,
A brown Confusion made of Day and Night.
When Birds obscene fly from their dark abodes,
And prowling Wolves forsake the shady Woods.
The Lyon now who in his Den by Day
His lazy Limbs extended slumb'ring lay,
Yawning and stretching from his Covert comes,
Roars o'er the Hills, and thro' the Forest roams.
His lofty Palace near Augusta stood,
On the sweet Banks of Isis famous Flood,
Whither the Peer sowr with his Discontent
Came, in Augusta Faction to foment.
Along the Shore his flowry Gardens lay,
Which did with smiling looks the Stream survey.
Here walk'd proud Morogan with Cares opprest,
Holding his Arms across his anxious Breast.
When hither with her Crew the Fury came,
Whose pois'nous Breath, and the malignant flame
That thro' the Air her glaring Eye-balls cast,
All the delicious Gardens Glory blast.
The verdant Walks their charming Aspect lose,
And shriveld Fruit drop from the wither'd Boughs.
Flowers in their Virgin Blushes smother'd die,
And round the Trees their scatter'd Beautys lie.

Infection taints the Air, sick Nature fades,
And suddain Autumn all the place invades.
So when the Fields their flowry pomp display,
Sooth'd by the Spring's sweet Breath and cheating ray,
If Boreas then designing envious War,
Musters his swift-wing'd Legions in the Air,
And then for sure Destruction marches forth,
With the Cold Forces of the Snowy North.
The opening Buds and sprouting Herbs, and all
The tender First-Born of the Spring must fall.
The blighted Trees their blooming Honours shed,
And on their blasted Hopes the mournful Gard'ners tread.

The Fury strait compress'd the ambient Air
Moulded a shape, and did a Dress prepare
So just, that thus disguis'd the crafty Fiend,
Proud Algal seem'd the Peer's departed Friend.
A Mitre did his hoary Temples crown,
Pride in his Eyes, and on his Brow a frown.
Pondrous with Gold a Scarlet Cope made fast
With Silver Clasps, his Reverend Shoulder grac'd.
A low hung Robe as white as Snow he wore,
And in his hand a Golden Crosier bore.
She did a haughty Air and Mien assume,
Such as we see in the proud Sons of Rome.
Gravely she then advanc'd, and coming near
She stood, and thus bespoke the thoughtful Peer.

Let not my coming Morogan affright,
The Seats of Bliss and of Immortal Light.

Where ravish'd Minds their Golden hours employ
In drinking in unutterable joy,
By antient Friendship mov'd I now forsake
To give that Counsel Morogan should take.
While all your Inj'rys tamely you sustain,
You tempt th'Oppressor to encrease your pain.
Wrongs unreveng'd new suff'rings will invite,
And not asserting it, you yield your Right.
Prince Arthur and for ever may be curst
That impious Tongue, which call'd him Monarch first
The Britons and their Merit disregards,
And on the Neustrian only heaps Rewards.
These know his Secrets, and enjoy his Smiles,
Pamper'd with Ease, and rich with Albion's spoils.
The slighted Briton at a distance stands,
Not to receive his Favours, but Commands.
You that advanc'd him to th'Imperial Throne,
And for his safety did expose your own,
Who did till now his tott'ring Crown Support,
For this are banish'd from th'ungrateful Court.
Commands and Honours are confer'd on those
Who chiefly did his Arms, and yours oppose.
The Profits these enjoy, for which you fought,
And reap the Fields, which by your Blood were bought.
You all are left to tell of Camps and Wars,
To show your Wounds, and unrewarded Scars.
In vain your Merit in the Scale you lay,
Against your Neighbours Gold can Merit weigh?
This Court the Man that's useful now rewards,
And future Service, not the past regards

This Prince those Subjects only will prefer,
Who always please, or necessary are.
When Arthur first the Saxon did invade,
What Forces did you raise to bring him Aid?
What mighty Deeds were at Gallena done,
What Trophys by your Conqu'ring Sword were won?
What Strength, what Godlike Courage did you show,
Passing like Thunder thro' the broken Foe?
How much that glorious Day was due to you,
You beat the Foe, whom Arthur did pursue?
For this he envy'd your Heroic Fame,
And griev'd that yours did Rival Arthur's Name.
For this, from your Commands you are displac'd,
Strip'd of your Honours, and at Court disgrac'd.
Excess of Worth some as a Crime regard,
And hate the Vertue, which they can't reward.
The Merit which to these does most commend,
Is on their favour wholly to depend.
Your Vertues make you to the People dear,
And whom the People Love, ill Princes fear.
You once were Valu'd, when besmear'd with blood
You o'er the slaughter'd Saxons Conquering rode.
But now the Statesman does your hopes defeat,
And reaps the fruits of all your Blood and Sweat.
Your Merit ceases now the Foe's o'ercome,
The brave abroad fight for the Wife at home.
You are but Camp Camelions fed with Air,
Thin fame is all the bravest Hero's share.
Yet the good Monarch would no longer give
This meagre Sustenance on which you live,

His Ensigns he has wafted o'er the Main
New Laurels in the Gallic Fields to gain.
But you are left neglected here behind,
Such Scorn must deeply wound a generous Mind.
Solmar enjoys the Honour which to you
Is for your Courage and Experience due.
Your noble Soul this treatment does resent,
Nor do you spare to give your Passion vent.
But what will words do? they may prove a Crime
Dangerous indeed to you, but not to him.
Resentments till by sweet Revenge reveal'd,
Deep in your Breast should wisely be conceal'd.
Repeated threat'nings only wound the Air,
The Sword alone your Inj'rys can repair.
In vain your empty Words your Passion show,
He should not hear it, till he feel it too.
Heav'n now has plac'd Revenge within your power,
Had you a Heart to use the happy Hour.
While Arthur's absent from the British Isle
To seek new Triumphs in a Forreign Soil,
Some Pious Prelates are enrag'd to see
Their Prince protect audacious Heresy.
These in their Zeal to their Restorer cool,
Why should they serve a Prince they cannot Rule?
Adal and many Noble Leaders more
Who call'd their Hero from the Neustrian Shore,
Who from the Cliffs the Ocean oft survey'd,
And with Impatience dy'd to be delay'd;
Who, when he came, unheard of Joy exprest,
And their Deliverer, as they call'd him, blest;

Thousands of these grown Wiser wish to be
From their Deliv'rance, and Deliverer free.
Now the warm Passion has its Vigor spent,
They Cool to Sense, and their rash Choice repent.
Inlighten'd they, their fatal error own,
And crush'd beneath too much Redemption groan.
Power and Promotion were the dazling Prize,
The bright Illusion that engag'd their Eyes,
Which not obtain'd the strong enchantment's broke,
And now their Reason's free, they find the Yoke,
The heavy Yoke is not remov'd, the Name
Is only chang'd, the Thing is still the same.
Ill blood encreases thro' the murm'ring State,
And unpromoted Friendship turns to Hate.
Pernicious Counsellors your Prince misguide;
And from the People's Int'rest his divide.
These Sychophants address with Courtly Skill
Not to his Wants their Counsel, but his Will.
They hide ungrateful Truth and speak no more
Than what they knew would please their Prince, before.
Bright Schemes of Power before him they display,
And the sweet Charms of Independent Sway,
They tell him Kings then only great appear,
When Arm'd with Force they move their Subjects fear.
Princes whose Will pretended Law restrains,
Are only Royal Slayes, and rule in Chains.
That he's a King who triumphs free from Law,
Like the fierce Monarchs which the Desart awe.
Which uncontroul'd range the wild Mountains o'er,
And shake the Forest with their dreadful roar.

Whose haughty Nod the trembling Herds obey,
And are not Subjects only, but their Prey.
To such a Power they teach him to aspire,
And such a savage Empire to admire
More than Elysian Groves, and Spicy Woods,
And flowry Gardens stretcht along the Floods,
Ev'n more than Eden's Paradise, if there
Does one high Tree above his reach appear,
On which does hang the People's Golden Meat
Which Right protects, and Law forbids to Eat.
To ravish beauteous Liberty they first
Excite their Monarch, then assist his Lust.
By all her Crys unmov'd, and all her Charms
They bring her struggling to th'Oppressor's Arms.
These are the Tyrant's Pioneers that lay
All the high Fences flat, and clear the way
For his destructive Arms to fill with Spoil,
And fearful Ruin all their native Soil.
These in the Saxon Int'rest still abide,
And with design the lab'ring State misguide,
If Arms you take, no doubt but these will joyn,
And with their Squadrons aid the just design.
Others by favour rais'd to high Command,
Weak and unskilful in the Steerage stand,
To guide the Vessel, till 'tis almost lost
Midst frequent Rocks, and on a shoaly Coast.
Indulgent Heav'n of Miracles profuse
Religious admiration to produce,
Protecting Care has of the Britons shown,
Against their En'mys Wisdom, and their own.

But will you still on Miracles rely?
You must the means to heal the state apply,
The Sword's a sharp, but sov'raign Remedy.

She said. And from her odious head she tore
A chosen Viper swoln with pois'nous Gore,
She prest and grip'd him hard, and slash'd him thrice
Against the ground, to make his fury rise.
Then with a nimble hand the twining Beast
She secretly directed to his Breast.
Which pass'd as swiftly as a Parthian Dart,
Or pointed flame of Light'ning to his Heart.
Where while she fixt her Teeth, into the Wound
She prest out all th'envenom'd Juices found
In yellow Cells, wherewith her Jaws abound.
The secret Plague with which his heart was stung
Close to his Life in chill Embraces Clung.
A shiv'ring horror thro' his Vitals struck,
And every Limb with strong Convulsions shook.
The cold to heat no less excessive turn'd,
And with a suddain Fire the Briton burn'd.
All Ætna's Caves strove in his lab'ring Soul,
And Stygian Tempests in his veins did rowl.
His panting Heart threw out a boiling tide,
And circulating flames their winding Channels fry'd.
Distracting fury all the Man possest,
And Agonys of rage o'erwhelm'd his Breast.
Taking long strides sometimes he Slowly stalk'd,
And then Distracted rather ran, than Walk'd.

Oft stopping on a suddain would he stand
Striking his Breast, and stamping on the Sand.
Sometimes his Eyes were fixt upon the Ground,
Then starting up he wildly star'd around.
He bit his Lips, and with his Hands did tear
From his distemper'd Head his curling Hair.
Death! Heav'ns! 'tis so. Ungrateful Man. Abus'd.
Were broken Forms of Speech his Passion us'd.
Then on his mighty Sword he laid his Hand,
And mutt'ring to himself did threatning stand.
So when a Bull nodding his brindled Head,
And softly bellowing traverses the Mead,
While the warm Sun darts his indulgent Beams,
And most refines the Earth's exhaling Steams;
If then he finds th'invading Hornet cling,
Close to his Flank, and feels the poison'd Sting,
The wounded Beast enrag'd, and roaring out
Whisks round his Tail, and flings, and flys about:
Mad with th'adhering Plague's tormenting Pain,
He Scares the Herds, and raving scowrs the Plain.

Then her Disguise and Shape of Air dissolv'd
Which all her Monsters, and dire Limbs involv'd,
Strait did the Fiend her Stygian Wings display,
And to Miraldo's Palace flew away.
He, tho a Prelate was a Male-content,
Impetuous, hot, revengeful, turbulent.
False to his Vows, to Broils and Strife inclin'd,
A Mitred Christian with a Pagan Mind.

The Fury pois'd with her unerring Art
Her flaming Torch, and aim'd it at his Heart.
Across the Air the Firebrand swiftly slew,
And lightly pass'd his purple Garments thro'.
His Breast was strait on Fire, thro' every Vein
The hot Contagion did resistless reign.
The haughty Prelate strait outragious grew,
And wild and raving round the Palace flew.
His swelling Eyes did from their Orbit start,
And Streaks of Fire across th'Apartment dart.
He gnash'd his angry Teeth, his heaving Breast
And trembling Joynts the Fiend within confest.
So when surrounding Huntsmen cast a Shower
Of hissing Spears against some mighty Boar.
The grisly Beast provok'd with every Wound,
Rages, and casts his threatning Looks around.
High on his Back his furious Bristles rise,
And Lightning flashes from his raging Eyes.
He tosses Clouds of Foam amidst the Air,
And brandishing his Fangs invites the War.
Part of his over boyling Fury spent,
The Prelate spoke to give his Passion vent.

Dos Arthur thus my service past requite,
Despise my Power, and thus my Int'rest slight?
Is he so firm, so fixt upon his Throne,
That we Supporters once are useless grown,
Remov'd as Scaffolds now the Building's done?
My Power and Strength th'ungrateful King shall know
And find a Churchman is no vulgar Foe.

That the kind Miter must support the Crown,
That Arms are impotent without the Gown.
He shall a Churchman's Strength superiour find;
He rules the Body only, we the Mind.
Against their King my Sons will me obey,
My Power's Divine, and do's the Conscience sway.
The People of their Error I'll convince,
And make it Treason to obey their Prince.

Distracted thus he pass'd the wearing Night,
Watching with eager Eyes the springing Light.
And when the Morn did her grey Wings display,
From whence she gently shook the tender Day.
Strait Messengers he thro' Augusta sends
To call with Speed his most confiding Friends,
Who chiefly by his Eloquence was sway'd,
And his Advice as Oracles obey'd.

Of these deep Hate to Arthur some declar'd,
And for Rebellion had been long prepar'd.
These in the Church a Separation made
Because King Arthur she as Head obey'd.
Some whom Promotion only did convert
To Arthur's Cause, still lov'd his Foes at Heart.
By solemn Vow they did the Monarch own,
But labour'd hard to undermine his Throne.
While Albion's famous Church Obedience paid
And for the King her great Defender pray'd,
These few, for some amongst the best are bad,
Ev'n Christ among his twelve one Traitor had,

As open Schismaticks or secret Foes,
Did both the Pious Church and Pious King oppose.

'Tis true in Arthur's most auspicious Days,
The Peaceful Priesthood gain'd Immortal Praise:
Then noble Lights did in the Church appear,
And with their Orbs adorn'd her sacred Sphear.
Whose Pious Lives and Labours made her shine
With Heav'nly Graces, and with Truth Divine,
Whose learned Fame advanc'd her to the Skys,
And on her drew the World's admiring Eyes:

Then Tylon, Olbar, Arman, Orocon
Britannia's glorious Luminarys shone.
Then flourish'd Caledon great Tylon's Friend
Who to the Field King Arthur did attend.
Then flourish'd learned Aula void of Pride,
And Moran did his Church with Honour guide.
Then Patracan the Church's Fame increast,
And charming, sweet-tongued Flora Albion blest.
These sacred Priests whom Albion most rever'd,
And thousands more to Arthur's Cause adher'd.
Yet some ev'n then were found, who did create
Disturbance in the Church, as well as State.
Men of aspiring Thoughts and restless Mind,
Who Grandeur and Terrestrial Pomp design'd.
Scepters Immortal, and high Thrones of Bliss
In the next World they mock'd, they'll reign in this.
Celestial Crowns did doubtful things appear,
These would be Mitred Kings, and triumph here.

Religion which their Heav'nly Founder taught,
To these seem'd Plain and Naked to a fault.
These to encrease her Charms did on her throw
Their gawdy Pomp, and Ceremonial Show.
Which soon her native Majesty did shrowd,
Her Form divine and Heav'nly Lustre cloud.
She groan'd beneath her Robe's unweildy Weight,
Eclips'd with Splendor, and debas'd with State.
Her Godlike Looks at first her Vot'rys saw
With Admiration, Love and sacred Awe.
These made her lovely Shape to be despis'd
Deform'd with Paint, with Ornament disguis'd.

Botran to every restless Spirit dear
Did at Miraldo's Palace first appear.
Inexorable Hatred, Pride unmixt
Desp'rate Revenge, and Malice deeply fixt,
With Wrath from every Stain of Love refin'd
Reign'd uncontroul'd in his envenom'd Mind.
The savage Spoilers of the Lybian wild
Compar'd with this fierce Man, are tame and mild.
His Parents got him in a sullen Mood,
Hell's Furys round th'unshap'd Conception stood,
And all their Poisons mixt in one green Flood:
Then the dire Medly from the flowing Bowl
They pour'd into his Veins, and thence into his Soul.
Each with his Torch the heaving Mass inspir'd,
And with their keenest Flames the Embryo fir'd.
Th'unhappy Parents Womb began to swell,
And quicken'd with the Joy and Hopes of Hell.

With mighty Pangs she brought the Monster forth,
And dy'd to give her odious Offspring Birth.
Her wretched Bowels with Convulsions rent
Th'exploded Thunderbolt midst Mortals sent.
Teeth from his Birth did arm his cruel Jaws,
And Nails his Hands, sharp as a Tyger's Claws,
Fierce as young Beasts of Prey he us'd to try
Upon his Nurse his Infant Cruelty.
Displeas'd with Milk he bit her swelling Breast,
And suck'd her Blood a more delicious Feast.
Young Birds and Beasts he strangled with his Hand,
And o'er their Torments would insulting stand.
Hell's greatest Masters all their Skill combin'd
To form and cultivate so fierce a Mind,
Till their great Work was to Perfection brought,
A finish'd Monster form'd without a Fault.
No Flaw of Goodness, no deforming Vein
Or Streak of Vertue did their Offspring stain.

Then Orban, Sobez, and Elbuna came
Whose Envy, Malice and ambitious Aim
With Botran's and Miraldo's were the same.
Tho' all a cruel Nature had exprest,
Botran in Rage and Spite surpass'd the rest.
Th'Assembly fill'd, Miraldo Silence broke
And in these Words his Reverend Friends bespoke.

Prelates you see how Arthur do's employ
His Art and Power our Altars to destroy.

This Prince against us has at last exprest
The Rancor long conceal'd within his Breast.
From us our due Protection he withdraws,
And breaks the Fences of our ancient Laws.
What dreadful Tempests oer our Heads appear,
What Desolation may we justly fear,
Now all th'Entrenchments, and the sacred Mound
Now the high Pale is levell'd with the Ground,
Which Christ's Celestial Vine did once surround?
Wild Boars and Foxes will destroy her Fruit,
Tear up the Glebe, and gnaw her tender Root.
Now our Sectarian Foes in numerous Swarms
Will lay our Churches wast with furious Arms.
A Rout of raging Monsters will invade
The Heav'nly Vin'yard, now the Breach is made,
And all th'Inclosure is so open laid.
How can our Dignity be now upheld,
Since our coercive Laws are all repeal'd?
The Cement gone that held the Structure, all
The mould'ring Fabrick must decay and fall.
Stript of its Power who will our Gown revere,
Who will a Church unarm'd and naked fear?
Our Empire we no further shall extend,
Nor what we now possess, shall long defend.
We never shall unsheath this Monarch's Sword,
His Arms no Triumphs will to us afford.
He'll ne'er enrich us with Sectarian Spoil,
But when we push him forward will recoyl.
If impious Sects the sacred Mitre dare,
In vain we bid him undertake the War.

He unconcern'd our threat'ning Danger sees,
Nor will revenge our Wrongs and Injurys.
He to the Sects gives universal Ease,
And with our Foes has made a separate Peace:
Prelates, you see what lowring Clouds appear,
Which clearly show our certain Ruin near.
If still our Foes must this Indulgence boast,
The Church is faln, and all her Sons are lost.
Speak Prelates, what Expedient can we find
Whereby th'impending Storm may be declin'd.
Say, how this growing Mischief we shall stop,
And how our sinking Empire underprop.

Botran elated with Infernal Pride,
And urg'd with bitter Rancor thus reply'd.
Miraldo, Reverend Lords, do's truly state
Th'important Subject of this great Debate.
'Tis plain Sectarian Principles obtain,
And o'er the poison'd Court and Nation Reign.
The Sects are numerous, proud and haughty grown,
Find free Admission to the Prince's Throne.
Warm'd by the kind Indulgence of the Court,
Towring on high the busy Insects sport.
No more they dread the naked Church's Power,
But in their Monarch's Favour seem secure.
No Law restrains them, all our Hands are ty'd
And all Redress is to our Prayers deny'd,
And those they fear'd before, they now deride,
Crosiers their Hands, their Heads rich Mitres grace,
Who were the Offspring of Sectarian Race.

Sectarians o'er the Orthodox preside,
Who must the Church by Court-Direction guide.
They call them Men of Temper, Gentle, Meek,
They Peace pretend, and Moderation seek.
The Church by Condescention these betray,
And by reforming purge her Strength away.
How shall we Health to her pale Cheeks restore,
And to her Eyes the Beams they had before?
What Sov'raign Drug, what potent Remedy
Can we to save a sinking Church apply?
Since all our Wrongs and Fears from Arthur spring,
They're all remov'd, if he was not our King.
We guide their Conscience, and can soon provoke
Our zealous Friends to break th'Oppressor's Yoke.
Let us aloud the Church's Fears declare,
And for her sake engage her Sons in War.
Better a thousand Kings should quit their Throne,
Than such a Church as this should be undone.

Thus these two Prelates did the rest inflame,
And dar'd usurp the Church's sacred Name,
Tho she incens'd, the Faction did disclaim.
Mean time bold Morogan by Hell inspir'd,
Came to Miraldo and access desir'd.
The Prelate introduc'd him to the rest,
Who at his coming wondrous Joy exprest.
Then did Miraldo to the Peer relate
At large th'important Matter in debate:
And what the fittest means to them appear'd
T'avert the Church's Ruin which they fear'd.

The Noble Briton straightway silence broke,
And thus the Reverend Prelates he bespoke.
The gath'ring Tempest from Sectarian Foes
Impending o'er the Church still blacker grows.
Our Enemys, th'Inclosure open laid,
With their collected Force the Church invade:
Fathers who ne'er were Sons they now create,
To rule the Sacred Order which they hate.
Sectarian Swarms indulg'd o'erspread the Isle,
Devour the Church, and all the Land defile.
Nor do I only mourn the Churches Fate,
I dread th'approaching Ruin of the State.
Bleeding Britannia from her open Veins
Pours out a Crimson Deluge on the Plains.
Her Beauty faded, and her Vigor spent,
She feels her self grown Faint and Impotent.
What Foreign Soil hears not her dying Moans,
Bath'd with our Blood, and horrid with our Bones.
Outlandish Graves our bravest Youth entomb,
Or else they are swallow'd in the Ocean's Womb.
Her Wealth profusely spent, her Treasures gone,
Lost Albion is exhausted; spoil'd, undone.
No bounds are set to our increasing Woes,
Devour'd by Foreign Friends, and Foreign Foes.
O'erwhelm'd with Sorrow, Anguish and Despair,
With her sad Moans she wounds the ambient Air,
And to her Sons pours out this mournful prayer.
Ease me, my Sons, of my tormenting Pain,
Remove my Yoke, and break my pondrous Chain.

Will not my Wounds my Son's Compassion move?
Where is their ancient Courage, where their Love?
Arthur, restore my Valiant Legions lost
On Scandinavia's, and the Cimbrian Coast.
Restore my Noble Youth for my defence,
Protect not Forreign Realms at my expence.
My wasted Riches and my Ships restore,
Enrich not Neustria's Towns to make mine poor.
Relieve my Wants restore my Ease and Health,
And spread not neighb'ring Shores with British Wealth
Let not proud Rhenus and the Gallie Sein
Exhaust my Thames, and all her Treasures drain.
Call home my Armys who with fruitless toyl,
Pursue Ambitious Aims in Forreign Soil.
Protect my Commerce, and my Fleets encrease,
Make me again the Empress of the Seas.
Oh! Let th'insulting Corsairs be supprest,
Who in distructive Swarms my Coasts infest.
Chase this dire plague from my unguarded Shore,
Restore my Fleets, and they will Peace restore.
Can we her Sons see with relentless Eyes
Britannia's tears, and haer unmov'd, her crys?
Must not these Woes which threaten Church and State
Wound all our Souls and anxious care create?
How shall our Arts the lowring Storm dispel?
What lofty Works can this strong Tide repel?
Britannia must not sink, nor can we see
The Church o'er-run with monstrous Heresy.
We must our Altars with our Arms protect,
And guard our State which Arthur dos neglect.

Our Desolation from Destructive War
Moves not his Pity, nor employs his care;
While Dreams of Foreign Triumphs fill his Brain,
Domestic Evils unresisted reign.
If we Britannia love, we must apply
With speed some sharp and Soveraign Remedy.
By Camps and Battles Albion's strength decays,
The slow Disease upon her Vitals preys.
This Flux of Blood exhausts her flabby Veins,
And from the Springs of Life their Vigor drains.
Her noblest and her purest Spirits gone,
A windy Vapour swells her Veins alone.
Campaigns protracted and th'insatiate Womb
Of everlasting War her Wealth entomb.
We must debate how best her Wealth to save,
Princes impoverish first, and then enslave.
Adal and Barden to the Britons dear,
Who love their Country, and her ruin fear,
Organ and Subal who have still bewail'd
Their Country's fate, since Arthur first prevail'd,
These all by me engag'd, prepare to Arm,
You Church-men must assist and spread th'alarm.
No doubt some great Sectarians too will joyn,
Who from their Zeal to Arthur's Cause decline,
Who on their unrewarded Arms reflect,
Proud of their Worth, impatient of Neglect.
These with loud murm'rings all Britania fill,
Expose their Prince and boldly thwart his will.
These tho' they hate us, as we justly them,
Joyn with us Arthur's Conduct to condemn.

These raise Distrust, Suspition, Jealousy,
Which for Protection to Resistance fly.
These Passions soon in open Arms appear,
To guard against the Dangers, which they fear.
Thus far we'll call the Vile Sectarian Friend,
And use his Service to promote our End,
The Sects shall Aid, King Arthur to dethrone,
Then fall themselves, their chief Supporter gone.

He said, the Faction with a great Applause
Embrac'd the forward Champion of their Cause.
In solemn Vows th'ungrateful Rebels joyn
To execute with speed their black Design.
He whom with Prayers and Tears they did invite,
To ease their Suff'rings and assert their Right.
Who touch'd with God-like Pity, soon releast
These wretched Slaves by Pagan Foes opprest,
By whose blest Arms Deliv'rance did appear
Strange and amazing, as their Dangers were;
He's by ungrateful Murmurers defam'd,
By those his Power protects, Oppressor nam'd.
For now the dreadful Storm is over blown,
And all the hideous shapes of Terror gone,
Now Barb'rous Gods and Barb'rous Kings no more
Oppress despairing Albion as before,
These Men no more their great Restorer own,
But would the Prince that sav'd their Church dethrone.
So when good Moses set his Hebrews free
From the strong Jaws of Savage Tyranny,

Working a thousand Miracles to raise
Their Admiration, and excite their Praise;
They, rescu'd from the proud Oppressor's Hand,
And plac'd in Prospect of the promis'd Land,
Forgot the Wonders in their Favour shown,
Wonders by their Ingratitude outdone.
They soon their great Deliv'rer did despise,
And mock the Freedom, which with earnest Crys
And endless Groans they importun'd the Skys.
So long with Egypt's Leeks and Onions fed
They soon began to loath their Heav'nly Bread,
They would again be back to Egypt led.
They to their Chains and Brick-kilns would return,
And sore the loss of Egypt's Bondage mourn.
Of their Deliv'rance so did these repent,
And so revile the glorious Instrument.
They did their great Restorer dare condemn,
And all the Wonders which he wrought blaspheme.
Again the Slaves require their scourging Rods,
Their Saxon Masters, and their Pagan Gods.
Now open War the Rebels did proclaim,
And with their Slanders wounded Arthur's Fame.
A thousand Falshoods did the Traitors vent,
T'embroil the Realm and Tumults to foment.
Their crafty Arts wrought up the People's Rage,
And in Rebellion did weak Minds engage.
As when high Winds on the vast Ocean blow,
The swelling Surges strait tumultuous grow:
Mad with their Rage they beat with fearful Strokes
Their batt'ring Heads against th'opposing Rocks.

On some while rushing forward, some recoil,
And with wild Uproar all the Deep embroil.
Along the Coasts th'outragious Billows roar,
Or dash themselves to sleet upon the Shore.
Rebellion, Fury, Insurrection reign
O'er the vext Empire of the spacious Main.
So did these Agitators loud Alarms
Embroil Britannia with seditious Arms.
The common Clamour was, Religion's gone,
The Church is ruin'd, and the State undone.
Atheists bewail the Church's wretched Fate,
And Beggars fear the Ruin of the State.
The Vicious and Prophane their Armour take,
Fond of Rebellion for Religion's sake.
Those who derided all her sacred Laws
Appear, as Champions of the Church's Cause.
Those who on Tyrants lov'd to fawn, and still
Enslav'd thtir Country to their boundless Will.
Who did her ancient Laws and Rights betray,
Now most complain of arbitrary Sway.

Mean time fell out a luckless Incident,
Which did Sedition's spreading Flame foment,
And favour'd much the Traytors black Intent.
Augusta's Fleet equipt with mighty Cost,
Each Year the Ocean pass'd to Asia's Coast.
As oft return'd with Triumph from abroad
In Albion's Ports her Treasures to unload.
Hence Albion Empress of the Seas possest
All the Delights and Riches of the East.

Then in her Towns did wondring Strangers see
Arabian Wealth, and Tyrian Luxury.
The Pious King whose Vigilance and Care
Attended all Concerns of Peace and War,
Whose Breast felt only this ambitious Aim
To raise Britannia's Glory, Wealth, and Fame,
Sends out a Warlike Squadron to protect
This Navy which Augusta did expect.
The Squadron well equipt advanc'd to meet
And guard from Pyrates Rage the Asian Fleet.
With prosp'rous Gales they pass'd the narrow Tyde
That do's Iberia from the Moor divide.
But now the gath'ring Clouds began to rise,
And lab'ring Winds convey'd them up the Skys.
A dreadful Storm ensued, Fire, Hail and Rain
Beat with an unknown Fury on the Main.
Such Thunderclaps, such Winds, such Waves did roar
As never tremb'ling Saylors heard before.
Experienc'd Captains gray in Danger grown
Stood now amaz'd and did their Terror own.
In vain to stop their leeking Ships they try'd,
In vain the Pump, in vain the Rudder ply'd,
In vain they cut their Masts, or furl'd their Sails,
The Sea's resistless, and the Storm prevails.
Some Vessels with inevitable Shocks
Were dash'd to pieces on the craggy Rocks.
Some overset, some founder'd, some the Sand
Suck'd in, and some were lost upon the Strand.
Britannia's scatter'd Wreck and Warlike Stores
With endless Spoils o'erspread Iberia's Shores.

The Warlike Squadron lost, that should secure
Britannia's Asian Fleet from hostile Power,
When thrice Aurora's bright disshevel'd Hair
Had chas'd the Shades from all th'inlighten'd Air,
In with the Foe the wealthy Navy fell,
And strove in vain their Fury to repel.
For Lusitania won with Gallic Gold,
Their Corsair's Service had to Clotar sold.
Clotar did these and many more employ
The British Coasts and Commerce to annoy.
These prosp'rous Robbers seize the noble Prey,
And to their Ports Britannia's Spoils convey.

When these ill Tydings to Augusta came,
The Rebels thro' the Streets the Loss proclaim,
And on the pious King reflect the Blame.
Their Mouths a thousand black Invectives vent,
And with infernal Malice represent
Th'indulgent King as one who would betray
Their Naval Strength, and wish'd their Trade's Decay.
Thus the seditious Flame they did foment,
And into Rage blew up the Discontent.
As when the Sun to th'Artick Line returns,
And with a scorching Ray the Harvest burns,
Emptys the Rivers, and the Marshes drys,
Chaps the hard Plain, and russet Meadow frys,
If in some Town a Fire breaks out by chance,
Th'impetuous Flames with lawless Power advance:
On ruddy Wings the bright Destruction flys,
Follow'd with Ruin, and amazing Crys.

The flaky Plague spreads swiftly with the Wind,
And ghastly Desolation Howls behind.
So soon Sedition reer'd her hissing Head,
So swiftly did her raging Poison spread.
Thus did the Fury Albion's State embroil,
And with Distraction fill th'unquiet Isle.
So far her Undertaking did succeed;
All Hell had joy, and triumph'd in the Deed.
That done, the Fiend left the sweet Realms of Light,
And sinking, plung'd her self in Stygian Night.

BOOK IV.

Mean time Gravellan an Illustrious Peer,
Who to his Monarch's Int'rest did adhere,
For Eloquence, for Wit and Courage fam'd,
Was by the Faithful Lords in Council nam'd
The Messenger, who should on Arihur wait,
To represent Britannia's troubled State.
Forthwith the noble Person undertook
The task enjoin'd, and Albion's Coast forsook.
With outspread Wings his Vessel crost the Main,
And the Neustrasian Shore did quickly gain:
Thence to the Camp impatient of delay
He hasten'd, where the Valiant Britons lay.
Arriving there, thro' the thick Files he went
With eager Steps to Pious Arthur's Tent.
Where he in secret with his Monarch spoke,
And to him thus th'unwelcom Message broke.

Since Jason was dispatch'd to let you know
Your heavy loss, and sad Britannia's Woe;
When Ethelina did her Throne remove,
And chang'd Terrestrial Cares for Joys above:
A Race of Men who are enrag'd to see
Vertue asserted, and Britannia free.

Who to their Country wish the greatest Harms,
And envy you the Glory of your Arms:
Against your Throne and Albion's Peace conspire
And with Seditious Heats the Britons fire.
With false Reports and Popular Address,
They spread th'Infection with too great Success.
With crafty Language, and ensnaring Arts,
Your Subjects they deceive, and gain their Hearts.
Some of th'Invidious Malecontents declare
Against the Burden of a Foreign War.
Some aggravate the Losses we sustain
By Corsairs, Rocks and Tempests on the Main.
These would th'Intendants of the Sea displace
As an unskilfnl, weak, and heedless Race.
They cry high Offices are Sold and Bought,
And Trusts for Men, not Men for Trusts are fought.
Some cry, the Freedom all the Sects enjoy,
The Churche's strong Foundations will destroy.
While by the Laws you're to Sectarians kind,
Her Pillars shake, her Walls are undermin'd.
Some would your chiefest Ministers remove
Who serve you best, and most their Country love.
Into the Field they run in numerous Swarms,
Pretended Inj'rys to redress with Arms.
Rival with Rival, Foe with Foe combine,
Against their Prince divided Int'rests joyn.
Some are enrag'd to see their Foes enjoy
The Mannors, Honours, and the high employ,
Or noble Pension which themselves believ'd
Due to the mighty Deeds by them Atchiev'd.

Court Candidates with long Attendance tir'd
Fill'd with Despair, and with Resentment fir'd,
Neglected Senators, great Peers displac'd,
Captains cashier'd, and Ministers disgrac'd,
Bigots, and all the persecuting Kind
Against your Throne in Friendship are combin'd.
Then did the noble Lord at large relate
What Peers and Prelates most disturb'd the State.
Who did the Insurrection boldly head,
And who in secret did th'Infection spread,
And popular Heats with sly Suggestions fed.

A while King Arthur sitting unresolv'd,
Th'important Message in his Mind revolv'd.
He in the greatest Straights could ever find
Unshaken Courage, and a present Mind.
If happy or unhappy Tydings came,
His Godlike Temper ever was the same.
In Storms of State he was a steady Guide,
Still ply'd the Helm, and stem'd th'impetuous Tyde.
No Change of Looks his inward Care confest,
And when he suffer'd most, he show'd it least.
Oft from the lowest Ebb his Waters came
Back to their Channel with a nobler Stream.
His sick'ning Orb would oft disturb the Sight
With faded Glory, and expiring Light:
But would as often with a suddain Blaze
Break out, and shine with more illustrious Rays:
Oft thrust from Heav'n it left its starry Sphere
Sunk down, and hung below in Cloudy Air,

But the divine Intelligence within
Rais'd it as oft, to its high Seat again.
Then calmly thus did the great Briton speak;
Soon as returning Day from Heav'n shall break,
I'll lead my Squadrons Clotar to invade,
And if my Arms by Heav'n's propitious Aid,
Against the Gallic Forces shall succed,
I'll reach Britannia with the utmost Speed,
To calm those Heats which interrupt her Peace,
And find fit Med'cines for the sharp Disease.

Now had Aurora on the Face of Night
Pour'd from her Golden Urn fresh Streams of Light.
That fin'd and clear'd the Air, while down to Hell
The shady Dregs precipitated fell.
Then with Heroic Eagerness and Hast
King Arthur round his Head his Helmet brac'd:
From whose high Crest a lofty Plume did rise
Pure, as the Milky Stars that grace the Skys.
The radiant Steel which arm'd his Back and Breast,
Reflected Lustre not to be exprest.
Pure, burnish'd Gold his Martial Thighs encas'd,
And Silver Boots his vig'rous Legs embrac'd.
His glorious Belt he cross his Shoulder flung,
In which refulgent Caliburno hung.
With his strong Arm he grasp'd his spacious Shield,
Where a fierce Dragon guarded all the Field.
So bright it blaz'd, the Metal when it came
Red from the Forge, did scarce more fiercely flame.

Then his long Spear he grip'd, which shone from far
Bright, as if pointed with the Morning Star.
When first into his Hand King Arthur took
The pondrous Ash, the trembling Weapon shook,
As if 'twas conscious what a bloody Lake,
What vast Destruction 'twas about to make.
With Martial Port the Hero then advanc'd,
And fearful Splendor from his Armour glanc'd.
A dreadful Pleasure 'twas to view from far
The utmost Pomp, and Terror too of War.
As when the Dogs with their deep Mouths proclaim
That in the Wood they've rous'd the flying Game,
The generous Steed erects his list'ning Ears,
And the loud Noise with brave Impatience hears:
Thick Clouds of Smoke his working Nostrils blow,
And Streams of Fire out from his Eyeballs flow.
His eager Looks his inward Heat express,
And all his quiv'ring Limbs his Joy confess.
He paws the Vally with an needless Strife,
Profuse of Force, and prodigal of Life.
His forward Feet anticipate the Chace,
And seem to run, ev'n while he keeps his Place.
Such Life King Arthur show'd, such generous Rage,
Urg'd with as great Impatience to engage.

The sprightly Trumpet now with shrill Alarms,
The British Troops with noble Fury warms.
Their Arms so well to Vict'ry known they take,
And springing forth the tented Camp forsake.

100

A graceful Ardor in their Looks appears
While Lances, Swords and Woods of glitt'ring Spears,
Throng'd Helmets, Gauntlets and contiguous Shields
Diffuse promiscuous Splendor o'er the Fields.
The various Glorys of their Arms combine,
And in one fearful, dazling Medly joyn.
The Air above, and all the Fields beneath
Shine with a bright Variety of Death.
Helms flash on Helms, Bucklers on Bucklers blaze
With glancing Lustre, and recoiling Rays.
The Sun starts back to see the Fields display
Their Rival Lustre, and Terrestrial Day.
The raging Steeds shake with their Feet the Ground
And with their Neighings all the Heav'ns around.
Prodigious Clamour rattles in the Hills,
And in loud Eccho's all the Valley fills.
Thick Clouds of Dust which from the Plains arise
O'erspread the Squadrons, and deform the Skys.
The valiant Troops draw out in close Array,
And on the Hills their awful Pomp display.
The thronging Franks amaz'd regard from far
Th'Embattled Wings and Iron Face of War.

On th'other side of Esia's silver Flood
The Gallic Army in Battalia stood.
And only now this interposing Tide
Did Albion's Youth from the fierce Frank divide.
Bright, as the radiant Harbinger of Day
The splendid Arthur shone and led the Way.

101

His Squadrons follow'd, and along the Banks
The Britons swarm'd, and stretcht their Warlike Ranks.
Esia amaz'd at this strange sight appears,
Believing all her Reeds transform'd to Spears.
Th'affrighted Stream with unaccustom'd hast
By its arm'd Banks, and Iron Margin past.
Amidst the numerous Hosts the River flow'd
Like a vast Serpent, gliding thro' a Wood.

The valiant Briton wav'd his flaming Sword,
And full of Rage his fiery Courser spur'd;
The wound resented by the generous Beast
He plung'd amidst the Waves, and with his Breast
He all th'opposing Waters did divide,
And made his way across th'impetuous Tyde.
As when (so Poets feign) lascivious Jove
Forsaking Heav'n became a Bull for Love,
The Thund'ring Beast with mighty Vigor bore
Across the Tyde his Mistress to the Shore.
So Arthur's Steed the River's fury braves
Carrying a nobler Passion thro' the Waves.
Thro' Showers of Arrows which around him flew,
And Storms of Darts which Gallic Warriours threw
The mighty King advanc'd, and from the Stream
Bright as the Morning Sun in Triumph came.
With such a Lustre, and with such a Force
He rose, prepar'd to run his glorious Course.
Had those who liv'd in antient times descry'd
This Warriour rising from the foaming tide,

102

They would have thought that Mars himself had come,
As well as Venus, from the Water's Womb.
Fir'd with th'Example of th'intrepid King
The British Youth with Shouts did onward spring.
All to the Banks advanc'd, and with their Swords
High lifted up they leap'd to cross the Fords.
While thus the Britons boldly pass'd the Tyde,
The Gallic Troops rang'd on the other Side
Cast Clouds of Darts from near, and from afar,
To beat off from the Banks the wading War.
A ratling Storm down on the River pours,
And bearded Death descends in feather'd Showrs.
Some Rocky Fragments hurl against the Foe,
Some massy Spears, some glitt'ring Jav'lins throw.
While thus they strove th'Aggressor to repel,
Many great Britons by their Weapons fell.
Who mingled with the Waves their flowing Blood,
And turn'd the Crystal to a Purple Flood.
Coursers, dismounted Riders, Jav'lins, Helms,
And massy Shields the swelling Tyde o'erwhelms.
Spears, Arrows, Bows, and Plumes of various Dy
Upon the rapid Waters floating ly,
And Darts their Fury spent, still on the Current fly.

First his impetuous Dart Olcanor cast
Which thro' Comara's shining Buckler past:
Then thro' his temper'd Breastplate made its Way,
And buried deep within his Bosom lay.
From the wide Wound warm crimson Streams of Blood
Sprang out, and down the Briton's Armour flow'd:

103

Backwards he fell of Sense and Breath bereft,
And his hot Steed without a Rider left.
The generous Courser now without a Guide,
Did with the spacious Breast the Flood divide,
And climbing up the Banks with loosen'd Reins,
Flew wild about, and scowr'd along the Plains.

Then mighty Stuffa threw his massy Spear,
Which with its Errand pleas'd, sung thro' the Air.
He aim'd it full at Goran's shining Crest,
But missing him, it struck his Courser's breast.
A Crimson Torrent spouted from the Wound,
And deeply tinctur'd all the Flood around.
The Steed tho' tortur'd with the goring Spear,
Would fain the Warriour thro' the Water bear.
He heav'd his lab'ring Limbs, stretcht every Vein,
Did every Muscle, every Sinew strain;
His Mouth out-foam'd the Waves, his Eye balls star'd,
And working Nostrils Death at hand declar'd:
Then faint with toil and vast expence of blood,
He with his Rider sunk beneath the Flood.

Then was at Belon's head a pondrous Stone
By the strong Arm of raging Bofar thrown.
It lighted on the Briton's Breast, beneath
The Paps, and from his Body struck his breath.
He straightway headlong fell, and Esia's Wave
Involv'd the Briton in a liquid Grave.
Next Robar fell of Berta's noble Line,
Too bold the greatest Dangers to decline:

104

Now an inglorious Spear at random cast,
His Naval pierc'd, and thro' his Bowels past.
He honour'd by his Birth Sabrina's Stream,
And by his Death rais'd silver Esia's fame.
Here Dolan to surmount the rising Banks,
Stuck fast his Spurs within his Courser's Flanks;
The Steed against the Bank with fury sprung
That high above the Water's Margin hung;
But fell down backward headlong to the Flood,
And lab'ring lay, and choaking in the Mud.
Then Arton, Gamal, and Ormellan dy'd,
And with their Bodys swell'd the troubled tyde.
Next Blanadoc for Arts and Courage known,
And Holan, wise Testador's Valiant Son,
And many more amidst the Waves were slain,
Who strove to make the Shore, but strove in vain.

Mean time their Friends had gain'd the adverse Banks,
And march'd in Battle rang'd against the Franks.
Near to the Hills, the Franks retreating back,
In order drawn, waited the Foe's Attack.
Then Valiant Arthur to his Britons cry'd,
Now, Fellow Soldiers, no remaining Tyde
Is left to Guard the Foe; here, Britons, see
The way is plain that leads to Victory.
He said. And straight he spur'd his fiery Steed,
And thunder'd thro' the Plain with eager speed.
As when a Falcon from the Airy brow
Of some high Hill descrys the Game below,

105

To truss the Prey so strong, so swift he flys,
As if some Engine shot him thro' the Skys.
So Arthur with a noble Ardor past
T'engage the Foe, and the first Spear he cast
To Death's unwelcome Shades stout Hago sent;
The fatal Weapon thro' his Buckler went,
Broke thro' his Armour oft in Battle try'd,
And pass'd his Body thro' from Side to Side.
At Corolan he aim'd his second Spear,
Which pierc'd his Head ent'ring above the Ear!
He fell, and groveling in his flowing Gore
Fetch'd one deep Groan, and after fetch'd no more.

Then from amidst the Files Grimaldo sprung,
Nobly descended, vig'rous, bold and young:
With all his Might his furious Spear he threw,
Which from the Briton's Shield in pieces flew.
The Monarch all enrag'd with mighty Force
His Javelin cast, which with impetuous Course
Into his Breast past thro' his massy Shield;
Faint with the fatal Wound a while he reel'd,
Then down he fell, and stretcht upon the Ground
Which with his ringing Armour did resound.
Then Boson stept out from the foremost Ranks
A noble Youth born on Axona's Banks;
He rais'd his spacious Buckler in the Air
And stooping down guarded his Head with Care.
The Briton saw him, and a Javelin sent
Which might all farther Care of Life prevent:

106

But Boson seap'd, tho with a mighty Dread
He heard the erring Death sing o'er his Head.
Conrade who next did to the Charge advance
Could not escape with such a prosp'rous Chance.
An Ashen Spear the British Monarch sent
Which on its deadly Message swiftly went.
The furious Weapon did with Ease divide
His Buckler's temper'd Plate and treble Hide.
Then deep within his wounded Breast it sunk,
And at their purple Spring his Vitals drunk.
Strait on the Ground he fell no more to rise,
And everlasting Sleep o'erwhelm'd his Eyes.

Then did Amintor and great Tursin feel
Deep in their wounded Veins the Briton's Steel.
Next Raban and Amansul near ally'd
By the same mighty Arm together dy'd:
These did when living to each other show
The highest Strains of mutual Love, and now
When dying both their Friendly Streams of Blood
Were joyn'd, and mixt in warm Embraces flow'd.
Then Villa much admir'd for beauteous Charms,
And not less famous for his splendid Arms,
Who with applauded Brav'ry always fought,
Up to the Charge his fierce Battalions brought.
Then did the valiant Frank his Javelin throw
Aiming at Arthur's Breast a furious Blow:
Thro' the soft Bosom of the Air it went,
And in the Briton's Shield its Fury spent.

107

The King enrag'd strait cast his glitt'ring Dart
Which thro' his Shield and Breast transfixt his Heart:
The noble Frank in strong Convulsions lay,
Wallowing in Gore, and Gasping Life away:
His swimming Eyes grew dim, and suddain Night
Her sable Curtain drew before his Sight.

And now the Franks with vengeful Fury warm'd,
In numerous Throngs about the Monarch swarm'd.
Bright Showers of Darts did on his Buckler ring,
And bearded Arrows all around him sing.
Arthur enrag'd, resolv'd to force the Foe,
To break their Ranks, and cut his Passage thro.
He now no longer missive Weapons threw,
But from his Side broad Caliburno drew.
Above his Head he wav'd the glorious Blade,
Which dreadful Flashes thro' the Air convey'd.
And then advancing with a mighty stride,
Did force his Passage, and the Files divide.
As when a River is oblig'd to stay,
Oppos'd by some new Mound that dams its Way:
Th'obstructed Tyde swoln with its Fury stands,
And to its Aid calls its wat'ry Bands.
Recruited thus the River leans, and heaves,
And shoves against the Bank with all its Waves:
Which having broken, with resistless Force
It roars along, and runs with swifter Course.
So Arthur's Rage resisted higher rose,
And scatt'ring all who did his Arms oppose
He thro' their Ranks with double Fury flew,
And their Brigades with greater Havock slew,

108

Such was the Conq'rour's rapid Course, that Fate
Could scarce attend, and almost came too late.
While Vict'ry almost spent, and out of Wind
Flew heavily along, and panting lag'd behind.
Ansegius when he saw the Monarch nigh,
Shaking with Pannic Fear began to fly.
The British King pursu'd him o'er the Sand,
His mighty Sword uplifted in his Hand.
The flying Frank finding his Vigor spent,
And that his Flight could not his Fate prevent,
Turn'd back, and trembling on the Ground he kneel'd,
And threw upon the Sand his Sword and Shield:
Then while his Hands he spread out in the Air,
And did his Words to beg his Life prepare,
His Head flew mut'ring from his sever'd Neck,
And in the Dust seem'd eager still to speak.
So when the timerous Game from far descrys
Th'invading Falcon stooping from the Skys,
Upon the Prey so swift is his Descent,
It do's its Crys and almost Fears prevent.

Then Huban glorying in his noble Blood,
Boldly the conqu'ring Briton's Course withstood.
But strait the Warriour on his Crest did feel
The Weight and Force of Arthur's massy Steel;
With the vast Blow of the broad Fauchion stun'd
The Frank fell down, and prest the trembling Ground.
Arthur advanc'd and thus the Frank bespoke
Before his Arm discharg'd a second Stroke.

109

Huban, what Widows Plaints, what woful Crys
Of Orphans made by thee, have fill'd the Skys?
Thou unprovok'd, with Fire and Sword hast past
Thro' Peaceful States, and laid rich Countrys wast.
What pop'lous Towns and Citys hast thou burn'd,
What Towers and Domes to heaps of Rubbish turn'd?
How has thy Sword thy Neighbours round alarm'd,
And slain their Youth when naked and unarm'd?
This Cruelty thy bloody hand has shown
To please King Clotar's Fury, and thy own.
I'll now extinguish thy unnatural Thirst
Of humane Blood; That said, the Monarch thrust
Deep in his panting Breast his mighty Sword,
And left upon the Ground th'extended Lord.

Then Obal, Rodan, and Gutaro fell,
And Oroman who did in Arts excel.
Ocar and Nisan lay in Dust and Gore,
And great Alcador, and vast numbers more
Whose Vulgar Names appear in no Record,
Dy'd by the mighty Briton's Conq'ring Sword.
As when a Craggy Rock, that did appear
Still falling while suspended in the Air,
By washing Showers and frequent Tempests worn,
Or by some inward strong Convulsion torn,
Breaks off, and falling from the Mountain's top,
Rolls down the Wood beneath without a stop;
It overturns the Forest in it's way,
Nor can the strongest Oaks it's Progress stay.

110

Elms rooted up and broken Pines around,
(Amazing Desolation) spread the ground.
The British King advanc'd with such a force,
And no less Spoils adorn'd his rapid course.

Mean time King Clotar who in Armour shone
Of polish'd Plate, led his Battalions on.
Around his Head his crested Helm was lac'd,
And on his Arm his blazing Target brac'd;
Which o'er the Field, amazing to behold,
Shone like a glowing Orb of melted Gold.
Fir'd with excessive Rage he did advance,
And shook from far his formidable Lance.
Then mounted in his high Refulgent Car,
He plung'd with loosen'd Reins amidst the War.
Brave Gisan first did in his Bosom feel
The deadly force of his projected Steel:
Down to the ground the wounded Warriour came,
And by his fall advancd the Conq'rour's fame.
Another Spear at Roderic he threw,
Which thro' his Shield, his Head, and Helmet flew.
The noble Briton stretcht upon the ground
And felt departing Life Ebb from his Wound:
He gather'd up his quiv'ring knees, and strait
He stretcht them out, and yielded to his fate.

Bold Gotric next did in the Front appear,
Resolv'd to stand the mark of Clotar's Spear:
With mighty Vigor he his Weapon cast;
It flew, and hiss'd with fury as it past.

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It struck the Shield, but by unhappy chance
Did from the brazen Brim obliquely glance.
But that his Message might not be in vain,
By its refracted stroke was Ruthen slain,
And lay extended on the dusty Plain.
Where Clotar stood Ruthen was always near,
No Courtier more was to his Master dear.
With him the Monarch did the Secrets trust
Both of his Cruelty, and of his Lust.
The noblest Franks did by his Ponyard bleed,
Whose Doom by Clotar had been first decreed.
Or he the poison'd Bowl bore in his hand,
If bloodless Death his Master did command.
The fairest Women to his Bed he brought,
By Force, or Fraud, or by his Silver bought.
By Ruthen's fall King Clotar all enrag'd,
His utmost strength in deep Revenge engag'd.
With his extended Arm his Dart he cast,
Which as a Bolt of Thunder swiftly past.
On Gotric's Shield the hissing Vengeance fell,
Nor could the temper'd Steel its force repel.
Thro' Plates and Plys and Hides it's way it made,
And in his brawny Thigh the Weapon staid.
The Bearded Plague stuck in his wounded Veins,
And rack'd the Hero with tormenting Pains.
Down on his Knees he fell as in a Trance,
The haughty Victor fiercely did advance
To strike his head off, when brave Cutar broke
Thro' the thick Files, to ward the furious Stroke:

112

He took the Monarch's blow upon his Shield,
A suddain shout rung thro' th'applauding Field.

Then Cutar, Clotar's progress to arrest,
Discharg'd a noble Blow against his Crest;
The Frank receiv'd it on his temper'd Shield,
But stagger'd with the stroke, and backward reel'd.
Mean time brave Gotric had new Spirits gain'd,
Reviving from his Swoon, and then sustain'd
Both by his faithful Friends and faithful Spear
Retir'd in Pain, and halted to the Rear.
Gibbonius thro' all Britain's Isle admir'd
As one with Æsculapian Skill inspir'd,
Prescrib'd a nobler Balm to heal the Wound
Then that the famous Locatella found.
King Clotar soon recover'd, and for Fight
Collected all his Rage, and all his Might.
As when a Lyon roaming o'er the Plains
Is stop'd by Huntsmen, and surrounding Swains,
If wounded once by some advent'rous Spear,
He sees his blood upon the Ground appear,
Straight double fury gathers in his Eyes,
And on the Foe with double force he flys.
So with a fiercer Fire the Monarch burn'd,
And to the War with greater Rage return'd.
Then with his mighty Spear he did Assail
His valiant Foe; nor Shield, nor Coat of Mail
Nor harden'd Cuirass could its fury stay,
Till glancing on the Ribs it flew away.

113

The Briton felt the Wound within his Side,
And all his Limbs the streaming Purple dy'd.
The noble Leader rag'd at this Defeat,
But Loss of Blood oblig'd him to retreat.

Next valiant Horan did the Frank engage,
Fam'd for his Arms and splendid Equipage:
He from the flowry Banks of Isis came,
To win in Gallic Fields heroic Fame.
But in those Fields the Combatant was slain
Unable Clotar's Fury to sustain.
Then Valiant Malgo shook his pondrous Lance,
And bad his bold Dimetian Troops advance.
He bravely march'd the foremost of the Band,
And charging boldly made a noble Stand.
As when the Rocky Fragments standing up
In a rude Channel oft the Torrent stop
Which during Summer from dissolving Snows
Down the rough Sides of some high Mountain flows.
Obstructed thus the foaming Deluge raves
And roars against the Rocks with all its Waves.
So did the Britons Clotar's Course oppose,
And in his boyling Veins like Fury rose.
With high Applause great Malgo kept his Ground,
Till feeling in his Head a painful Wound
Inflicted by a Dart which Clotar cast,
His Friends compell'd him to retire at last.

Then did the Frank with Sword in Hand invade
The British Ranks, and vast Destruction made.

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Now grisly Death with Crimson Garlands crown'd,
In horrid Triumph reign'd, while all the Ground
With Helmets, Shields and broken Spears was spread,
With ghastly Spoils, and slaughter'd Heaps of Dead.
When famous Shobar with his watchful Eye
Perceiv'd the British Troops begin to ply,
Highly enrag'd, he call'd aloud to those
Who did his own select Brigade compose,
See, where your Countrymen begin to yield,
And fearing Clotar's Arms forsake the Field.
Let us advance our Ensigns, to sustain
Our stagg'ring Friends, till they their Ground regain.
With this Applause the Britons all adorn
No rallying Troops so oft to Fight return.
Did now that youthful Vigor warm my Veins
Which once I felt in Lusitanian Plains;
Could I with such a Force the Fauchion weild,
As when I slew Gelanson in the Field,
When Romolar who flew to his Relief,
Fell by the Side of that expiring Chief,
While Rhenus was amaz'd to see its Flood
As once Egyptian Rivers turn'd to Blood;
I would not doubt King Clotar to subdue,
Whose conq'ring Arms our yielding Friends pursue.
But since his Sword such Numbers have destroy'd,
And Arthur's Arms we see elsewhere employ'd;
I'll stay no longer a Spectator here,
But with King Clotar will exchange a Spear.
Old as I am I will my Fortune try
In Arthur's Cause I'm not displeas'd to dy.

115

Between the rising Fields on either Hand
Where Shobar and King Clotar did command,
A shady Thicket rose, near which the Way
That led between the Franks and Britons, lay.
Moloc who often had with Joy embru'd
His reeking Hands in slaughter'd Christians Blood,
Who thro' their Towns with Hellish Fury past,
And laid with Fire and Sword their Dwellings wast,
Chose fifty Gauls of equal Strength and Rage,
Who did themselves in dreadful Oaths engage,
Ne'er Children Wives or Lands to see again,
Till they had first the mighty Shobar slain.
And when they saw where his stout Squadron staid
They to this Thicket strait themselves convey'd:
That if his Squadron should advance this Way
They with united Arms might Shobar slay.
Now as the Warriour near the Thicket past
Marching to aid his Friends with eager Hast,
The Gallic Foes did from their Ambush spring,
And all at once their furious Javelins sling.
Then with loud Clamour they did onward rush,
And with unequal Force the Hero crush,
VVhile Shobar rais'd his Shield and stood inclin'd,
Th'Ignoble Foe Morander came behind,
And pierc'd between his Armours Skirts his Reins,
And left the Javelin in his bleeding Veins.
Great Shobar wounded with th'inglorious Thrust,
Fell down, and lay besmear'd with Gore and Dust.

116

A while he lay convuls'd upon the Ground
While his warm Life gush'd from the treacherous Wound.
His warlike Soul flew up to take its Post,
Midst the bright Squadrons of the Heav'nly Host.
Yet his great Life he did not cheaply sell,
For with his fatal Arms before he fell
He Dorlac, Taman and Orbassan slew,
Bruis'd Bodan's Head and pierc'd Tibaldo thro.
Nor did his Squadron stand Spectators by
As unconcern'd to see great Shobar dy.
For valiant Calmot when he saw the Chief
Opprest with Numbers flew to his Relief.
Calmot to pious Clovis was ally'd,
In Blood and Vertue both, and now he dy'd
Striving insulting Oran's Blow to ward,
And from the furious Crowd the Chief to guard.

Altubar next for Arts and Valour known
Strove Shobar's Life to save, but lost his own.
Next thro' the Files noble Gravellan broke,
But came too late to save the fatal Stroke.
But on the Field he left Moranson dead,
And with his Fauchion struck off Moloc's Head.
Thus Shobar fell unable to withstand
The suddain Charge of such a desp'rate Band.
The Britons rav'd to see him lying slain
By ignominious Arms upon the Plain.
And to revenge so great a Captain's Fall,
VVith utmost Rage they charg'd the treach'rous Gaul

117

Th'amaz'd Conspirators the Fight forsook,
And their swift Flight back to the Thicket took.
Gravellan close pursu'd with Sword in Hand,
And such a Slaughter made that of the Band
Which made the treacherous Onset, only two
Gamol and Arpan from their Fury flew.
Great Shobar's Fall reveng'd, the valiant Chief
March'd with his Troops to give his Friends Relief.
Who prest too hard by Clotar's Arms retir'd,
And whom his Presence with fresh Life inspir'd.
When Solmar likewise saw those Troops dismay'd
He brought the Ordovicians to their Aid.
Thus reinforc'd the rallying Britons burn'd
With a new Flame, and to the Fight return'd.

And now the Franks and Britons high enrag'd,
Were close thro' all the bloody Field engag'd.
Now Files on Files, Cohorts on Cohorts rush,
Steeds Steeds o'erturn, Spearmen at Spearmen push.
Shields ring on Shields, Fauchions with Fauchions clash,
And Flames from clatt'ring Arms, like Lightning, flash.
Thick Clouds of Dust obscure th'astonish'd Skys,
And on the Field ghastly Destruction lys.
Buckler lay heap'd on Buckler, Dead on Dead,
And sever'd Limbs and Heads the Ground o'erspread.
Loud Shouts, prodigious Clamour, warlike Sound.
From Hill to Hill, from Sphear to Sphear rebound.
The Neighings of the Coursers, and the Noise
Of batt'ring Arms, and raging Captains Voice,

118

Insulting Threats of Conq'rours, and the Prayer
Of vanquish'd Warriours, fill the ecchoing Air.
As when an Earthquake shakes the cavern'd Soil,
And rocking Mountains of Sicilia's Isle
Th'imprison'd Tempests bellowing in the Caves
Raise on the heaving Fields amazing Waves.
The Sea no more restrain'd by ancient Shores,
In new unfashion'd Channels foams, and roars.
The Ships, prodigious Sight! o'er Citys ride,
And sail amidst the Land without a Guide.
They leave the Harbour, and the Oazy Shore
To visit Forrests where they grew before.
The gaping Earth within her horrid Jaws
Hills with their Woods and sinking Citys draws.
Nature's disjoynted with the noisy Shock,
Mountain on Mountain falls, and Rock on Rock.
United Clamours and distracting Crys,
Fill all the Land, the Ocean, and the Skys.
So do's the Noise of Arms the Region scare,
Shaking the Ground, and rending all the Air.

Gaston mean time did their left Wing invade,
And thro' the British Files great Slaughter made.
He march'd along the Plain with Martial Grace,
Mighty of Bulk, and of Gigantic Race.
A while as Conq'rour he maintain'd the Field,
And to his Force the Britons long did yield.
Till aided by a fresh and strong Recruit
They rally'd, and reviv'd the hot Dispute.

119

The Britons with their Troops encompass'd round
Gaston advanc'd too far on hostile ground.
Archers their Arrows on the Champion spend,
And clouds of Spears the shouting Spearmen send.
Yet bravely still the Frank his ground maintain'd,
And on his ample Shield the War sustain'd.
So when arm'd Swains on the fam'd banks of Nile
Beset a fierce, Voracious Crocadile,
In vain their Darts, in vain their Spears assail
His scaly Sides, and native Coat of Mail.
On his hard Back they pour a fruitless War,
Which strait recoyls, but can't imprint a Scar.
So did the temper'd Steel unpierc'd repel
The Weapons which on Gaston's Buckler fell,
Like an Egyptian Obelisk he stood,
Or as a lofty brazen Pillar show'd,
Which grateful Citys out of high respect,
To Princes or Victorious Chiefs erect.
Thus stood the mighty Champion and defy'd
The various Deaths which flew on every side.
With proud Disdain he travers'd all the Ground
Then stood, and cast his Haughty Eyes around.
Aloud he cry'd, what have you not a Knight
In Battle bold, and brave enough in Fight
To come out hither and his fame advance,
By being slain by Gaston's Conquering Lance.
Then let him come, let him his Valour try,
And chuse the way by which he'd rather dy.
Will none step forth his name to Eternize,
For that he gains, who by this Weapon dys.

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While Gaston thus the British Knights defy'd,
And stalk'd around the Field in all his Pride.
The British Monarch he descry'd from far
Advancing thro' the Files to seek the War.
Then cry'd the Frank, yonder his Arms I see
On which depend your hopes of Victory.
He will not sure decline the glorious Fight,
Nor seek his Safety by a shameful Flight.
By this time Flying on with eager hast
Arthur advanc'd within a Javlin's cast,
Then thus he Cry'd, Gaston a Foe appears
Not us'd to Idle words, but active Spears.
Then from his Arm his mighty Spear he cast,
Exploded Light'ning scarcely flys so fast,
Which the strong Hero's sevenfold Buckler struck,
It past Six folds, but in the last it stuck.
Then Gaston with enormous fury burn'd,
And his Vast Spear with mighty force return'd.
When to discharge the Weapon he prepar'd,
He all his brawny Sinews strain'd so hard,
Such strength employ'd to give a mortal Stroke,
That as he threw, Fire from his Eyeballs broke.
Arthur who ne'er had felt the power of Fear
Receiv'd within his Shield the massy Spear.
Within the outmost folds the Point stuck fast,
And not the middle of its thickness past.
A shiv'ring Dread thro' both the Armys went,
On either side they fear'd the vast event.
Now from their Shields the Spears the Heros drew,
The next the British King with Vigor threw.

121

It pass'd his Shield, and passing did divide
The treble Plate, and fourfold Bullock's Hide,
Then pierc'd his Belly with a dreadful Wound,
Which tore his Flesh, that clos'd his Bowels round.
The Frank no longer could in Combate stand,
But threw his Spear and Buckler on the Sand,
And held his reeking Entrails in his Hand.
Off from the Field the wounded Chief did fly,
And fill'd the Region with a dismal Cry.
So when a bold Rhinoceros in Fight
With a strong Elephant compares his Might:
The noble Combate all the Forest fills,
And Terror strikes thro' all th'ecchoing Hills.
This with his Trunk invades, and every Blow
Rings on the scaly Armour of the Foe:
Who with his Horn do's on th'Assailant rush,
And makes a furious but a fruitless push.
The Warriours long a doubtful Fight maintain,
And spend a thousand noble Strokes in vain.
Till the Rhinoceros do's gore by chance
The Foe's soft Belly with his Horny Lance.
Then do's the Monster roar in tort'ring Pain,
And flying drags his Entrails o'er the Plain.

Mean time King Clotar with his massy Spear
His Passage to the Quarter strove to clear,
Where the Britannic King victorious stood,
And murth'ring Caliburno reek'd in Blood.
But as the raging Monarch swiftly past
High in the Chariot, valiant Maca cast

122

His furious Spear, which cut the liquid Air
Attended with the pious Warriour's Prayer.
Who cry'd, Good Heav'ns, the Weapon's Flight assist
And let not Clotar's Shield its Force resist;
Pierc'd by the Steel may he extended ly;
Kind Heav'n in part, did with the Prayer comply.
The Plate the Weapon's Progress could not stay
Which thro' the Monarch's Thigh strait made its Way.
A bloody Torrent all the Chariot stain'd,
And of his Wound the tortur'd King complain'd.
Exclaiming loud he bad his Charioteer
Turn his hot Steeds, and drive him to the Rear.

Soon as the Franks observ'd their Chief's defeat
And saw their Monarch from the Field retreat,
Their scatter'd Troops dismaid began to yield,
And disarray'd forsook the bloody Field.
The British Youth pursu'd them as they fled,
And all the Ground with fearful Slaughter spred.
Till Night advancing did their Fury stay,
Night to the Franks more welcome than the Day.

123

BOOK V.

The Chiefs returning from the hot Pursuit
Did with becoming Joy their Friends salute.
But all lamented mighty Shobar's Fall,
A Chief rever'd, applauded, lov'd by all.
But summon'd now King Arthur to attend
To his high Tent they did their Footsteps bend.
The British Monarch from his Chair of State
Began, the Captains did around him wait.
Th'Allmighty Lord of Hosts whom we adore
Has added to the past this Triumph more.
First to propitious Heav'n the Praise is due
For this Success, and next, brave Men, to you.
Your Arms this Day have rais'd the British Name,
And equall'd your great Father's Warlike Fame.
The Courage and the Conduct you have shown,
Your Faithfulness long try'd, and so well known,
Assure me, you will Clotar's Force sustain,
Whilst I my Troops forsake to pass the Main.
Know, Britons, some in Albion left behind,
Impatient, proud, and turbulent of Mind,
Intestine Heats and civil Feuds create,
And with seditious Arts embroil the State.

124

I therefore to Britannia must return
To quench the Flames wherewith the Britons burn.
When from its Fears my Kingdom I have freed,
Back to the Camp I'll come with equal Speed.
Till I return to the Neustrasian Strand,
Solmar in chief my Army shall command.
Seek not again t'engage the Gallic Host,
But with defensive Arms maintain your Post.
Such valiant Troops can never be annoy'd,
If private Strife and Contests they avoid.
He ceas'd. The Captains by their Aspect show'd
The Joy was sunk which from their Conquest flow'd.
They griev'd to hear the pious King relate
What Strife embroil'd Britannia's troubled State;
Which forc'd him to forsake the Gallic Soil,
To re-establish Peace in Albion's Isle.
Then from his Princely Seat King Arthur rose
Intending Albion's Tumults to compose.
Now did the Morn her radiant Lap display,
And gently on the Air shook forth the Day.
When strait the King his Chariot did demand,
And took his Way to the Neustrasian Strand.
Valiant Gravellan did his Prince attend,
And faithful Lucius Arthur's bosom Friend.
Soon as they reach'd the Shore without Delay
They all embark'd, and strait stood out to Sea.
The bounding Vessel ran before the Wind,
Leaving Neustrasia's Rocks and Towers behind.

125

And when the rising Sun dispell'd the Night,
The Regnian Strand appear'd within their Sight.
Soon as they came on Shore they took the Way
To Domar's Castle, there resolv'd to stay,
Till brave Gravellan should return, who sent
To learn the State of things t'Augusta went,
And down from thence his chiefest Frinds to bring.
Fit to assist and to advise the King.
Thrice had th'unweary'd Sun his Chariot driv'n
O'er the wide Plains and trackless Wast of Heav'n.
When the wise Lord return'd, and with him came
The Peers and Prelates of distinguish'd Fame
For Zeal and Wisdom, Men who ever stood
For Arthur's Glory, and their Country's Good.
Then Albion's pious Monarch Silence broke
And thus the Prelates and the Peers bespoke.
For Britain's Safety to express my Care
I leave in Gallia an unfinish'd War.
My Arms have met Success, but Zeal for you
Will not permit our Conquests to pursue.
What Feuds some Peers and Prelates ill dispos'd
Have rais'd, Gravellan has before disclos'd,
But what has happen'd since do you relate,
And tell the present Posture of the State.
Suggest some ready and effectual Way
To check Sedition, and its Progress stay.
Britannia might despise all forreign Power,
If from contentious Sons she stood secure.

126

Her Strength abroad is formidable grown,
No Arms can shake her Greatness but her own.
Only our Strife can Clotar's Empire Guard,
Obstruct our Triumphs, and our Arms retard.
Only your Feuds can sinking Gallia prop,
Your Feuds their Refuge, and their single hope.
Then Reverend Arman for his Learning known
And his Capacious Genius thus begun.
Illustrious Monarch! whose Victorious hand
From Pagan Kings and Gods has sav'd the Land,
Urg'd by Affection and a Loyal Zeal,
The Cause of our Distractions I'll reveal.
The Liberty Sectarians have enjoy'd
By your Indulgence, has our Peace destroy'd.
At first they cry'd, Indulgence would content,
Ease they demanded, but Dominion meant.
For since from Punishment they live secure,
And dread no more an unarm'd Church's Power,
They now disclose their Malice, and their Pride,
Affront our Order, and our Laws deride.
They boast the Court Sectarians dos befriend,
And dare for Empire with the Church contend.
Freedom and Ease they know not how to use,
But gentle Monarchs favours still abuse.
Peevish, Illnatur'd, Proud and Arrogant
They crave still more, and still more Merit vaunt.
Those who to give a troubled Kingdom Ease
Cherish these restless Sects, do but release
Outragious Winds to calm th'unquiet Seas.

127

Such call the Foe in, to Protect the Town,
Or dig before the Flood their Fences down.
This Pious Prince is sad Britannia's fate
While Sects let loose disturb our Church and State.
Cheer'd with indulgent Rays the monstrous Brood
Like Vermin hatch'd in Nile's prolific Mud,
O'erspread the Land, th'uneasy State molest,
Devour our Country, and the Church infest.
The Sediment which at the bottom lay
From the pure Church thrown down and purg'd away,
Awaken'd now, attempts a fresh ascent,
And with new Strife the Struggling Parts ferment.
Sectarian Dreggs audacious are become,
Rise up and on the top appear in Scum.
The Church can ne'er be from Disorders free
Till fin'd, and rackt from this unquiet Lee.
I labour'd once to give Sectarians Ease,
And thought Indulgence might Establish Peace;
With Youthful Zeal I did aslert their Cause,
And strove to blunt the Edge of Penal Laws.
But long Experience and Maturer Thought
Make me retract the Deed, and own the Fault.
I know th'Ambitious Race, they only claim
The Right of Subjects, but at Empire aim.
Which when they grasp, they Cruel Tyrants grow
And unknown Rigour to their Subjects show.
They lash with Scorpions, who complain'd before
Of the mild Whips that show'd the Churches Power.
With Tragic Clamours they for Freedom strive,
Which they when Masters ne'er to others give.

128

The Church's temperate Empire they destroy,
That they themselves a wider may enjoy.
'Tis not in point of Power we disagree,
But who should be the Rulers they or we.
For, pious Prince, since by Compassion mov'd
You first th'Indulgence of the Sects approv'd,
Th'aspiring Race deliver'd from the Awe
Of Court Displeasure, and coercive Law,
Stand over us insulting, threaten high
And treat with Scorn the sacred Hierarchy.
Their Contumacy, Pride, and Insolence
Justly the Lovers of the Church Incense.
Her Sons too far transported with their Rage,
For her Protection now in Arms engage.
The Trait'rous Deed all highly must condemn,
But would you soon th'impetuous Torrent stem,
Would you at once the threatning Troops disarm,
Which o'er Brittania's troubled Region swarm,
Against audacious Schismaticks declare,
With Vigor carry on the Pious War.
Revoke th'Indulgence granted, and restore
To Britain's ancient Church her ancient Power.
Her Friends whom now too much Resentment warms,
Will at your royal Feet cast down their Arms.
This pious Edict will their Troops disband,
Secure your Throne, and bless with Peace the Land.
Then mighty Monarch unmolested you
Your glorious Triumphs may abroad pursue.

129

He said, and ancient Ladan silence broke
And gravely thus the British King bespoke.
Th'Expedient Reverend Arman do's suggest,
T'appease the Tumults which the State molest.
Great Prince, do's fully with my Judgment suit;
It lays the Axe home to Sedition's Root.
The civil Broils which Albion discompose
From Fears and anxious Jealousies arose,
Lest the proud Sects which kindly you protect,
Should once their Empire o'er the Church erect.
'Tis true, that some who with the Rebels joyn,
Their Country's Fall, and Gallia's Growth design;
But if those Troops which for the Church appear
Submit their Arms, the rest we need not fear.
Now 'tis with Reason that the Church suspects
The Growth of proud, morose, designing Sects.
I've long observ'd their Pride and Arrogance,
And what destructive Doctrines they advance.
Where they prevail the Church is soon defac'd,
Becomes a wild, uncultivated Wast.
A horrid Wilderness wherein we see
The monstrous Forms of howling Heresy.
Where Grisly Schism, and raging Strife appear
And raving Sects each other rend and tear.
Where mad Enthusiasm and Discord reign,
And endless Errors endless War maintain.
These sad Effects their Liberty abus'd
Thro' Albion's Isle already has produc'd.

130

Audacious Schismaticks with lawless Pride
Affront the Church, and all her Laws deride.
Now Heresy her odious Head do's rear,
And fresh engender'd Monsters thick appear,
Which run upon the Church with open Jaws
And fasten in her Wounds their dreadful Claws.
Ev'n ancient Heresys which once annoy'd
The Church's Peace, but seem'd long since destroy'd,
Now chear'd and warm'd by this indulgent Heat,
Stretch out their hideous Limbs, and Life and Vigor get.
Since the Rebellious Britons but reveal
In a Religious Cause an erring Zeal,
And for themselves alledge they flew to Arms
To save their Altars from the Foe's Alarms;
I must for Arman's wise Advice declare,
As likely to prevent th'Effects of War.
Th'Indulgence granted to the Sects revoke
And thus Sedition's quell'd without a Stroke.

He ceas'd. And Reverend Olbar rose and spoke.
The Gospel Genius and a Christian Mind
All fierce destructive Methods still declin'd.
Our Founder did not raise his Regal Throne
By his Opposers Suff'rings, but his own.
He gave his Church no Arms for her Defence,
But Wisdom joyn'd with Dove-like Innocence.
He always taught his Followers to profess
Meekness Divine, and God-like Gentleness.
When urg'd by eager Zealots to employ
Fire e'en from Heav'n Opposers to destroy,

131

He us'd no other Flames, but those of Love,
The gentle Fire he brought down from above.
The blest Restorer of undone Mankind
With soft and mild perswasive Ways inclin'd
The World his Heav'nly Mission to believe,
And his bright Train of Blessings to receive.
He us'd no other Force, no other Arms
But Mercy's tender Crys and Pity's Charms.
And all his Followers he oblig'd to be
Gentle, and kind, and merciful as he.
He gave Command they should in Friendship live,
Patient of Wrongs, and easie to forgive.
Mutual Forbearance, Meekness, Peace and Love
Which fashion Men like the pure Minds above,
He oft declar'd were Heav'nly Marks disign'd
To make them known from th'unbelieving Kind.
He never arm'd his Church with Regal Power,
Nor bad the strong the weaker Part devour.
He to the valiant Champions of the Faith
Allow'd the Serpent's Wisdom, not his Teeth.
He came from Heav'n lost Blessings to restore
But took from Men none they possest before.
He ne'er pronounc'd Error or Unbelief,
Just Forfeitures of Liberty or Life.
He never bad his Church for Arms declare
Nor taught the Rules and Stratagems of War.
He never show'd them how Campaigns to make,
How to defend, and how they should attack.
He ne'er instructed them in future Days
When numerous grown, what Bulwarks they should raise.

132

What Forts and Cittadels they should erect
The Church's sacred Frontier to protect.
He came to save Mens Lives, and not to Kill,
And therefore taught no Military Skill.
No Models left of Arsenals to be reer'd,
Nor said what Warlike Stores should be prepar'd.
His Church he ne'er Commanded to Amass
Spears, Fauchions, Helmets, Shields and Boots of Brass.
Her Valiant Champions first with Error strove
In Arms Divine, and Armour from above,
Immortal Truth, and Light, and Heav'nly Love.
Thus Arm'd the Chiefs their glorious Course pursu'd,
Defeated Vice, and Ignorance subdu'd.
Error before them fled, and Pagan Gods
Of Light impatient, left their old abodes.
Then a wide Empire Christian Faith possest,
And Truth Divine Believing Nations blest.
The White European and the Swarthy Moor,
With a like flame Religion did adore.
So powerful then were her Celestial Arms,
So bright her Form, so ravishing her Charms,
That where she came th'obsequious World obey'd,
And at her Altars due Devotion paid.
But when she once her Heav'nly Strength forsook,
And in Exchange Terrestrial Weapons took,
When Martial Faith in Armour first appear'd,
And in the Field her bloody Standard reer'd,
Advancing like an Amazonian Dame
To vanquish Heresy with Sword and Flame;

133

The World at such a Figure stood amaz'd,
And on the hideous Sight with horror gaz'd.
Against her Throne the Nations soon rebell'd,
And Arms with Arms, and Power with Power repell'd.
Her Innocence, her Love, and Meekness lost,
The warlike Church could no new Triumphs boast.
She soon was stopt in her Victorious Course,
Weak by her Arms, and impotent by Force.
Christ's peaceful Flock with Wolves devouring Jaws,
And his meek Dove arm'd with the Faulcon's Claws,
Prodigious Monsters to the World appear'd,
No longer to be lov'd, and scarcely fear'd.

Religion thus against it self was arm'd,
And Civil War the troubled Church alarm'd!
Temple contended Temple to subdue,
And Flames from Altars against Altars flew.
Religion endless Revolutions saw,
And all by turns were Orthodox by Law.
The Men condemn'd for Hereticks before
Grew Apostolic, as they grew in Power.
Prevailing Sects did weaker Sects invade,
And Desolation not Conversions made.
For Pain and Suff'rings may indeed affright,
But can't perswade us with Convincing Light.
Torments 'tis true strong Arguments appear,
But 'tis not to our Reason, but our Fear.
Our Heav'nly Founder who at distance saw
Ambitious Churchmen back'd with Power and Law,

134

Their Peaceful Neigbours would with force invade,
Disarm'd the Gown, and Violence forbad.
Nor do those Princes for their Peace provide,
Who with one Sect against all others side.
Those Counsels therefore Arman gives for Peace
Both as unjust, and dangerous too, displease.
He ceas'd. Then noble Sefel did begin,
Of Prince like Presence, and Majestic Mien.
A noble Genius to the Muses dear,
Yet none knew better how the State to steer
Whom every Minister and every Bard
With equal Awe, and Rev'rence did regard.
To form the wondrous Man great Pompey's Mind,
And Tully's flowing Eloquence combin'd.
All Orators grew proud who gain'd his praise,
And where he pleas'd he gave the Poet's Bays.
All charg'd with lessening or debasing Wit
His Sentence did Condemn, or did Acquit.
The trembling Bards at his Tribunal stood,
None prais'd their Songs, till he pronounc'd them good.
None strove with greater Prudence to compose
Contentious Heats, which in the Church arose.
Then this wise Briton thus himself exprest,
And show'd how Albion's Strife might be supprest.
Subjects who Tribute to their Monarch pay,
And Peacefully his just Commands obey,
With highest Justice from their Prince expect
He should their Lives and Libertys protect.

135

No Errors in Religion can destroy
Th'Immunitys which we, as Men, enjoy.
Those whom the Churchmen as Sectarians blame,
Lose not the Rights which they as Subjects claim.
The Sacred Laws our Heav'nly Author made,
Were not to force Belief, but to Perswade.
Prisons were ne'er for Christian Schools design'd,
Nor Whips and Racks for Arguments enjoyn'd.
Unless our Wills could Laws to Reason give,
And Man could what he pleas'd, as Truth believe,
Force for Conversion is employ'd in vain;
Whose Judgment ever was inform'd by Pain?
Churches should Arms forbear till they agree
On some unerring mark of Heresy.
Some Christians call'd, of Antichristian mind,
To Force and not to Argument inclin'd.
To take the Sword lay down the Pastor's Crook,
And into Wolves convert their Peaceful Flock.
Forth against Schism they march exclaiming loud,
And make the Church a reeking Field of Blood.
These Sons of Thunder thus the Gospel Preach,
And red in Slaughter Heav'nly Meekness teach.
These Men perswade, and make their Doctrines known,
Not by th'Almighty's Terrours, but their own.
Declining Reason's mild perswasive Course,
They Press for Heav'n, and Christians Lift by force.
These from the Temple's Battlements display
The bloody Flag, and draw out in Array
Their Warlike Orders, who Embattled stand
With Sabres, not the Gospel in their hand.

136

Then breathing Fire, they March Mankind to free
From Hereticks, as well as Heresy.
How ill her Arms and Military dress
The Gentle, Meek and Passive Church express?
How will this Equipage and strange disguise,
The mild Restorer of Mankind surprise?
How will he like his Vineyard which appears
A Bulwark'd Camp all planted o'er with Spears?
How will he know his Church in Tented Fields,
Midst Chariots, Steeds, bright Helms and blazing Shields?
How will he know her when with Conquest proud,
Laden with Spoils and Garments roll'd in blood?
These Arm'd Evangelists must sure displease
Their Gentle Lord, the Prince of Love and Peace.
When Converts first were in Britannia made,
The Christian Planters only did perswade.
When they were few, easy to be supprest,
Then the Religion which the Sword possest,
Was not allow'd a Right to crush the rest:
Then Persecution was aloud condemn'd,
And Violence the highest Crime esteem'd.
And shall the Christians strong and numerous grown,
The Maxims which advanc'd their Church disown?
Shall they Assert an Antichristian Power
Their disagreeing Neighbours to devour,
Which if the Pagan Princes had employ'd,
The Christian Church long since had been destroy'd?
But grant the Church Sectarians may restrain
Inflicting rigorous Penaltys and Pain,

137

Grant too that this the Rebels will appease,
Who will have none, if others have their Ease?
Will this Britannia's troubled State compose,
Or dry the Spring whence our Disturbance flows?
Will not th'opprest Sectarian think it hard
To be of Rights to Subjects due debar'd?
Will Arthur thus their Services reward?
Those who themselves and humane Nature know
Foresee the Mischiefs that from hence must slow.
Those whom unjust Severities provoke
Will struggle hard to break th'uneasy Yoke.
All will conspire, as they Occasion find,
To sink a Government to them unkind.
Whom States oppress they Enemys create,
Who, when they safely can, express their Hate.
If Princes but a Party will protect,
They on a narrow Base their Throne erect,
And can't be more than Monarchs of a Sect.
Wise Princes who would lasting Peace create,
And from all restless Bigots save the State,
Should not on any side their Power engage,
But guard the weaker from the Stronger's Rage.
No Fav'rite Party should their Sword employ,
Those, whom they cannot proselite, to destroy.
Wise Parents if their Sons for Power contest,
Will no one aid to Ruin all the rest.
Monarchs who seek their own and Subjects Ease,
Between contending Sects should keep the Peace.
All will obey when all Protection find,
And Rev'rence Kings without Distinction kind.

138

Could greater Number, Power, or Splendor shew
What Churches are erroneons, what are true,
Yet peaceful Subjects have a just Pretence
To be secur'd from Force and Violence:
I still would guard Sectarians from the Awe
Of Courts of Justice and coercive Law.
This will to all the Government commend,
And every Subject will be too a Friend.
Freely to speak my Sense in this Debate,
The Way suggested to compose the State
By ceasing all Sectarians to protect,
Because not just, nor wise, I would reject.
I would perswade King Arthur to decree,
And strait proclaim a gen'ral Amnesty.
This would the Rebels into Friends convert,
And make the British Youth their Chiefs desert.
The Britons soon grow hot, but soon repent,
They threaten high, but with soft Words relent.
Their Love to Liberty and ancient Laws,
Oft turns to Jealousy without a Cause:
With whose impatient Flames they quickly burn,
But to their Temper do as soon return.
Their Passions swell, but easily subside,
Kind Looks, and Words repress th'o'erflowing Tide.
The Rebels sure must dread King Arthur's Name,
And think on their Ingratitude with Shame.
The common Men by specious Words misled
Begin the fatal Consequence to dread.
A general Pardon then to all declare
And you prevent the sad Effects of War.

139

He ceas'd and most applauded his Advice:
The British Monarch, as an Angel wise,
Who by his God-like Temper was inclin'd
To Pity, and support opprest Mankind,
With Olbar's and with Sefel's Language mov'd
Their Prudence and their Piety approv'd.
Mean time the Rebels at Cononium lay,
And as their Head did Morogan obey,
When they had heard that on the Regnian Strand,
The pious King was safely come to Land.
Their Monarch's Presence some began to dread,
And in their Breasts a secret Terror fed.
They trembled at his Arms, and Warlike Fame,
And seem'd already vanquish'd with his Name.
Some of a less ungrateful Mind begun
To think of all the Wonders he had done
And what his Arms had for Britannia won.
How to a Thousand various Dangers, he
To save Britannia's State by Land and Sea,
Midst Storms and more inexorable Foes,
His sacred Life did freely oft expose.
What vast Herculean Toyl he underwent
Albion's impending Ruin to prevent.
What Patience, what amazing Fortitude,
The God-like Man in endless Labour shew'd,
Britannia's Peace and Freedom to restore,
To raise her Glory, and extend her Power.

140

Many for this who dar'd in Arms appear
Mov'd by their Gratitude, or by their Fear
In numerous Bodys did the Camp forsake,
And by Desertion left the Rebels weak.
They now their Levity, and Folly mourn'd,
And to their Houses and their Farms return'd.
Amongst the Rebels hence disorders grew,
And great Distrust and Contests did ensue.
The Leaders saw they could no more depend
On their rash Troops their Treason to defend.
They found the British Youth would never stand
Against an Host where Arthur did Command.
Then Morogan perplex'd his Servants sent,
To call the Chief Commanders to his Tent:
That they might all things prudently debate
That to th'Important Juncture did relate.
Straight to their Gen'rals high Pavilion came
The Chiefs of highest Trust, and greatest Name.
To whom the General thus himself addrest,
Britons, you see the Zeal which some exprest
For Albion's Liberty is soon expir'd:
You see, what Troops are from our Camp retir'd.
A fresh example here, brave Friends, you see
Of the weak Vulgars Fear and Levity.
Speak what you think a prudent Man should do,
Shall we desist, or our Design pursue?
Then many Chiefs did various ways suggest
Which they believ'd in this Conjuncture best.

141

But while in sharp debate they did oppose
Each other's Counsel, great disturbance rose.
Then Adal who in Wisdom all the rest,
And Eloquence excell'd, his Thoughts exprest.
Britons, with great astonishment we see
The Wavering Crowd do's from our Banners flee.
The Vulgar we by this sad Instance find,
As Seas unstable, changing as the Wind.
All our Affairs are now in such a State,
As must oblige us to Capitulate.
With any Terms King Arthur will comply,
That shall disarm a British Enemy.
His Heart is so on Foreign Conquest set,
He'll easily what's done at home forget.
He would abroad be for a Hero shown,
Nor cares at home to know or to be known.
To our Demands no doubt he'll soon assent,
Domestic War and Tumults to prevent.
The Terms on which I'm willing to agree,
Are first an Universal Amnesty.
That all who please may undisturb'd retreat,
Or to their City, or their Rural Seat.
And all who in the State have been employ'd
Shall keep the Places they before enjoy'd.
But all the Chiefs and Captains who declare
They'll serve King Arthur in his Foreign War,
When they attend him to the Gallic Land,
They in his Troops shall have the same Command.

142

He ceas'd. The rest fearing an ill Event,
In loud Applauses gave a full Assent.
So when the Dogs that chase a timorous Hind
Which e'er the Lawns flys swifter than the Wind,
Are at a fault, and now enjoy no more
The cheerful Scent that lay so hot before:
If some Stanch Hound who rarely do's mistake,
In great Esteem and Credit with the Pack,
Opens, to tell that he the Scent has found,
The rest attending to the joyful sound,
In his Experience and his Skill confide,
And follow with full Cry their faithful Guide.
Then four Commanders from the rest they chose,
In whom they all could Confidence repose.
Who to the Castle where King Arthur lay,
To make this Overture strait took their way.
Where they arriv'd during the great debate,
About the measures to compose the State.
Which ended, they admitted to the King,
The Meslage told they had in Charge to bring.
The Pious Monarch who his Subjects lov'd,
By tender Mercy and Compassion mov'd,
To win the Rebels hearts did soon agree,
To grant the Universal Amnesty.
Nor did he think it prudent to withstand,
Those other Terms the Rebels did demand.
That he henceforth might undisturb'd pursue
His high design King Clotar to subdue.

143

That he his Forreign Conquests might repeat,
And the Deliv'rance of the Gauls compleat.
For Crafty Adal wisely did suggest
That the chief Passion in King Arthur's breast
Was Liberty to Neustria to restore,
And free the Christian Franks from Clotar's power.
The Messengers that from the Rebels went
Back to their Friends were by King Arthur sent.
Where they their Monarch's gracious Pardon read,
As was agreed, at every Squadron's head.
That done, the Chiefs did all their Troops disband,
And from Seditious Uproar freed the Land.
Thus did Britannia's jarring Discord Cease,
And in its place return'd Harmonious Peace.
So soon King Arthur's Fame and Presence quell'd
The Discontented Britons who Rebel'd.
As when a Heav'nly Angel comes to Chase
Infernal Fiends from some Inchanted Place.
Forthwith th'Inchantment's force is gone, and Hell
No longer Aids the black Magician's Spell.
Th'Imaginary Castles disappear,
The brazen Gates and Bulwarks melt to Air.
No Warriours more in Airy Armour stand,
Griping prodigious Bucklers in their hand:
Phantastic Monsters are no longer seen,
But all the Pageant Horrors quit the Scene.
The struggling Air throws off the Magic Chains,
And strait appear sweet Meads and flowry Plains.

144

So all the Terrours which did Albion feare,
At Arthur's Presence vanish'd into Air.
The Briton who with ardent Zeal did burn,
Back to his Troops in Gallia to return.
Now all things for his Voyage did prepare,
And to protect Britannia did declare
What Lords he did invest with Regal Power
In whom both Prince and People were Secure.
Olbar was first a mild and prudent Guide,
Who o'er Britannia's Churches did preside.
Nor Care nor Pains th'Indulgent Pastor spar'd,
Nor Vigilance his Flock to Feed and Guard.
His Erudition did their Reverence move,
And his diffusive Charity their Love.
His Christian Temper oft Contention charm'd,
And the hot Bigots of all Sects disarm'd.
By Moderation, Patience, Gentleness
And Candor which to all he did express.
He ever strove th'Erroneous to reduce,
Who to the Church Obedience did refuse.
But he Employ'd to set their Judgments right,
No Force but Reason's mild but powerful Light.
Resolv'd on Truth and not on Power to stand
He did the Lictors of the Church disband.
Arista was the next whom all Men prais'd,
To Honour by distinguish'd Merit rais'd.

145

Such was his Justice, such his Eloquence
So strong his Thought, so solid was his Sense,
So well his Wisdom was in Albion known,
That all his Judgment prais'd, to shew their own.
His universal Genius was refin'd
With Sciences, and Arts of every kind,
All held with Ease in his capacious Mind.
In Arthur's Cause he did such Zeal declare,
To serve the State such was his Toyl and Care,
None his high Station did with Envy view,
For all believ'd it to his Merit due.
He with his Wit could when he pleas'd surprise,
But he supprest it, choosing to be Wise.
None better knew the Business of the State,
Clear as the Day, and as the Night sedate.
Fav'rite and Patriot he the Secret knew
How both to Prince and People to be true,
He made their Intrests one, and shew'd the Way
To serve the first, and not the last betray.
Happy Britannia had in after Days
Thy Statesmen strove thy Glory thus to raise.
Had they not toyl'd with anxious Care and Sweat,
To make themselves, and not their Country great.
Had they not Law and Right and Justice sold,
And form'd their Judgments by inlight'ning Gold.
Hebar was next of noble Parents born,
No Peer did more King Arthur's Count adorn
Nor Archimedes, nor the Stagirite
Could boast a clearer intellectual Light.

146

For he th'extensive Power of Nature knew
Whose secret Springs lay open to his View.
She all her wondrous Skill to him disclos'd,
And all the Myst'ry of her Work expos'd.
Great was his Genius as by Nature wrought,
But 'twas by Art to such Perfection brought,
By Contemplation and laborious Thought.
Tho Nature, Art and painful Industry
To make th'accomplish'd Man did all agree,
Yet was he humble, affable, and kind
The true Distinctions of a noble Mind.
All in a Statesman were amaz'd to see
Such spotless Honour, and Integrity.
Courteous without betraying Vertue's Cause,
Just to his Prince, but not beyond the Laws.
He both to Church and State alike was true,
And gave to Cæsar and to God their Due.
Canvallo next. The Land did not afford
To represent a King a sitter Lord.
No Peer did ever grace the British Court
With such a noble and Majestic Port.
Like Saul amidst the Hebrew Knights he stood,
His Head and Shoulders rais'd above the Crowd.
And yet with no less Kindness Nature joyn'd
To such a graceful Frame an equal Mind.
The next was Galbut of illustrious Birth,
Of perfect Honour, and unrivall'd Worth.

147

Whose Vertues thro' the Isle assiduous Fame
Yet for the Task unequal did proclaim.
With these King Arthur Sakil did unite,
Sakil the People's and the Court's Delight.
Arthur did envy'd Favour to him shew,
As all wife Monarchs to the Muses do.
So the fam'd Conquerour of the spacious East
To the great Stagyrite his Love exprest,
Augustus so the Roman Wit carest.
Danmonian was the last, a noble Lord
Bred in a Court, yet faithful to his Word.
All in his Honour might securely trust,
To promise slow, but in Performance just.
His Words were full and pertinent, but few,
For sparingly he spoke, but always true.
None better knew the Art of Government
To guard the State, and Dangers to prevent.
Skilful to lay a Masterly Design,
And as expert the Foe to undermine.
These were the noble Lords King Arthur chose,
In whom th'important Trust he might repose.
He did to these commit th'Imperial Power,
Yet they with Pain the Weight of Empire bore
Which singly he with Ease sustain'd before.
Thus did the Hero Albion's State appease
And settled all things for its future Ease.

148

And now he wish'd himself on Neustria's Coast,
Impatient to rejoyn the British Host.
Back to his Ships with eager Hast he flew,
His glorious Undertaking to pursue.

149

BOOK VI.

The Prince of Hell finding his purpose crost,
And all his hopes from Albion's Troubles lost,
Thus to himself began all fir'd with Rage.
Against this Briton must we then engage
Our Arts in vain, must he our Force repel,
And disappoint the deep Designs of Hell?
Must he continue to advance his Arms,
And vex our Empire with his loud Alarms;
Hard Fate, Infernal Gods, if this proud Wight
Must scape our Snares, and baffle all our might.
Still with Success have I the Sect pursu'd,
Vanquish'd their Armys, and their Towns subdu'd.
If Force and open Violence have fail'd,
Discord and mighty Schism have still prevail'd.
Their strongest Bulwarks have I overthrown
Or by my Subjects Arms, or by their own.
And shall this Briton thus my Power defeat,
And force my Priests and Vot'rys to retreat
And fly from Town to Town, from Seat to Seat
If Aid I can't to high Lutetia bring,
And guard her Towers against the British King,
I must my Temples Abdicate, and make
My fixt abode within th'Infernal Lake.

150

Did I exert such Strength, such Toyl sustain
T'invade this World, did I with wondrous pain
And wondrous Art beat out th'untrodden way
Till Earth I found and the Mild Coasts of Day?
From Hell's Abyss with mighty Force I sprung,
And in the Stagnant, gloomy Region hung;
Unbroken with my Flight and endless Care,
With lab'ring Wings I beat the pondrous Air.
Without a glympse or ray of Light I past
The Realms of Night, and all the Stygian wast,
Till I arriv'd upon the noisy Shore
Where the Tempestuous waves of Chaos roar:
With God-like Courage and with Looks unchang'd
I plung'd into the Deep, and o'er the Desart rang'd.
Now soaring high I did the way explore,
Now round I flew, now swept the bleaky Shore.
Undaunted I pursu'd my toilsom Flight
O'er horrid Wilds, and lonesome Plains of Night;
Thro' dreadful Tempests, Whirlwinds, blustring War
Fierce Strife, and hostile Rage, till from afar
I did with wondrous Joy descry at last
Some Streaks of Light, which darted on the Wast;
Pale Beams that on the face of Chaos lay
The glim'ring Fragments of the Ruin'd Day.
Mounting this way I reach'd the lightsome Sky;
And saw the beauteous World before me ly.
The fresh Creation look'd all charming mild,
And all the Flowry Face of Nature smil'd.
To me come newly from the Caves beneath
Thro' Smoke and Flame, what an Ambrosial breath

151

What Odours, such as Heav'nly Zephirs blow
From the sweet Mouth of th'Infant World did flow?
Charm'd with the Clime and ravish'd with the Air
To gain these Regions was my anxious Care.
And spite of Heav'n the mighty Deed was done,
And from th'Allmighty this fair World I won.
Shall I so rich and sweet a Region quit
And see my Franks to Christian Arms submit?
If all the Arts, and all the Power of Hell
Can stop his Course, the Briton I'll repel.

Mean time upon his Adamantine Throne
That high amidst th'Etherial Region shone
Th'Eternal fate, collected in his Might,
Girt with Omnipotence, and cloath'd with Light.
The Sons of God who serve his high Command
Adoring round the sacred Mount did stand:
Angels, Arch-Angels, great Seraphic States
Heav'n's Viceroys, Generals, and great Potentates,
Who o'er Terrestrial Provinces preside,
And their respective Realms, and Empires guide
The mighty Princes of the spacious East
With Ganges Flood and fam'd Euphrates blest.
The Guardian Angels which for Parthia stand,
Who rule soft Persia and th'Arabian Sand.
The Presidents of the vast Tract of Nile
Of Lybia, and the Mauritanian Soil.
All the Protectors of the Sun-burnt Moor
From the Red Sea, to Guinea's Golden Shore.

152

And all th'Angelic Prefects who preside
O'er rich Europa, and her Realms divide.
Who the wide Seythian Continent direct,
And all the snowy Northern Isles protect.
While round the Throne these shining Orders wait
Their great Transactions humbly to relate.
Whelm'd over with unsufferable Light
With Wings display'd they screen their troubled Sight.
Hither a Thousand bright Expresses came
Envoys divine, and Couriers wing'd with Flame,
Return'd from distant Worlds to tell at large
Th'important Business which they had in Charge.

Hither repair'd ambitious Lucifer,
And in the bright Assembly did appear;
Distinguish'd by his Form so much decay'd,
And the deep Scars by vengeful Lightning made.
Like a torn Oak above the verdant Wood
Blasted from Heav'n the ruin'd Seraph stood;
Prepar'd the Just and Upright to arraign,
And his black Charge with Slanders to maintain.
When the blest Seraphs had Narration made
How their Instructions they had all obey'd,
What Revolutions they had caus'd below,
What Kingdoms guarded from th'unequal Foe.
What Monarchs Lust of Empire they restrain'd
What Kings advanc'd, what sinking States sustain'd.
What mighty Nations they had overthrown
By monstrous Crimes ripe for Destruction grown.

153

Then thus th'Allmighty from his lofty Throne
Which bright with uncreated Glory shone
To Satan spoke. Usurper of the Air
Whence dost thou come to these blest Seats, declare.

Th'Apostate thus return'd. I dayly rowl
From farthest East to West, from Pole to Pole.
O'er Hills and Dales I pass, o'er Lands and Floods
O'er howling Desarts, Wilds, and spacious Woods.
I cross the raging Seas from Isle to Isle,
And fly from Realm to Realm with endless Toil,
To learn the State of Empires, and to know
What busy Mortals say and do below.
O'er the Terrestrial Regions thus I roam,
And now from wandring there, am hither come.

Th'Eternal to th'Impostor thus reply'd:
In all thy tedious Journeys far and wide
Hast thou observ'd my Servant Arthur's Ways,
That just and perfect Man who still obeys
With chearful Zeal and Pleasure my Command
And rules with equal Laws the British Land.
Whom I've anointed, Tyrants to destroy
And proud Oppressors who the World annoy.
To ease th'afflicted and relieve the poor
And banish'd Peace and Justice to restore.

Then Lucifer reply'd:
'Tis true King Arthur in the Field succeeds,
And by his Arms atchieves Heroic Deeds.

154

His Zeal seems great to serve the Christian Cause,
And his vast Labors have procur'd Applause.
But do's the pious Monarch serve for nought,
And Vertue's Cause for Vertue's sake promote?
Is all this Zeal for pure Religion shown?
Do's he pursue Heav'n's Int'rest, or his own?
Do's not a steep insuperable Mound
Rais'd by thy Hand this Briton's Throne surround?
Fenc'd thus about he do's the Foe despise,
Mocks all their Rage, and all their Power defys.
Do not Seraphic Squadrons aid his Arms,
And guard his Camp against the Foe's Alarms?
Do not the bright, divine Militia stand,
Immortal Sabres flaming in their Hand
Around this Fav'rite Monarch, to direct
His Conduct, and his Armys to protect?
Do's not the Angel of thy Presence lead
His Armys forth, and his Battalions head?
'Tis known he still attends him in the Field,
And do's his Head in the hot Battle shield.
He watches always with officious Care
To guard his Life from the sharp Edge of War.
He in the Front of Battle do's appear
And shakes against the Host his dreadful Spear.
He marches on before him to the Foe
Divides their Files, and lets this Favourite thro'.
No Wonder then he should such Laurels gain,
And ride so oft triumphant o'er the slain.
That vanquish'd Nations should receive his Yoke,
For those that him oppose, thy Wrath provoke.

155

In vain his Foes their hot Revenge pursue,
He must prevail, till Heav'n they first subdue.
Tho various Deaths in horrid Shapes convey'd
On every side th'encircled King invade,
Tho' Showers of Darts and glitt'ring Javelins fly,
Hissing, like deadly Adders thro' the Sky:
Tho' o'er the bloody Field Destruction reigns
And loads with ghastly Heaps the slipp'ry Plains,
Arthur encompass'd with Celestial Bands,
As if a God invulnerable stands.
Those Heav'n defends from Danger are secure,
And those it fights for, are of Triumph sure.
King Arthur's Arms immortal Wreaths have won
By Power receiv'd from hence, and not his own.
Th'admiring World profusely praise bestow,
And worship Arthur as a God below.
In time they'll Altars to his Name erect,
And ask his Aid their Kingdoms to protect.
No wonder then the Briton do's pretend
Such Zeal for Heav'n, while Heav'n is such a Friend.
But let it now withdraw its aiding Hand,
And like impartial Judges neutral stand:
Or let some unexpected Suff'ring prove
His fam'd Integrity, and stedfast Love,
And thou shalt find he'll curse thee to thy Face,
And shew himself of Man's apostate Race.

Then did th'Allmighty thus reply, to prove
King Arthur's Patience, Fortitude and Love

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To shew how much the mighty Man can bear,
And how unjust these Accusations are,
For twice seven Days thou mayst his Vertue try,
Use all thy Arts to prove his Constancy.
For that determin'd Space he's in thy Power,
His sacred Person only I secure.

The Prince of Darkness felt an inward Joy
From Heav'n's Permission Arthur to annoy.
Down thro' th'aeirial Void he swiftly flew
His deep Revenge and Malice to pursue:
In mighty Wrath, knowing the time but short,
He came, to make his terrible Effort.
So when in ancient Rome a furious Beast
With Hunger pinch'd was from his Den releast
A constant Christian Martyr to devour
Condemn'd by some Imperial Monster's Power,
He roar'd and ran with open Jaws to tear
His Prey and pleas'd the bloody Theater.
Th'infernal Prince from Heav'n's Cerulean Top
Shot thro' the liquid Gulph, nor did he stop
Till he had reach'd the thick inferiour Air,
And saw beneath King Arthur's Ships appear.
In th'Atmosphear with level Wings he hung,
And calld with such a thund'ring Voice, as rung
Thro' all the Skys, and with its dreadful Sound
Shook all the Rocks, and Shores, and Hills around.
His dusky Ministers who Storms prepare
And temper flaming Meteors in the Air,

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Who dress the Magazins of Hail and Rain,
And whip wild Whirl winds round to vex the Main,
The Engineers that in the troubled Skys
Recruit exhausted Clouds with fresh Supplys,
These their great Leader's Summons did obey
And to receive his Orders hast away.
To whom thus Lucifer, see yonder see
Amidst the Waves Hell's greatest Enemy.
Aerial Powers make hast at my Command,
And beat th'Invader from the Gallic Land.
On his tall Ships a suddain Tempest pour
Sink him, or beat him to Pomona's Shore.
Strait did the Fiends their Diligence employ
T'embroil the deep, and Arthur to destroy.
The Seeds of Tempests that imprison'd lay
In hollow Cliffs, and Caves remote from Day,
The lab'ring Demons did aloft convey.

Now gathering Clouds the Day begins to drown,
Their threat'ning Fronts thro' all th'Horizon frown.
Their swagg'ring Wombs low in the Air depend
Which struggling Flames, and imbred Thunder rend
The strongest Winds their Breath and Vigor prove.
And thro' the Heav'ns th'unweildy Tempest shove.
O'ercharg'd with Stores and Heav'ns Artillery
They groan and pant and labour up the Sky.
Impending Ruin do's the Sailor scare
Rolling and wallowing thro' th'encumber'd Air.
Loud Thunder, livid Flames, and Stygian Night
Compounded Horrors all the Deep affright,

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Rent Clouds a medly of Destruction spout,
And throw their dreadful Entrails round about.
Tempests of Fire and Cataracts of Rain
Unnatural Friendship make t'afflict the Main.
Prest by incumbent Storms the Billows rise,
Climb o'er the Rocks, and foam amidst the Skys.
Then falling lower than before they rose
The secret Horrors of the Deep disclose.
Pursu'd by conquering Winds they fly and roar
And crowd and headlong run against the Shore.
This Orb's wide Frame with this Convulsion shakes,
Oft opens in the Storm, and often cracks.
Horror, Amazement and Despair appear
In all the hideous Forms that Mortals fear.
Driv'n by the furious Winds the Ships were tost
On the rough Waves, near wild Pomona's Coast.
Here the Pightlandian Gulph's impetuous Tyde
Do's cold Jerne from the Isles divide;
A dreadful Sea, where adverse Currents meet
And beat their clashing Heads to Foam and Sleet.
The roaring Billows back and forward rowl,
And from the hollow Rocks Sea Monsters howl;
Monsters which from the North here rendezvous,
And on this Coast their hideous Dwelling chuse.
Th'amazing Noise and Uproar from afar
Alike the Shepherds and the Seamen feare.
Sailers that once should these dire Terrors hear,
Would Scylla mock, and by Charybdis steer
And only Pictland Gulph hereafter fear.

159

Here Remora's, if Fame belief may gain
Ships under Sail with wondrous force detain,
That thus becalm'd ev'n in a Storm remain.

Stronsa they past with such a furious Gale
As almost rent the Womb of every Sail.
They past the Land, where on the rocky Coast
Agricola his Roman Navy lost,
Misled by Pilots of Pomona's Isle,
Who gave their Lives to save their Native Soil.
'Cause Rome ne'er thought in Northern Climes to find
A People brave, and of a Roman Mind,
Who could for Publick Good their own deny,
And for their Country, like her Decij, dy.
While Winds and Waves and Tempests waging War,
Vex'd all the Sea and troubled all the Air;
Indulgent Heav'n did the kind Aid afford
Which with their Prayers the Britons had implor'd.
A glorious Spirit from the Fields above
Descending with the swiftness of the Dove,
Approach'd King Arthur with Celestial grace,
And with Ambrosial Odour fill'd the Place.
Around his head a gentle Glory shone,
And thus the beamy Minister begun:

The Powers of Hell their Angry Forces joyn
T'oppose your Arms, and thwart your high Design.
These did the Seas with this fierce Storm embroil,
To beat your Navy from Neustrasia's Soil.

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Your Arms, to try your Vertue, are delay'd,
So Heav'n permits, and Heav'n must be obey'd.
Know, by supream Command I now prepare
To chase the Demons that infest the Air,
Down to their Prisons, that the troubled Seas
May rest enjoy, and the fierce Tempest cease.
And when the Morn shall spread with dawning Day
Her Purple Loom, and shoot her early ray,
You'll Thule and th'Orcadian Isles descry
Which scatter'd o'er the Ocean's bosom ly.
Then steer directly to Pomona's Shore,
Where you will Terrors meet unknown before.
Fear not this Isle and Dangers yet untry'd,
Heav'n you invoke, and Heav'n will be your guide.
Know, that the Prince of Hell has leave obtain'd
To prove your Constancy, and now unchain'd,
Th'Apostate with excessive Rage prepares
His fiery Tryals, and his various Snares.
That he in this great Combate may prevail,
He'll bring the Pious Arthur to Assail
Prodigious Monsters all of dreadful Shape,
From whom few Heros e'er did yet escape.
When you to Combate these shall take the Field,
Assume your Heav'nly Sword and Heav'nly Shield.
Your Helm unpierc'd shall fiery Darts arrest,
And your Celestial Plate protect your breast.
In these your Arms divinely wrought appear,
And then no Monster, no Aggressor fear.
That with prodigious toil and sweat, for want
Of Food and Rest, you grow not weak and faint;

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This Balm which Heav'nly Gardens yeild, receive,
Th'Ambrosial Odour will fresh Vigor give,
Your drooping Spirits cheer, and wasted Strength revive.
But when your Arms Hell's Terrors have repell'd
And with immortal praise fierce Monsters quell'd:
Your Chiefest Danger still remains behind,
From a fair Foe, who Murders while she's kind.
A fatal Foe, Faseinia is her name,
Whose Triumphs Vanquish'd Kings and Chiefs proclaim.
You may not stay and Gaze, but straitway fly
The Sight of this perfidious Enemy.
No Mortal Courage can abide the Fight,
You Conquer when you're brave and bold in Flight.
All who contend fall by Faseinia's Charms,
'Tis Fear must here protect you, not your Arms.
Your diffidence the surest guard will yield
The Wise who run will only Win the Field.

He said, and strait the Seraph disappear'd
King Arthur with his Looks and Language cheer'd,
Waiting th'appearance of approaching Day
Resolv'd the Heav'nly Vision to obey.
Th'Aerial Demons from the Seraph fly
Born off on rapid Whirlwinds from the Sky.
The Winds no more insult the flying Waves,
But for repose retreat to Neighb'ring Caves.
The Sea subsides, and on its peaceful breast
Billows diffus'd dispose themselves to rest.

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Now did the beauteous Morn serenely rise
And open'd with her Smiles the Eastern Skys.
The perfect Day ensu'd, when midst the Seas
They had in view the clust'ring Orcades.
Direct to make Pomona's Isle they steer'd,
Which near and easy of access appear'd.
Soon did the Britons see a peaceful Bay
To guard their Ships her spacious Arms display.
Where weary Billows did securely sleep
Withdrawn to shun the Tumults of the Deep.
Within the winding Shores they safely past
Took in their Sails, and all their Anchors cast.
A Chosen Band of Britons went on Shore
Who might Refreshments and Sufficient Store
Of fresh Provisions for the Navy gain,
Worn with their mighty suff'rings on the Main.
Where many Nights and Days they had been lost
Before the Men descry'd Pomona's Coast.
Arthur in Person did the Men Command,
Who from their Vessels leap'd out on the Strand,
And boldly thence march'd up to view the Land.
When in the neighb'ring Mountains did appear.
Wild Swine and Goats and Herds of Fallow Deer.
Their fatal Arms did the wild Game pursue,
And soon abundant Store there Weapons slew.
Then laden with their Spoil they turn'd their feet
And came rejoycing to th'expecting Fleet.
In foaming Caldrons some fat Venson boil'd,
They Roasted some, and some on Coals they broil'd.

163

Spread on the Shore they did themselves refresh,
And prais'd the Swine and Deer's delicious Flesh.
When they had eat and drank with toil opprest
The Men dispos'd their weary Limbs to rest.

Soon as the tender Morn began to dawn,
King Arthur for Devotion was withdrawn.
While he his humble Prayers was offering up
To Heav'n upon a Neighb'ring Mountain's top,
The Prince of Darkness caught him up on high,
And bore th'undaunted Hero thro' the Sky,
But near a Mountain in a lonesom wast,
Swiftly alighting, he the Briton plac't.
A mighty Dragon came down from the Hill
Whose hideous Crys did all the Valley fill.
The monstrous Beast was of prodigious size,
Smoak from his Nostrils broke, Fire from his Eyes.
His odious Feet resembled Harpys Claws,
And the fierce Crocadile's his bloody Jaws.
Which when expanded did three murth'ring Rows
Of Teeth his native Armory disclose.
His Wings spread out o'ershadow'd all the Air,
Wide as the broadest Sails in Ships of War.
Hard scaly Armour to his Body grew
For Ornament and for Protection too.
Along he drew his mighty poisonous train
Like crooked Rivers sliding thro' a plain.
As on the ground the turgid Volumes rol'd,
They all their Speckled Terrors did unfold.

164

On did the vast, voracious Monster come
With dreadful noise, denouncing Arthur's Doom.
Sometimes like heavy Bustards rais'd with pain
He flew, and sometimes ran upon the Plain.
Sometimes employing Feet and Pinions too,
The Dragon both together ran and flew.
The Beast with horrid noise advancing near,
Th'undaunted Briton pois'd his massy Spear
Which strait projected with prodigious Might,
From his strong Arm took his auspicious Flight.
Dragon and Spear against each other hist,
Nor could the Beast this stress of Death resist.
For while he yawn'd and belch'd out dreadful Flames
Amidst the Air in long impetuous Streams,
Down his wide throat the Spear its passage made
And buried deep within his Stomach staid.
Down fell the wounded Beast with mighty sound,
Shook all the Plain, the Woods, and Hills around,
And beat his quivering Wings upon the ground.
A Sea of loathsome Gore resembling Blood,
Sprung from his Throat, and o'er the Region flow'd.

Then did the raging Prince of Darkness bear
Aloft the Conquering Briton thro' the Air.
But set him down amidst a shady Wood,
Which in a wild, amazing Desart stood.
Where only ancient Pines, and baleful Yew,
Unwholsome Box, and mournful Cypress grew.
The noxious Glebe did nothing else produce
But poisonous Flowers, and Herbs of Magic use.

165

Bald Toadstools, Henbane, Nightshade, Hemlock here,
Abundant choice of Mischief, did appear.
The Birds obscene which love the Shades of Night
Frightful to hear, and odious to the Sight,
Owls, Ravens, Bats, and all th'ill-boding Race
Increast the Horrors of the dismal place.
So black the Shade, so thick the stagnant Air,
That no reviving Sunbeams enter'd there.
Nothing but here and there a straggling Ray
Which lost it self in wandring from the Day.
Which serv'd not to Refresh, but to affright,
Not to Dispel, but to Disclose the Night.
Within the midst an antient Castle stood,
Encompass'd with a Mote of reeking Blood.
Wherein a dreadful Monster did reside,
Who all th'attempts of humane Force defy'd:
A Cruel Tyrant, of Infernal Shape,
Whom none, who Fear her fury, can escape.
Vipers, like those in Stygian Caverns found,
Swoln with black Gore, her meagre Temples crown'd.
Her ghastly Eyes were sunk within her head,
And Death-like Paleness did her Cheeks o'erspred.
Her long, lank Breasts she o'er her Shoulders slung,
Or to her Wast the loathsom Burden hung.
Her shapeless Form no Words have force to tell,
Black as the Night, and Horrible as Hell.
The Monsters which Sicilia's Seas defame
If this appear'd, would gentle seem and tame.
She brandish'd in her hand a poison'd Dart,
Which Strikes desponding Mortals to the Heart.

166

Fast in the festring wound the Weapon rests,
And tears with pain their miserable Breasts.
For death in vain the tortur'd Wretches cry,
Still do they Live, but still they Live to Dy.
None but the Brave conscious of Vertuous Deeds;
Whose Courage from their Innocence proceeds,
Are able to withstand her dreadful Power,
The rest the Monster do's with Ease devour.

No sooner in th'enchanted Wood appear'd
Britannia's Pious King, but straight he heard
The saddest Accents, deep despairing Sighs,
Bitter Complaints, and loud amazing Crys,
Promiscuous Howlings, lamentable Moans,
Outrageous Sorrow, and redoubled Groans.
Clashing of Whips, hissings of mighty Snakes,
Clancking of Chains, and noise of tort'ring Racks.
Yellings of raging Furys, and the cry
Of Men in dreadful Torments rend the Sky.
Then thro' the Air Flashes of Light'ning past,
And flaming Firebrands at his head were cast.
Dragons of Fire flew swiftly thro' the Air,
And ruddy Meteors shook their blazing Hair.
Then murd'ring Ruffians leap'd out from the Wood,
And grasping bloody Daggers threat'ning stood.
Hell-hounds of hideous Forms, and dreadful Claws
Ran roaring on him with their open Jaws.
Pale shiv'ring Ghosts past groaning by, a sight
Which humane Nature cannot but affright.

167

These various Horrors did he see and hear
Yet stood unmov'd, and ignorant of Fear.

The Prince of Darkness all enrag'd to see
The pious King's unshaken Constancy.
To see him midst such Terrors fearless stand,
Grasping his Heavenly Buckler in his Hand;
Wherewith the Hero did with Ease repel
The Rage of all th'united Powers of Hell;
Invited dire Anelpis to his Aid,
Of whom both Men and Angels are afraid.
Aloud th'Apostate call'd, and at his Cry
The Castle's Brazen Gates did open fly.
The Draw-bridge all with Plates of Iron wrought
Fell down, and lay across the Bloody Moat.
When from the Castle Gates a hideous Rout
With mighty Noise and Outcrys issued out.
The Marks and all the ghastly Shapes of Fear
In their distracted Faces did appear.
Consummate Horror all their Looks possest,
And Consternation not to be exprest.
They beat their Breast, and tortur'd with Despair
Tore from their Heads their stiff erected Hair.
Torrents of Tears they pour'd out from their Eyes,
And fill'd the ecchoing Wood with dismal Crys.
Then next the Hellish Fury came in Sight,
And call'd forth all her Terrors to affright.
She shook her Vipers, and aloud she roar'd
Than Death more cruel, and as Hell abhorr'd.

168

With horrid Port the meagre Monster strode,
Poising her poison'd Dart all stain'd with Blood.
Up to the King she march'd with furious Hast,
And at his Breast her dreadful Dart she cast.
Off from his temper'd Shield the Weapon glanc'd,
The King with God-like Courage strait advanc'd,
And brandishing his Fauchion in the Air
T'attack the gritly Fury did prepare.
Who straitway fled with all her odious Train,
And in a Moment did her Castle gain.
For she the timorous only can devour
But flys the brave who dare resist her Power.

With Spite and Rage th'Infernal Monarch swell'd
When he the Britons glorious Deed beheld.
Then thus he to himself. Still my Design
My Vengeance still this Briton do's decline,
He all my chosen Ministers defeats,
And even Anelpis from his Arms retreats.
Yet still I'll try, unwearied I'll pursue,
I will molest him if I can't subdue.
This mighty Favourite of Heav'n shall find
That I have Snares and Dangers yet behind,
Milder in show, but of more fatal Kind.
I'll change my Arms and Method of Attack,
Conquer by Wiles whom Danger cannot shake.

In the South Corner of Pomona's Isle
Blest with a temperate Air and fertile Soil.

169

On the sweet Margin of a Crystal Flood,
Within a flowry Vale a Palace stood,
Adorn'd with Turrets of Stupendious height,
With Walks and Gardens ravishing to Sight.
Here did Faseinia with her wanton train
In unmolested Peace and Pleasure reign.
Her Form was lovely, and amazing fair
Her Looks so sweet, so tender was her Air,
That such soft charms, such an alluring grace
Besides her own adorn'd no Mortal Face.
A thousand Graces, and a thousand Joys
Smil'd in her Cheeks and danc'd within her Eyes.
Where sate Victorious Love with Triumph crown'd,
His Conquering Arms and Trophys spread around.
From these bright Magazins to Vanquish Hearts
He drew his keenest flames, and all his surest Darts.
Great Heros who Immortal Fame pursu'd,
Citys reduc'd, and mighty Kings subdu'd,
Have at this Conqueror's Feet laid down their Arms,
Pleas'd to be vanquish'd by her gentle Charms.
The Lilly, Jesmine, Violet and Rose
Mingling their various Beautys did compose
The Flowry Garland which encompass'd round
Her softer Hair, and fairer Temples crown'd.
Her Amber Locks loose on her Shoulders lay,
Whither lascivious Zephyrs came to play.
With sporting Wings they rais'd them up, then all
Flew off, aud let their Golden Burden fall.
Her Silken Garments which with careless grace
Her beauteous Limbs and Body did embrace,

170

Did thro' the Air a rich Perfume diffuse,
Such as Arabia's balmy Woods produce.
And yet beneath the specious, fair disguise
Of tender Words, and soft enticing Eyes,
The treach'rous Sorceress within her Mind
Conceal'd the deepest Hate to Humane Kind.

She all the Herbs and potent Juices knew
Which on Pomona's Hills in Plenty grew;
These with infernal Art she could dispence
And Mixtures Form of wondrous Influence.
These Magic Draughts the fair Enchantress gave
To all whom first her Beauty did enslave.
Various the skillful Dispensations were,
Which she for various Uses did prepare.
As soon as some had drank th'infectious Bowl,
They Wolves became, and strait began to howl.
Some did the Form of wanton Goats acquire,
Some Swine became, and straitway sought the Mire.
Some with the Herds did thro' the Forrests pass,
And like Assyria's Monarch fed on Grass.
Some as from Humane Shape they did decline,
Up to the Wast were Goats, and after Swine.
Some half transform'd compos'd a monstrous Herd,
Where one half Man, and one half Beast appear'd.
Many Faseinia with amazing Art
Changing their Sex to VVomen did convert.
The Sorc'ress these anointed with an Oyl
Of wondrous Force brought from Campania's Soil:

171

Then by her Servants they were all convey'd
To a warm Bath with strong Decoctions made
Of Porna which without the Gard'ners Toil
A Native grew thro' all Pomona's Isle.
When she had bath'd them for a certain Space,
She then remov'd the Captives from the Place
And laid them softly on a downy Bed,
With Lillys, Poppys, and fresh Roses spread.
Then while she touch'd her Lute's enchanting String
And with a charming Voice began to sing,
Sweet Slumber strait their Eyelids gently prest,
And on their Bed they lay dissolv'd in Rest.
Mean time their Transformation did ensue,
Their vig'rous Bodys smooth and slender grew;
Their Limbs their Force did by degrees abate,
And by degrees turn'd fair and delicate.
Their Nerves grew slack, their Skin, as Lillys, white,
Soft to the Touch, and easy to the Sight.
From their fair Chins dropt off their Manly Beard,
And on their smiling Lips a lovely Red appear'd.
For mild and tender Looks, their changing Face,
Put off its bold, its stern and martial Grace.
Their Shape all o'er discover'd Female Charms,
And all the Distaff sought, instead of Arms.
These in Faseinia's Court did still remain,
And furnish'd out her soft lascivious Train.
Monarchs and warlike Chiefs who hither came
Drawn by her charming Beauty, and her Fame
In mighty Numbers did her Palace fill,
Their Sex first chang'd by her prodigious Skill.

172

Straitway the Prince of Hell on Wings display'd,
To this sweet Seat the British King convey'd.
And set him down amidst the balmy Bowers
With od'rous Herbs adorn'd, and fresh blown Flowers.
Wherein appear'd on Iv'ry Tables set
Rich garnish'd Dishes of delicious Meat.
Choice Fruits in great Profusion lay around,
And with their Golden Heaps the Tables crown'd.
Plenty of Wine was plac'd; no nobler Juice
Ausonia's Hills or fertile Greece produce.
Music exceeding that of tuneful Sphears
With soft harmonious Airs engag'd his Ears.
Hither Faseinia with her Train to eat
Now from her gilded Palace did retreat.
Her, Lucifer had form'd and taught with Care
How best the British Monarch to ensnare.
Telling that this would raise her Glory more
Than all the Triumphs she had won before.
Soon as she saw the Hero stand in Arms
She smil'd, and call'd forth all her conq'ring Charms.
Advancing near, the lovely Sorceress
Did these soft Words to Britain's King address.

Tho you great Monarch are a Stranger here
Your Fame is not, your Person's therefore dear.
Faint with your Toil with Victorys opprest,
Accept reviving Meats, and Wine and Rest.
Make hast, and your exhausted Strength recruit,
Conquest you've gain'd, and now enjoy the Fruit.

173

Without Refreshment, and a due Repair
Your mighty Limbs will fail, your Vigor wear.
Your martial Genius for a time unbend,
Some easy Hours in soft Enjoyment spend.
Dangers you've born now tast these peaceful Joys,
Divert your self with Pleasure's charming Voice.
In this Retirement while you please to stay,
All my Attendants shall your Will obey,
And I my self will own your soveraign Sway.
Here we'll advance the Name of Albion's King,
And in soft Peace your Wars and Triumphs sing.
Then you again shall Martial Fame pursue,
And in the warlike Field your mighty Deeds renew.

She ceas'd. And from her fair enchanting Eyes
Shot Showers of Conqu'ring Darts to gain the Prize
The British Monarch view'd her beauteous Face
Her tender Shape, soft Air, and every Grace.
Speechless the Hero and astonish'd stood,
And found an unknown Temper in his Blood.
A painful Pleasure seiz'd his beating Heart,
And in his Breast he felt and lov'd the Smart.
The wand'ring Flame creeps thro' his wounded Veins,
And all the Springs of Life the soft Contagion gains.
He ne'er before met such a potent Foe,
Nor did he e'er such Danger undergo.
At last the Briton sir'd with Love, reply'd,
Amidst such Charms who would not still abide?

174

Happy the Kings, happy the Conquerours are
Who after all their Warlike Toil can share
The Smiles of one who's so divinely Fair.
Then to the Bower she led him by the hand,
And strait to fill out Wine she gave Command.
She drank the Wine off, and of Conquest sure
Bid them a second Bowl for Arthur pour.
But when the Briton took the fatal drink
And stood upon the Precipice's brink,
At last he recollected in his Mind,
How strictly he had been from Heav'n Enjoyn'd
In fair Faseinia's Presence not to stay,
But from her fatal Arms to break away.
In hast the Monarch rose, resolv'd to fly
Th'Enchanted Place, the Lovely Enemy
Perceiving Arthur's great and brave intent
Fell on her Knees his Purpose to prevent.
She with her Arms his Martial Legs embrac'd,
And in the snowy Fetters hold him fast.
With Tears and Prayers and every moving Art,
She labour'd to confirm his wav'ring Heart.
The Pious Monarch undetermin'd stood,
And felt Alternate tydes Command his blood.
He would not Heav'n's high order disobey,
Nor had the Power or Will to break away.
Thus he a while maintain'd a doubtful Field,
And tho' he did not Conquer, did not yield.

Mean time great Gabriel watchful of his Care,
To give him Aid to break the fatal Snare,

175

Cloath'd in white Air appear'd, and with a Cry
Which shew'd the Monarch's Danger bid him fly.
If thou he said wilt Life and Honour save,
If thou wouldst prove above all others brave,
No longer with this fair Enchantress stay
Come on, and follow where I lead the Way.
The Briton rous'd with this divine Alarm
Felt now a nobler Flame his Bosom warm.
Upon the Ground the fatal Bowl he threw,
And from the fair Faseinia's Presence flew,
Who with her earnest Crys did long pursue.
The Gates flew open with obsequious Hast,
Thro' which the Seraph and King Arthur past.
Now in th'Aerial Realms had Light and Shade
Twice seven alternate Revolutions made;
When Lucifer's Commission was expir'd,
Who from the Briton all enrag'd retir'd.
Him his great Guardian Gabriel did convey
Down to the Coasts where then the Britons lay.

Gravellan, faithful Lucius, and the rest
For their great Leader's Absence sore distrest,
From Place to Place, with Care and anxious Thought
In vain their Prince thro' all Pomona sought,
They rang'd o'er Hill and Dale, and all around
The Woods and Caves did with their Crys resound.
At last o'erwhelm'd with Sorrow and Despair
They to the Coast from whence they came repair;
There to debate what Measures they should take,
If they should cease, or fresh Enquiry make.

176

Mean time the King amidst his Friends arriv'd,
Whose Presence their desponding Minds reviv'd.
With Wonder they beheld the Hero's Face,
And did with Tears of Joy his Feet embrace.
But when th'excessive Passion did abate,
The King at large did to his Friends relate,
What Dangers in his Absence him befel,
And how by Aids divine he did repel,
All the confed'rate Force and Frauds of Hell.

The mighty Triumphs by the Hero gain'd
His Patience, and the Labors he sustain'd
In various Combates, all his Friends amaz'd,
Who fixt with Admiration on him gaz'd.
With Joy transported all congratulate
His mighty Conquests and his prosp'rous Fate.
Some did to Heav'n his wondrous Patience raise,
Some did his Courage, some his Goodness praise.
And all the Soveraign of the World ador'd,
Who to the Britons had their Prince restor'd.
Whose powerful Hand assisted his Escape,
From Dangers of such Formidable Shape.
Then Meat and Wine they did prepare in hast,
Which now the Britons could with Pleasure tast.
Refresh'd with Food the pious King arose
And went his weary Members to repose.
But first declar'd that when the dawning Day,
From the cold Air should chase the Shades away,
He would embark to make Neustrasia's Coast,
To lead against the Franks the British Host.

177

BOOK VII.

These things befel the King since Gallia's Soil
He left to calm Brittannia's troubled Isle.
Mean time in Gallia when their Monarch found
Himself recover'd from his painful Wound,
He with his greatest Lords in Council sate
About the Means to save the Gallic State.
Then thus the haughty Prince his Chiefs bespoke,
Our Foes who would on Gaul impose their Yoke,
Are now expos'd to your avenging stroke.
Arthur's withdrawn Britannia to compose,
From whom his Army's Confidence arose.
His Courage, Conduct, Military Fame
Kindled within their Breasts a Martial Flame.
His Presence made them obstinate in Fight,
Eager of Conquest, and asham'd of Flight.
But since the Soul that mov'd their Troops is gone,
Leaving this Kingdom to secure his own,
Let us employ this favourable Hour
To free our Country from the British Power.
Let us advance our Ensigns valiant Franks
T'attack the Foe encamp'd on Esia's Banks.
We shall a weak desponding Host assail,
And of a glorious Conquest cannot fail.

178

He ceas'd, and all his Captains did reveal
To storm the British Camp a cheerful Zeal.
Forthwith their Monarch's orders to pursue
The Generals rose and to their Posts withdrew.

Soon as Aurora with her Rosy Light
Had streak'd the gloomy Bosom of the Night;
The Monarch rose and Eager of the War
For bloody Labour did himself prepare.
His Armour and his Arms his Servants brought
All temper'd Plate by famous Masters wrought.
His ample Shield was all of Burnish'd Gold,
Dreadful indeed, but Glorious to behold.
He lac'd his dazling Helm around his Head,
Which thro' the Air did keen Reflection spread.
His massy Sword he girded to his Wast,
And his strong Thighs in beaten Gold encas'd.
His Breast and Back in noble Armour shone
In Battle by excessive Splendor known.
Then in his hand two pondrous Spears he took,
And round him cast a Stern and Haughty Look.
On to the Field he led his Warlike Franks
And drew forth on the Plain th'embattled Ranks.
The Steeds with raging Hoofs the ground did tear,
And Chariots with their Thunder fill'd the Air.
The Troops advancing o'er the Hills did Choak
The Concave of the Sky with Dust and Smoke.
Thro' which their Armours glancing Lustre show'd,
Like radiant Sunbeams breaking thro' a Cloud.

179

The deep Brigades compos'd an endless Throng,
And with an awful Slowness march'd along.
Drawn out in Order they display'd from far
The sullen Pomp, and the rough Looks of War.
As when short Days and cold Autumnal Air
To some new Seat warn Swallows to repair,
The chatt'ring Race do's round their Leaders fly,
And at their Summons rendezvous on high,
And with their Numbers darken all the Sky.
So thick the Franks did on their March appear
So black and wide their Front, so long their Rear.

Mean time the Scouts and Outguards did alarm
The British Youth, and made the Captains arm.
Who did, as order'd, in their Camp remain,
Not to attack the Foe, but to sustain.
Wise Solmar plaid a wary Gen'ral's Part
Guarding the Camp by all the Rules of Art.
He in Battalia rang'd his valiant Host
And did his Squadrons, as a Master, post,
Where no Advantage of the Ground was lost.
No prudent Measures did the Chief neglect
Their Lines against th'Invader to protect.
The chearful Captains to their Charge repair,
Each takes his Post, and waits th'advancing War.
The British Youth in Arms the Franks attend
Bravely resolv'd each other to defend.
Solmar within the Army's Center stands,
As most convenient to dispence Commands.

180

The left Wing Talmar did as Gen'ral sway,
The right the valiant Clovis did obey.
Now at a distance did the marching Foes
Their numerous Army's Warlike Front disclose.
Bright Jav'lins, Sabres, brazen Backs, and Breasts,
Gauntlets, contiguous Helmets, burnish'd Crests,
Long glitt'ring Spears, broad Fauchions, temper'd Shie
Spread with illustrious Horror all the Fields.

In his bright Arms King Clotar did advance
Before his Troops, and shook his threat'ning Lance.
The haughty Warriour strait began the Fight
And furiously attack'd the Briton's Right.
With mighty Clamour and insulting Shouts
The Gallic Squadrons storm th'advanc'd Redoubts.
The noble Clovis all their Force sustains,
Unmov'd, undaunted he his Ground maintains.
Fearless of Death he on the Rampart stands
Dispensing to his Troops sedate Commands.
Projected Stones in Rocky Tempests fly,
And Showers of Arrows fill the troubled Sky.
Their brawny Arms destructive Javelins throw,
And glitt'ring Darts on deadly Errands go.
Some to oblige the Britons to retire
Hurl on them smoking Brands, and Storms of Fire.
The Briton stands the flaming Charge, and pours
Down in Exchange vast Stones in craggy Showers.
Which with the slaughter'd Heaps the Trenches sill,
And the bold Foe at once entomb and kill.

181

A leafless Wood of tall erected Spears,
O'erspreading all the spacious Field appears,
As thick and close, as the young tender Trees
Shoot up their Heads in thriving Nurserys.
Undaunted they the lofty Bulwarks scale,
And with their Sword in Hand the Foe assail.
But by the valiant Britons beaten back
With mighty Slaughter they forsook th'Attack.

Then with fresh Force the Britons to invade
Valiant Olcanor brought his bold Brigade.
All valiant Men inur'd to Arms and Blood,
Bred on the Banks of Liger's Silver Flood.
The mighty Chief mounts up, and on the Lines
Waving his Sword in noble Armour shines.
Rollo advanc'd to beat him from his Post,
And to regain the Ground their Men had lost:
But with his utmost Force his furious Foe
On his bright Crest dealt such a dreadful Blow,
That Rollo stagg'ring in a dizzy Swoon
Fell down upon his Knees, and prest the Ground:
He lean'd upon his Buckler with his Hand,
Yet scarcely so his swimming Head sustain'd.
Then brandishing his Fauchion in the Air
The fatal Stroke the Conq'rour did prepare:
When mighty Oloron the Neustrian Chief
All fir'd with Rage flew to his Friend's Relief.
He interpos'd his generous Arms, and took
Upon his ringing Shield the falling Stroke.

182

The Neustrian Lord ran in, and round his Wast
With his strong Arms he hugg'd and grip'd him fast:
Then from the Ground he rais'd the Warriour up,
And hurl'd him headlong from the Rampart's Top.
Off from the high rais'd Works the mighty Gaul
Fell down, and shook the Vally with his Fall.
So vast Enceladus, as Poets tell,
Gigantic Ruin, from the Mountains fell
By which he seal'd th'Imperial Seat of Jove,
Struck down by vengeful Thunder from above.

Brave Miran next warm with his Youthful Flame
Up to the Charge with his Battalion's came.
To mount the Lines he straitway gave Command,
But would himself be foremost of the Band.
Vebba observing brought a mighty Stone
And from the high Entrenchment roll'd it down,
It took the noble Warriour in his Way,
And both within the Trenches buried lay.
Rosan advanc'd, Romulian's learned Son,
Who midst the Bards had many Laurels won,
And now to martial Glory did aspire;
He climb'd the Works urg'd with a noble Fire:
With his right Hand he did his Fauchion weild,
And with his left he held his spacious Shield.
Up to the high Entrenchment's brow he rose,
Amidst the thickest Darts, and thickest Foes.
He with his Spear Radan and Tabal slew,
And down the Works Lanvallo headlong threw.

183

Coril the valiant Durotrigian Knight
Bravely advanc'd, and undertook the Fight.
The undaunted Frank stept forth to meet the Foe,
And aiming at his Breast a mortal Blow,
To give his Javelin Force stretcht every Vein,
Did all his Nerves, and brawny Muscles strain.
The Briton's Shield receiv'd th'impetuous Stroke
Which in the second Fold its Fury broke.
Then with a mighty Force the Briton cast
His massy Spear, which thro' the Buckler past,
And pierc'd the Frank between the Hip and Wast.
Down to the Ground he came, and endless Night
Swam o'er his Eyes, and choak'd their vital Light.
Then to the Charge renown'd Olando flew,
Which mounting up Capellan's Javelin slew.
With such a Vigor was the Weapon thrown,
It pierc'd his Buckler crash'd his Collar Bone,
And enter'd deep within the Warriour's Chest,
Who fell with all the Pangs of Death opprest,
And rolling down from the high Ramparts Brow
Increast the Dead, that lay in Heaps below.

Now ghastly Ruin and Destruction reign,
And scatter'd Spoils o'erspread the bloody Plain.
The Noise of raging Cohorts, horrid Crys,
And Groans of dying Men afflict the Skys.
O'er Shields and Helms down the steep Rampart flow'd
Torrents, and Crimson Cataracts of Blood
That fill'd the Trenches with a dismal Flood.

184

In vain the Franks their fierce Assault repeat,
Vanquish'd with mighty Loss they still retreat.
King Clotar's Soul was gaul'd, and all on fire
To see his Legions from th'Attack retire.
He slew along the Lines to take a View
Where he th'Assault might with Success renew.
That done he drew his Forces from the Right,
And on the Left began a second Fight.
Now did the King his fresh Battalions pour
Upon the Place he judg'd the least secure.
Great Oromel did at his Lords Command,
Lead on the Troops his Sabre in his Hand.
Thick Clouds of glitt'ring Darts and Spears they send
To break the Troops that did the Lines defend.
The Britons to repel th'invading Foe
Hurl mighty Stones, and Showers of Javelins throw.
Those bravely storm, and these as well defend,
And missive Arms in bloody Contest spend.
While they with mutual VVounds each other gall,
On this and that side mighty Numbers fall.
But Oromel shaking his trembling Lance
Commands his bold Battalions to advance.
He mounted up the VVorks, and with his Spear
His Passage thro' the thickest Ranks did clear.
Dispensing Death upon the Lines he stood
VVith Brains bespatter'd, and deform'd with Blood.
In vain the Britons did the Frank invade,
VVho all around him vast Destruction made.
Nor glitt'ring Darts, nor Stones, nor Smoke, nor Fire,
Could damp the Chief, and force him to retire.

185

His fatal Fauchion first Glendoran felt
Fam'd for his Arms, and rich embroider'd Belt.
The dreadful Weapon did his Arm divide,
And not yet cloy'd went deep into his Side.
He fell upon the Ground and endless Night
Lay on his Eyes to interrupt the Light.

Balandor next a noble Neustrian Lord
Felt in his bleeding Veins the Conquerour's Sword.
Down on the Neck it fell with horrid Sway,
And forc'd quite thro' the sever'd Joynt its Way.
Strait Crimson Jets sprang up from every Vein,
The gasping Head leap'd off, and bounded on the Plain.
Then Ridar, Araban, and many more,
Slain by the Frank lay weltring in their Gore.

Othar mean while his furious Javelin threw
Which aim'd at Milo on its Message flew.
It pass'd his Buckler, and the painful Point
Wounded his Knee, and enter'd far the Joynt.
Back to the Rear off from the fierce Attack,
Strong Sebul bore him on his brawny Back.
Then Asdran cast his Dart with wondrous Force,
The glitt'ring Death with an impetuous Course
Against young Trebor's Helmet flew direct,
Which now no longer could his Head protect:
The Dart his ample Forehead struck, and full
Between his thick-black Eyebrows pierc'd his Skull.
It reach'd the inmost Marrow of the Brain
Where we perceive our Pleasures, and our Pain.

186

There where the Soul upon her Throne abides,
And from our Sight conceal'd her Empire guides:
Do's various Orders various Tasks dispence,
To all th'inferiour Ministers of Sence.
Now suddain Death do's her high Seat invade,
And spreads the Courts of Life with horrid Shade.
A fatal Dart which strong Odallon cast,
Pierc'd Modar's Shield and thro' his Temples past:
Extended on the Ground the Hero lay,
His Eyeballs struggling with departing Day.
A massy Spear which Orbal's Arm convey'd,
Past half its Length thro' Kirton's Shoulder Blade,
And on the Dust th'expiring Captain laid.
A pondrous Stone crush'd Cadel's brawny Thigh,
Which made the Chief in raging Anguish ly;
But then a second struck him in the Breast,
And of its painful Prison Life releast.

When noble Talmar saw what Numbers fell,
By the Victorious Sword of Oromel;
And how his wavering Friends began to yield
Prest by the furious Frank, the bloody Field:
Up to the Charge he came resolv'd to chase
Th'Invader back, or dy upon the Place.
Against the Frank his massy Spear he hurl'd,
Which had dispatch'd him to th'infernal World,
Had it not glancing from his Buckler flew,
And by an erring Wound Somellan slew.
Then Oromel advancing to the Fight,
Threw his long Weapon with prodigious Might.

187

Th'impetuous Spear cut swiftly thro' the Sky,
And thro' his Buckler raz'd the Briton's Thigh.
A Purple Stream spun from the painful Wound,
And striving thro' his Armour stain'd the Ground.
Talmar enrag'd both with the Shame and Smart,
Cast at th'insulting Foe his second Dart.
A prosp'rous Flight the vengeful Weapon took,
The Buckler pierc'd, and thro' the Cuit ass broke:
Thro' the left Side it made its Way between
The Border of the Midriff and the Spleen.
The Warriour fainting with the fatal Wound,
Dropt his bright Arms, and fell upon the Ground.
Cold Death congeal'd his Blood within his Veins,
And clos'd his Eyes, with everlasting Chains.
Then did the Conq'rour with his Arms attack
The thickest Foes, and forc'd their Legions back.
Across the Lines he did his Troops pursue,
And as they fled prodigious Numbers slew.
The thin Remains forsook th'unequal Fight,
And sav'd themselves by ignominious Flight.
As when loud Western Winds arrive from far
Upon Batavia's Coast to levy War:
The roaring Sea draws down its threatning Troops,
To storm the Frontier, which its Progress stops.
The foaming Files, and all the watry Ranks
Rush on to Battle, and insult the Banks.
But they contend to force their Way in vain,
The Digues unshaken all their Force sustain.
The wearied Sea murmurs at these Defeats,
Draws off its broken Billows, and retreats.

188

Soon as King Clotar saw his Men retir'd,
With Rage, and Shame, and Indignation fir'd,
He drew up fresh Brigades against the Right,
Resolv'd to try his Fate again in Fight.
Advance your Ensigns to the Franks he cry'd,
And show your Valour oft in Battel try'd.
For Gallia's Glory often you have fought,
And from the Field triumphant Laurels brought.
Now to protect her Towns and Altars show
Your fearless Arms, and here invade the Foe.
Here let us force their Lines, and make our Way,
When well resolv'd no Works your Course can stay.
Then lifting high his Shield to guard his Head,
He up the Lines his furious Cohorts led.
With double Rage they did the Works invade,
And with loud Shouts a vig'rous Onset made.
By various Ways th'undaunted Briton strove
The Foe that press'd so boldly to remove.
Some Spears, some Darts, some iron Wedges threw,
Here flaming Firebrands, here bright Javelins flew
And here vast Stones the fierce Invader slew.
Here to oppress their Sight hot Embers fell,
Here Pots with horrid Stench annoy'd their Smell.
Great Numbers perish'd in the bold Attack,
Such stout Resistance did the Britons make.
Ormansel by a craggy Stone was slain,
Which from his broken Skull dash'd out his Brain.
Bortran a Chief brave and expert in Fight,
By a projected Firebrand lost his Sight.

189

An iron Wedge struck strong Raymundo dead,
Beating his Helmet deep into his Head.
Valiant Mansellan cast his furious Dart,
Which thro' stout Thedon's Shield transfixt his Heart.
Blood, Brains, and Limbs did the high Lines distain,
And all around lay squallid Heaps of slain.
The dreadful Roar did all the Region scare
Which issu'd from the brazen Throat of War.
Horrid Confusion, lamentable Moans,
Clashing of Arms and dying Warriours Groans,
Amazing Clamours, and th'insulting Threats
Of raging Captains vex'd th'Etherial Seats.
Long did the British Youth their Works maintain,
And bravely did the fierce Assault sustain.
Till worn with Toyl, and prest with numerous Troops,
Still fresh pour'd on, they left the Ramparts Tops.
King Clotar on the Works his Standard plac'd,
O'er which his throng'd Battalions raging pass'd.
They forc'd the Camp, and like a conq'ring Flood
Pass'd o'er the Banks, that long their Force withstood.
Clotar insulting at his Armys Head,
On to the Foe his eager Squadrons led.

Mean time brave Clovis midst the Britons flew,
And urg'd the Youth the Battle to renew.
With Shame and Fury mingled in his Eyes
To the desponding Troops aloud he crys.
What mean, my Friends, their Country to defame,
And sink the Glory of the British Name?

190

Will you forget your Conquests? will you throw
Your Wreaths and spreading Laurels from your Brow?
Shall we be vanquish'd by a vanquish'd Foe?
Can Arthur's Souldiers fear? were Arthur by
Would you forsake your Monarch? would you fly?
Unthoughtful Troops, say, Whither would you run,
You fly to Danger, and your Safety shun.
You cannot reach your Ships to pass the Main,
You must disperse, and be as Straglers Slain.
Come fly from Danger and the Fight renew,
You can't be safe unless you Conquer too.
He said, and strait urg'd with impetuous Rage
The Chief advanc'd th'Invaders to engage.
Upon the thickest Files the Warriour fell,
Resolv'd to dy, or Clotar to repel.
Alfonso who his progress first withstood
Fell wounded down, and welter'd in his Blood.
Within his Side he felt the fatal Dart
Between his Ribs an Inch beneath his Heart.
Another Spear was at great Boson thrown
Which pierc'd his Hip, and stuck within the Bone.
The Frank roar'd out, and tugging at the Spear
In grievous Anguish halted to the Rear.
Another Weapon did at Damon fly,
Which enter'd deep the Hollow of the Thigh;
Wriggling and wrything in tormenting Pain
He strove to draw the Weapon out in vain.
From his wide Wound a reeking River flow'd,
And all the Field around lay bath'd in blood.

191

Feeble and fainting with the Vast Expence,
The Warriour fell bereft of Life and Sense.
Hemar and Dival by his Arms were Slain,
And many more lay gasping on the Plain.
The British Troops who had before retir'd,
Return'd to Battle by this Chief inspir'd.

Mean time Wise Solmar did with anxious Care
Watch all the Turns and Chances of the War.
And when he saw the Franks had forc'd the Line,
And that the Britons did the Fight decline.
Inglorious Rout and Ruin to prevent
He fresh Recruits from the Main Battle sent,
Which might the British wavering Troops sustain,
Repel the Franks and still the Fight maintain.
Then to inspire his Men to keep their Post,
And strike a terror thro' the Gallic Host,
He noble Osor from the Camp detach'd,
And with the Chief a thousand Horse dispatch'd
And to their faithful Leader gave Command
To wheel about, and take the Hilly Land
Which on the Right hand of the Camp arose,
And then to March direct upon the Foes.
Then valiant Osor did without delay
Wheel from the Rear his orders to obey.
And in his March he took a Compass round,
That undiscern'd he might possess the Ground.

Now had brave Clovis with his fatal Blade
Amidst the Squadrons great Destruction made.

192

Boldly he stood to stem th'o'erflowing Tide,
Encompass'd round with Spoils on every Side.
The Franks enrag'd still fresh Battalions brought;
And prest with whole Brigades the Warriour fought.
He lopt strong Clomire's Arm off at a blow,
And cleft the bold Orbazel's Head in two.
Ellan who in his Strength repos'd his trust,
And Gramol in his Armour prest the Dust.
Nor did Roballon better Fortune meet,
Who lay expiring at the Conqueror's feet.
Then at fierce Maurel's head he aim'd his Stroke,
But on the temper'd Shield his Fauchion broke.
The Franks who stood at distance round about,
Ran in to seize him with a mighty shout.
The Pious Warriour was their Captive made,
And bound in Fetters to their Camp convey'd.
Brave Trelon to prevent great Clovis Fate
Brought up his Valiant Troops but came too late.

Clotar mean time did Erla's Troops invade,
And thro' the Files a mighty Havock made.
The British Chief did wondrous Courage show,
But strove in vain to stop th'unequal Foe.
Young Harrel felt the Conqu'rours Weapon first,
And groaning lay, and grov'ling in the Dust.
Torman advanc'd the Monarch to sustain
But at his feet fell Dead upon the Plain.
He next his massy Spear at Corbel cast,
Thro' all the Buckler's fold's the Weapon past,

193

And thro' his tender Entrails passage found,
The Cawl came forth, and hung down from the Wound.
Down on the ground he fell, and gasping lay,
While Death excluded from his Eyes the Day.
Next Pricel's Arm receiv'd the Javelin's point
Between the Elbow and the Shoulder Joynt:
The fatal Steel did the large Vein divide,
And from its Chanel sprang th'Arterial Tide.
Subsiding Life Ebb'd down apace, and left
The Youth of Motion and of Sense bereft.
Then at Hermander did his Jav'lin fly,
Which pierc'd his Buckler's Plate and Bullhide Ply
Then thro' his breast and breathing Lungs it went,
And sticking in his Back it's Fury spent.
Hermander Cough'd up from his Wheezing Chest
Fresh Frothy Blood, but strangled and Opprest
He fell upon the Ground and ratling lay,
Stretch'd out his Limbs, and groan'd his Life away.
Coman applauded for his Youthful Charms,
From all distinguish'd by his Painted Arms,
And his rich Scarlet Scarf, by luckless chance
Stood the next mark of Clotar's fatal Lance.
So the fair Lilly and the Poppy stand
A gaudy Harvest for the Mower's hand.
Strait at his Breast the Monarch's Weapon flew,
First pierc'd his Shield, and then his Body thro'.
Th'expiring Youth fetch'd deep repeated Throbs,
And of his hopes his mournful Father robs.
Then Eldred, Ribal, and Comander dy'd,
All these were Brothers by the Mother's Side.

194

All from the Mountains of Brechinia came
To win in Gallic Fields immortal Fame.
Vast numbers of the British Youth lay dead,
And with their scatter'd Spoils the Ground o'erspread.

When Solmar to relieve his Troops opprest
And the fierce Victor's Progress to arrest,
Brought the main Battle up to charge the Franks,
And bravely did attack their foremost Ranks.
Strait thro' the Camp a noble War ensu'd,
And martial Rage was in their Breasts renew'd.
Now Front to Front the Files each other prest,
And Foot to Foot they stood, and Breast to Breast.
All on the Ground their missive Weapons threw,
And with their Swords to close Engagement flew.
Fauchions with Fauchions clash'd, Shields rub'd on Shields,
And the loud Din of War rang thro' the Fields.
Now Franks prevail, and now the British Host,
And both their Arms alternate Conquest boast
While undetermin'd Victory did shew
Such Doubtfulness, as trembling Needles do,
When they between two courting Loadstones stay,
To neither yield, yet neither disobey.

At last with bloody Toyl the Britons worn,
And with unequal Numbers overborn
Began to shrink, while Clotar's ravening Sword
With undistinguish'd Rage around devour'd:
When on the neighb'ring Hill upon the Right
The Troops detach'd by Solmar march'd in Sight.

195

Great Osor who the foremost did appear
In Stature, Presence, Arms, and martial Air,
Of all the Heros of the British Host,
The God-like Arthur did resemble most.
Then Solmar cry'd aloud, see you your King,
Arthur's arriv'd, and do's sure Conquest bring.
Loud Shouts of Joy rang thro' the British Camp,
And struck thro' Clotar's Troops a shiv'ring Damp.
Those reassume the War with double Rage,
And these but faintly with the Foe engage.
Wavering a while they stood, but then gave way,
And left th'unfinish'd Triumph of the Day.
The Gallic Troops did by their Flight proclaim,
How much they fear'd Victorious Arthur's Name.
The conq'ring Britons did the Franks pursue,
Hung on their Rear, and mighty Numbers slew.
Only King Clotar still refus'd to yield,
But with his single Arms maintain'd the Field.
Solmar advanc'd to charge th'undaunted King,
And at his Head did his bright Javelin sting;
His blazing Shield the furious Weapon struck
Pass'd the first Fold, but in the second stuck.
Then did the Frank project his pondrous Spear
Which hiss'd along, and cut the liquid Air.
Thro' his right Leg in burnish'd Steel encas'd,
Across the brawny part the Weapon past.
The Veins that deep for sure Protection lay,
The fatal point divided in it's way.
Its Springs broke up, out gush'd the leaping Blood,
And in his reeking Life the fainting Warriour stood.

196

The British Youth ran in to bring Relief
And from the Field bore off the wounded Chief.
Albert the first who rush'd in to withstand
The furious Frank, fell by his fatal Hand.
Bodal and Eldan went undaunted on,
To save the General's Life, but lost their own.
But when the Monarch saw the Battel lost,
Himself alone left to engage an Host,
He grew enrag'd, but forc'd at last to yield
With bitter Execrations left the Field.
So much did Arthur's Name the Battel Sway,
And chang'd so soon the Fortune of the Day.
Their own great losses and the Evening Shade,
From long pursuit the British Youth disswade.
For Rest with Joy they to their Tents return,
But Clovis Chains and Solmar's Wound they mourn.
Solmar in pain had past the restless Night,
And when the Sun had spred the Hills with Light,
Exhausted with expence of Blood expir'd,
Lamented much, and much by all desir'd.

Brave Osor next in Power and Honour, sent
To call the British Captains to his Tent.
Soon hither all the great Commanders came,
All high in Office, and of Martial Fame.
Th'Assembly made a Sound like that of Waves
Roll'd on the Shore, or Winds in hollow Caves.
Or that which high Augusta's Merchants make,
When in their frequent Burse they Counsel take.

197

What Riches to their Neighbours they shall lend,
What British Growth to Foreign Climates send.
What Luxury to fetch, what wealthy Stores,
Or from the Asian, or the Afric Shores.
To which Pole next their numerous Fleets shall run,
If to the Rising, or the Setting Sun.

The throng'd Assembly straight in Council sate
Fit measures for their Safety to debate.
Osor arose, and with deliberate words
He thus bespoke th'Allys, and British Lords.

Twice has the Moon her changing Face renew'd
Since we our Monarch's Orders have pursu'd.
Expecting his return from Albion's Coast,
We with Defensive Arms have kept our Post.
And twice seven days are past since certain Fame
That Albion was compos'd first hither came.
That Arthur was embark'd to cross the Main
In Gallic Fields new Laurels to obtain.
But when in Prospect of the Neustrian Strand
A sudden Tempest beat him off from Land:
So those relate who on the Mountains stood,
And saw his ships advancing thro' the Flood.
Yet still his Ships are on the Ocean tost,
Or forc'd on some unhospitable Coast,
Else had the King return'd to Neustria's Shore
And we had seen our Monarch long before.
So long we had not labour'd in Suspence,
Nor wanted Arthur's Arms for our Defence.

198

Our heartless Troops impatient grown declare
They would return, and leave th'unfinish'd War.
Meantime our Leaders Absence makes the Foe
More insolent, and bold in Battle grow.
Captains advise, what Measure we shall take,
Shall we return and Gallia's Realm forsake,
Or shall we here entrench'd our Camp defend,
And still th'Arrival of our Prince attend.

He said, wise Gotrick rose, and to the rest
Thus with majestic Air himself exprest.
The Stratagem which did the Franks defeat
We can no more, illustrious Chiefs, repeat.
The Franks who Arthur's Presence then believ'd,
By busy Fame will soon be undeceiv'd.
Then well we know that no Britannic Lord
Is able to withstand King Clotar's Sword.
Should he again our high Entrenchments scale,
His numerous Squadrons may at last prevail.
Our two great Heros lest in chief Command,
Who could if any, Clotar's Rage withstand
These we, alas, have lost. Great Solmar's slain,
Brave Clovis do's in Clotar's Power remain.
Thrice happy Man if midst the fighting Bands
Thou hast expir'd and scap'd the Tyrant's Hands!
These were the Chiefs on whom we did depend
As Men whose Arms our Bulwarks would defend.
Our weary Troops who did demand before
Their native Land do now demand it more.

199

Prest by our hard Affairs we may presume
King Arthur's Leave to lead our Squadrons home.
The pious Prince our Conduct will approve,
Who to his People thus express our Love.

He said. VVhen mighty Talmar Silence broke
And thus the Lords and valiant Chiefs bespoke.
Here did our Pious Monarch bid us stay,
And his Command what Chief dares disobey?
VVe must persist our Bulwarks to defend,
And Arthur's coming in the Camp attend.
Shall we the Honour of our Isle deface,
And show our selves a weak, degenerate Race?
How will the Neighbour States our Arms despise,
And mock our ignominious Cowardize?
How will our Countrymen upbraid our Flight,
And ask what Monsters did our Youth affright?
Our Wives and Children swarming on the Strand
Will mock our Fears, and beat us off from Land.
How will th'observing VVorld our Conduct blame?
How will th'unhappy Christians curse our Name,
VVhom from their Chains we promis'd to release,
VVhen our Retreat their Suff'rings shall encrease?
For thus provok'd th'inexorable Foe
VVill add more VVeight, and multiply their VVoe
VVhat Plagues, what Desolation must o'erwhelm
Both the Neustrasian and the Gallic Realm,
If we no longer will our Arms engage,
But give them up a Prey to Clotar's Rage?

200

Let us prevent their Ruin, and our Shame,
Express our Pity, and advance our Fame.
Fixt and resolv'd let us our Bulwarks guard,
Success at last our Patience will reward.

He said. And Trelon thus himself exprest.
VVhat Madness Britons has your Minds possest?
VVill you betray your Monarch's righteous Cause,
Defame your Isle, and yet expect Applause?
Scar'd with phantastic Terrours will you run,
And leave a War with such Success begun?
Fear seems a Passion wise and eloquent,
But makes the Danger which it would prevent.
Let us the Passion own, and not disguise.
In Vertue's Shape inglorious Cowardise.
For running home what Reasons e'er you bring,
Wisdom's the grave Pretence, but Fear's the thing.
We still in Gallia may in Safety stay,
Defend our Bulwarks, and our Prince obey.
Vainly 'tis urg'd the Britons are dismay'd,
'Tis fearful Captains make their Men afraid.
Your Courage will confirm your wavering Troops,
Inspire new Vigor, and revive their Hopes.
Blame not the British Youth who still obey,
And boldly follow, when you lead the Way.
Then laying on his mighty Sword his Hand,
He cry'd, the Man that leads the foremost Band
From out the Camp shall by this Fauchion dy,
He ne'er shall scape, who first attempts to fly.

201

He said. And straitway Coril thus reply'd,
Meer Courage is to Madness near ally'd,
A Brutal Rage, which Prudence do's not guide.
Cool Sense and Judgment with a noble Fire
To make a finish'd Leader must conspire.
Some by a wise Retreat have more Renown
Than other Captains by a Conquest won.
'Tis blind Perverseness in our Camp to stay,
And not to go when Prudence leads the Way.
Wisdom is no Defect of Martial Heat
When Reason bids, 'tis Manly to retreat.
For our Return no Reasons need be us'd
Than those which Gotric has before produc'd.
I must declare for breaking up, to shun
The mighty Risk which staying here we run.
And if some Chiefs will this as Fear condemn,
We must object their Want of Sense to them.
We are not aw'd by Threats, and haughty Words,
Nor do we think we wear unequal Swords.

He ceas'd. And strait immoderate Heats arose,
While chol'rick Chiefs each other did oppose.
Some for retreating, some for Stay contend,
Some would forsake, and some their Camp defend.
When Maca saw the Strife still hotter grew,
Fearing the Dangers which might thence ensue,
He rose, and thus th'assembled Chiefs bespoke,
Britons; too much each other you provoke.

202

A calm Debate our Contests might decide,
But sharp Reproaches more your Minds divide.
Your Dangers by your Discords you augment,
And bring the Mischiefs which you would prevent.
'Tis prudent then this Contest to adjourn,
And when the dawning Morning shall return,
Our Heats compos'd with Rest, our Minds sedate,
In Council we'll revive this great Debate.
He said. And from the most receiv'd Applause,
Who cry'd adjourn, and strait the Council rose.

203

BOOK VIII.

The British Captains thus with Choler boyl'd,
And these Contentious Heats the Camp Embroil'd.
Clotar mean time who full of Rage and Shame,
Back to Lutetia for Protection came,
Thus to his Servants cry'd; let Clovis come,
I'll see the Rebel and pronounce his Doom.
Strait did the bloody Guards in Triumph bring,
The Pious Clovis to the Gallic King.
When Clotar first the Captive Lord espy'd
Insultingly he smil'd, and thus he cry'd.
Thou dost not only Gallia's Gods reject
Adhering to the Christians impious Sect,
But Trait'rous to thy King art not afraid
To call in Foreign Arms, and give them Aid,
Striving with blackest Malice to subdue
Thy Nat'ral Lord, and Native Country-too.
But now just Heav'n has giv'n thee to my hand
T'inflict that Vengeance, which thy Crimes demand.
Speak what Infernal Fury lash'd thee on,
What made thee hope thy Soveraign to dethrone?

204

He said. And Clovis fearless thus reply'd,
Tis true I still have Pagan Gods defy'd.
I ne'er would Incence on their Altars throw,
Nor in their Groves, nor in their Temples bow.
I ne'er have Worship to your Idols shewn
Stupid, as are the Rocks from whence they're hewn.
Gods Deify'd by Superstitious Fear,
Gods whom Creating Statuarys reer.
Who Pyrrhus and his Wife have far outdone,
Transforming into Gods the senseless Stone.
To th'unseen Mind I've still Obedience paid,
Who this, and those bright Worlds above us made.
This Independent Being I adore,
One God I rev'rence, but revere no more.
He in whose Power and Goodness I believe
Will from your Rage this Mortal Life retrieve
Or in Exchange will Life Eternal give.
I own, I did with humble prayer perswade
The Pious Briton Gallia to invade,
His Arms in our Deliv'rance to employ
To save a Realm you labour to destroy.
How have you triumph'd and Insulting stood
With Garments rowl'd in Slaughter'd Christians blood?
Haughty Proscriptions, Murders, Banishment
And all the Plagues that Tyrants can Invent,
At your Command the Christians have destroy'd,
Yet your Insatiate Rage was never cloy'd.
Tormentors with their cruel labour tir'd
To gain their own, the Suff'rers rest desir'd.

205

Your frighted People from their Towns are fled;
And Prisons only are inhabited.
All Europe ecchoes with Lutetia's Groans,
And every Land receives her straggling Sons.
We justly arm'd to set our Country free
From unexampl'd Rage, and barb'rous Cruelty.
Subjects should Kings revere and raise their Fame,
But cruel Monsters lose that sacred Name.
A Father do's not arm'd with lawless Power,
Instead of feeding them, his Sons devour.
Wolves should they Crooks usurp, no Shepherds are,
Nor Spoilers Princes, tho' they Scepters bear.
Wild Violence, and Power outrageous grown
Proclaim the Tyrant, and the King dethrone.
Scepter'd Destroyers do themselves depose,
And all their Right to our Obedience lose.
This is your Case, this sinking Gallia's Fate,
We, mov'd by Pity to her Suff'ring State
Call'd in the Generous Briton with Intent
Her universal Ruin to prevent.
This I have done, and Glory in the Deed,
And tho' I fall may Arthur's Arms succeed.
Stedfast in Christian Faith I've always stood,
And ready am to seal it with my Blood.
I will not Life from Clotar e'er demand
Nor ask Deliv'rance from his cruel Hand.
For my expected Suff'rings I prepare,
You've Power indeed, but want a Heart to spare.

206

More had he said, but Clotar furious grew,
And flashing Fire from his fierce Eyeballs flew.
The Captive's Words like Spears the Monarch gor'd,
And stung with Guilt and Rage aloud he roar'd:
What Pity 'tis that Man but once can dy,
That Life when urg'd begins so soon to fly?
But oh, may thine prove tough and obstinate,
Mighty to bear repeated Strokes of Fate.
May'st thou be hard, resolv'd and bold in Pain,
Able my choicest Torments to sustain.
May baffled Tortures scarcely wast thy Breath,
And mayst thou late escape my Hand by Death.
May all thy Nerves be firm, thy Muscles strong,
Thy Heartstrings sound to bear thy Suff'rings long.
Oh, may Gigantic Force and Vigor show
That thou uncommon Racks canst undergo.
Strive not by Death basely thy self to save,
Be constant on the Wheel, and prove in Torment brave.
For thou canst only make this Recompence,
A flight one too compar'd with thy Offence.
Away the noble Captive was convey'd,
And bound with iron Links in Prison laid,
To be expos'd soon as the Morning came
To cruel Torments, and to publick Shame.
Unmov'd, unchang'd great Clovis did sustain
His heavy Doom and ignominious Chain.
As calm as Peace, as heav'nly Seraphs mild
He view'd the Racks, and on his Torments smil'd.

207

With easy Arms his Fetters he embrac'd,
And thought himself with Marks of Honour grac'd.
He thought it noble Matter of Applause,
To dy for Gallia's, and the Christian Cause.
What Honour is it, did the Hero cry,
To dy for him that did for Sinners dy?
To rescue Mortals from the Gulph of Hell,
And raise them up to Heav'n from whence they fell
All our laborious Services are slight,
And all our heavy Sufferings wondrous light
When in a just and equal Ballance thrown
Against th'excessive Bliss, and massy Crown
Of pondrous Glory, which attends at last
The constant Martyr's Zeal and Labour past.
The Way to Canaan by those Martyrs trod
Lys thro' a red amazing Sea of Blood.
Martyrs, Elijah-like, to Heav'n aspire
On ruddy Steeds, and rapid Cars of Fire.
Here on a bleak tempestuous Shore I stand,
Cast on a wild, unhospitable Land,
Which for Disorder do's on Chaos joyn,
And for its Guilt do's close on Hell confine;
A wastful, howling, horrid Wilderness,
Which Beasts of Prey in humane Shape possess:
So monstrous dark that Heav'n's recoiling Light
Bounds from the Surface of the solid Night.
On the other side appears a glorious Shore
Enrich'd with glitt'ring Gemms and golden Oar.

208

The Land is all a native Theater,
Where flowry Plains, and spicy Groves appear.
A Paradise blest with reviving Beams
Immortal Fruit, and sweet, Celestial Streams.
Where Love and Peace and Friendship free from stain,
Pure Light, and Truth, and Joy unmixt with Pain,
Oh happy Regions! do for ever reign.
To gain this Blissful Land, this Golden Coast,
Death's interposing Channel must be crost.
'Tis true the gloomy Flood afflicts the Sight,
And self preserving Nature dos affright.
The Stygian Tide a dismal Horror spreads,
And dusky Billows rear their threat'ning Heads.
Nature upon the Brink dos shiv'ring stand,
And dreads the Paslage to the Blissful Land.
She willing still terrestrial Joys to keep,
Starts at the awful Prospect of the Deep.
She spins out time, and lingers in Debate,
And dos a thousand Ways Expostulate,
Displeas'd to try a new, and Unknown State.
By Various shifts she labours to Evade
The frightful Gulph, and Solitary Shade.
But Nature is Controul'd by Reason's sway,
Reason's her Guide, Reason must lead the Way.
I'll plunge amidst the Flood, and fearless stride
To gain the happy Shore across the tyde,
Or with bold Arms th'opposing Waves divide.
What if I sink, the shore I cannot miss,
We dive by Death, but to Emerge in Bliss.

209

The chiefest Terrors which in Death we dread,
Are in our own Imagination bred.
We are not pleas'd a glorious World to know,
Whereof our Senses no Impression show.
Reluctant Sense declines the untrodden Path,
Tho aided both by Reason and by Faith.
Empty phantastic Horrors hence arise
Which fright the vulgar, not the brave and wise.
Th'advancing Shades of Death weak Nature scare,
As hideous Forms and Monsters drawn in Air:
Which issuing forth from the dark Womb of Night
Impregnated with Fear, weak Minds affright.
If tender Infants who imprison'd stay
Within the Womb, prepar'd to break away,
Were conscious of themselves, and of their State,
And had but Reason to sustain Debate,
The painful Passage they would dread, and show
Reluctance to a World they do not know.
They in their Prisons still would chuse to ly
As backward to be born, as we to dy.
This is the Christian's Case detain'd on Earth,
Whose Death is nothing, but his Heav'nly Birth.
Yet still he fears the dark and unknown Way,
Still backwards shrinks, still meditates Delay,
And fresh Excuses finds for longer Stay.
The pious Peer in such divine Debate
Prepar'd himself for his approaching Fate.
His Wife mean time fair Merula, a Dame
Of wondrous Beauty, who when Clovis came

210

To Albion's Isle, in Gaul was left behind;
Now to the Prison came her Lord to find.
Fir'd with her Heav'nly Charms great Clovis burn'd,
And she to his an equal Flame return'd.
None to each other did more constant prove,
None more admir'd, and fam'd for mutual Love.
Long she unmov'd had born her heavy Chains,
Long underwent the most afflicting Pains,
But tir'd at last, her Torments to evade
Her Saviour she renounc'd, her Faith betray'd.
The Pagan Altars once so much abhor'd,
And Gods of various Kinds she now ador'd.
Yet did she constant to her Clovis prove,
Apostate from her Faith, but not her Love.
Her Lord thus sentenc'd, she to Clotar went
Brave Clovis Death and Suff'rings to prevent.
And knowing nothing could his Life procure
Unless the Christian Faith he did abjure,
She thought as once revolted Eve had done,
Her Lord by her Perswasion might be won
To break th'Allmighty's sacred Law, and eat
When offer'd by her Hand, forbidden Meat.
And oh! how oft do Female Charms prevail
Ev'n when the brave and wisest they assail?
She therefore undertook by Clotar's Leave
To try the pious Clovis to deceive;
To form his Mind the Christian's God to quit,
And to the Pagan Idols to submit.
Her Son and Daughter both of tender Age
The Mother brought, hoping they might engage

211

The Hero's Pity and Paternal Love,
And from his Breast his settled Purpose move.
Thus Clovis she bespoke.
Press'd by resistless Love I hither come
To rescue Clovis, and avert his Doom.
Too great a Zeal, and Labour can't be shown
To save a Life far dearer than my own.
'Tis in your Power your Suff'rings to evade,
Oh, that it were in mine too, to perswade
My Clovis that Deliv'rance to receive,
Which here with Joy I bring by Clotar's Leave.
Here Clovis interrupting her reply'd,
Oh Merula have you your God deny'd,
Have you renounc'd the Christians solemn Vow,
And learnt before the Pagan Shrines to bow,
And are you in your Guilt so stupid grown,
So like the Gods you worship, Wood and Stone,
That to my Presence you thus boldly press
No inward Gripes and no Remorse express?
Should not your Crime in Crimson Blushes glow?
Should not your Eyes Shame and Confusion show?
Amazing Power of Guilt! one great Offence
Benumbs the Mind, and stupifys the Sense,
Binds fast reluctant Conscience with its Charms,
And of its Sting the Worm within disarms.
But, Merula, your Message tell, prepare
Your Golden Bait, and spread th'alluring Snare.

212

No Question you your Guilt would propagate,
And make me quit my Faith to shun my Fate.
Speak, is not this your cruel, kind Intent
To change my Faith my Torments to prevent?
Then, beauteous Merula reply'd, 'tis true
The Means to save my Clovis I pursue.
No Joy but you, no Life but yours I own,
I must survive my self, when you are gone.
How strong, how pure, how bright a Flame of Love
To Clovis always in my Bosom strove?
You're conscious of my Passion, you must know
That from your Presence all my Pleasures flow.
If you withdraw your Light, how black a Shade
Must the sad Region of my Breast invade?
This World's a Heav'n to me when you are here,
And Heav'n will more be Heav'n to meet you there.
What I could ever Joy or Pleasure call
'Twas you I tasted, you enjoy'd in all.
The Spring from whence your Stream of Life proceeds
My Veins with vital Warmth and Vigor feeds.
My Life's dependent and precarious Fire
Must quickly cease, should you its Source retire,
As Evening Rays forsaken soon expire.
Deserted and defrauded of Supply
Streams flow no longer, when the Fountain's dry.
Should I behind my Clovis here remain,
I should of Life's uneasy Load complain,
And drown'd in Tears drag on th'encumbring Chain.
How sad, and hard a Task it is to live
When I must all that Life endears, survive?

213

No wonder then I strive a Life to save,
Where I such vast Concern and Int'rest have.
I can your Freedom and your Ease procure,
Nor need you e'er the Christian Faith abjure.
You need but only to their Altars go,
And on the Flames a little Incense throw.
Th'Almighty dos you know the Heart require,
And you may that preserve for him entire.
When you to Images respect shall show,
Your Mind you need not with your Body bow.
In every place th'Eternal dos abide,
And therefore must in Statues too reside.
When therefore you shall Adoration pay,
Your Mind may thro' the Image make its way,
And Worship to the God within convey.
We do not Worship to a Stone demand,
To Gods created by the Carver's hand.
The God we Honour has his Throne above,
To whom the Image dos our Rev'rence move.
Presents we prize, and Pictures we commend,
Because they mind us of our absent Friend.
By Nature we to Nature's Lord arise,
Who dwells in Bliss conceal'd from mortal Eyes.
We view his Image stamp'd on Nature's Face,
And by the Creatures to their Maker pass.
This beauteous VVorld, and all the rest above,
Were made to raise our Wonder and our Love.
The noblest Use that we in Creatures find
Is to the first great Cause, t'advance the Mind.

214

The Sun himself whose bright revealing Ray
To it's more glorious Author shews the way,
Serves Mortals more by this, than when it's Light
From these dark Seats removes the Shades of Night.
We can't Divine, Essential Glory see,
Nor view th'Almighty's naked Majesty.
We can't th'unequal Object comprehend;
The Creatures must their help to Reason lend,
While step by step it dos to Heav'n ascend.
Wide Nature's Frame and all her steddy Laws
Lead thinking Man to th'Independent Cause.
And then the Creatures have their noblest Use,
When thoughts Divine they in our Minds produce.
Now in the Sacred Images we rear,
This pious Use more plainly do's appear.
These in our Breasts do warm Devotion raise,
And mind us to advance th'Eternal's praise.
They move our Minds his Greatness to adore,
To love his Goodness, and revere his Power.
They to his Duty stupid Man excite,
And when he aims at Heav'n assist his Flight.
And those who know the high and steepy way,
The painful steps that reach Celestial Day,
Will not of friendly Succors be afraid,
But thankfully receive the proffer'd Aid.
Our Senses to the Mind while lodg'd in Clay,
Do all their various Images convey.
Things that we tast, and feel, and see, afford
The Seeds of Thought with which our Minds are stor'd.

215

We therefore must the Deity conceive
By such an Image as our Senses give.
Spirits to us this only way are known,
And such Conceptions we must form or none.
Why then should Statues be condemn'd, design'd
To raise Devotion in a Pious Mind,
When if we think of God, within our Thought
Some Image of his Being must be wrought?
The Sacred Volumes oft th'Almighty name
As having Parts and Limbs and Humane Frame.
Th'Eternal to our Minds by Words and Ways
Adapted to our Sense himself conveys,
Whose Being still must be from Man conceal'd,
If not by means that fit our State reveal'd.
These Arguments my yielding Reason sway'd,
When Worship first to Images I paid.
And these with Clovis too would soon succeed,
Were first your Mind from Prepossession freed.
Oh, let no groundless Prejudice oppose
The Light, that from so pure a Fountain flows.
May these kind Beams dispel the Clouds, and find
An unobstructed Passage to your Mind.
Thus you'll preserve your Life with guiltless Art,
And still remain a Christian in your Heart.
She ceas'd, and Pious Clovis thus reply'd:
In vain these artful Snares have oft been try'd.
These are the Nets your crafty Priests prepare,
The timorous and th'uncautious to ensnare.

216

Such Arguments no Conquests could procure,
If unassisted by the Tyrant's Power.
If e'er these Feeble Arms Impression make,
They from the Sword their Edge and Sharpness take.
Affrighted Nature's willing to receive
The dreadful Reason's Death and Torment give.
She'll by a thousand shifts her Post maintain,
And feels no Argument like that of Pain.
The clearest Light and Reason will displease,
Which thwart our Int'rest and disturb our Ease.
A lawless Rout of Passions still engage
In Nature's Cause with hideous Noise and Rage.
Reason is in the Tumult quite supprest,
And still the safest side we think the best.
But let Tyrannie Power stand Neutral by,
You'll soon the weakness of your Cause descry.
You that would still th'Almighty Being own,
And yet to Idols bow and Gods unknown,
Delude your selves with an absurd pretence,
That still your Minds preserve their Innocence.
We to th'Eternal Mind should Honour pay,
As he himself prescribes the Rule and Way.
No Modes of Adoration he'll admit,
Because our wanton Fancy thinks 'em sit.
No other Forms of Worship should be sought,
But those alone observ'd which he has taught.
He oft declares you shall no Image make,
Aud asks from whence you'll his Resemblance take.

217

This is his Will, this his commanding Word,
Shall Man contend and call his Law absurd?
Subjects are to obey, and not dispute
A Will so pure, a Power so absolute.
In vain alas deluding Priests pretend,
That they their Worship to th'Allmighty send.
That all the Honour to the Image paid
Is thro' the Marble up to Heav'n convey'd:
Then Dan's and Bethel's Calves would be excus'd,
Which by the Tribes were for Devotion us'd.
They mighty Zeal to Jacob's God exprest,
To honour him proclaim'd a solemn Feast,
And Worship by the Calves to Heav'n addrest.
When Aaron by the murm'ring Hebrews sway'd
A Golden God of molten Ear-rings made,
'Twas reer'd in Honour of th'Allmighty Hand,
That brought their Youth from Egypt's cruel Land.
Yet in the sacred History you read
How God incens'd condemn'd the impious Deed.
When you Devotion to an Idol show,
And on the Altar od'rous Incense throw,
You make the Heathen Worshiper believe
That you and he like Adoration give:
You thus confirm the Pagan Votary
And not asserting God, your God deny.
The Mind by Words and Actions is exprest,
And secret Reservations in the Breast
Whereby you think to save your Innocence
Make Hypocrites, and add a fresh Offence.

218

The jealous God will not his Honour part,
Nor share with Idols a divided Heart.
'Tis not enough to own him in your Breast,
He must in publick boldly be confest.
Th'eternal Mind no prudent Neutral knows,
We for his Cause declare, or are his Foes.
The Managers who cautious Measures use,
And fain would neither Sin nor Suff'ring chuse.
Who like a crafty Statesman to provide
For his own Safety fawns on either Side.
These most th'Eternal's Jealousy provoke,
At these his Vengeance aims the deadliest stroke.
The Hypocrite defeats his own Design,
Splits on the Rock he labours to decline.
He can't himself by base Complyance save
The Secret to be safe, is to be brave.
We are to fiery Tryals brought to prove
Our stedfast Faith, our Courage, and our Love.
To shew th'Heroic Confessors are fit
With Glory crown'd on Heav'nly Thrones to sit.
To draw amaz'd Spectators to believe
That Cause divine, that could such Courage give.
You know, if you in Heart a Christian are,
Our Heav'nly Founder often did declare
The Marks that must his faithful Friends approve
Are patient Suff'ring and their mutual Love.
His Precept, and Example form'd his Friends
For all the Sorrow that his Cause attends.
He oft foretold them their approaching Fate
And what they must expect from Tyrants Hate.

219

He set the price, and told what Heav'n would cost,
And what to gain that Kingdom must be lost.
And this the constant Martyrs understood
Who swam to Heav'n thro' a red tyde of Blood.
Some were with Wounds, and cruel Scourging try'd,
Some in the Flames with God-like Courage dy'd.
Some were on Racks and Wheels in pieces drawn,
Some ston'd to Death, and some asunder Sawn.
To some a Refuge from the Tyrant's Sword,
The Dens of milder Beasts did oft afford.
They oft Deliv'rance nobly did refuse,
And Vertue when 'twas least inviting chuse.
Conscious what Bliss and Life Eternal meant,
The blest Reward of hours divinely spent,
And what a Heaven 'tis, to be Innocent;
They could the World with brave Neglect despise,
And the vain Joys which charm deluded Eyes.
They with the just did rather Suff'rings bear,
Then guilty Pleasures with th'unrighteous share.
They laid down Life in Vertue's just Defence,
Dear Life, but not so dear as Innocence.
But Merula could these blest Saints have taught
Their Torments to escape without a Fault.
The specious Arguments which you advance
Will make them Martyrs to their Ignorance.
Had those blest Men your nice distinctions known,
They to the Idol might have Worship shown;
For if their inward Thought did not consent,
The Guilt no farther than the Body went;

220

And thus their Innocence had been secure,
And while the Knee had err'd, the Heart been pure.
Those who alledge we cannot form a Thought
But by some Image thro' our Senses brought;
And therefore we th'Almighty must conceive,
By some Idea which the Senses give,
Will soon th'erroneous Argument detect,
When on their own Conceptions they reflect.
Sense do's, 'tis true, it's Object first enjoy,
And that first Object do's our Thoughts employ.
All Knowledge previous to the acts of Sense
And in-born Notions, are a vain Pretence.
But then, 'tis true, that when our Minds embrace
Those Images which thro' our Senses pass,
They stop not there, but quickly higher go,
And on themselves reflecting Know they Know.
They their own Actions oft review, and thence
Conceptions form above the Sphear of Sense.
They by their Operations must conclude
They are with Life, and Thought, and Choice endu'd,
And hence the Intellectual World is known,
While we conceive their Nature by our own.
Then climbs the Mind to the first glorious Cause,
And his bright Image by this Model draws.
Freedom of Choice, pure Intellectual Light,
Power Independent, Goodness Infinite,
To form the great Idea we unite.
All other Images for him design'd
Debase the Glory of th'Eternal Mind;

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Degrade his high Perfections, and infuse
Unworthy Thoughts, and Vulgar Minds abuse.
He ceas'd. Fair Merula reply'd. Your Breast
Is, as I fear'd, too strongly Prepossest,
To be with new tho' truer Lights imprest.
When to Dispute a Woman takes the Field,
A Man believes he can't in Honour Yield.
I am not here a Match, the Righteous Cause
From my Defence great disadvantage draws.
But now if Clovis who's in Reason strong,
Wise in Debate, and Eloquent of Tongue,
Would change the Scene, and plead my Cause, how clear
How pure, he'd make my Innocence appear?
Such is your force in Reasoning, such your Art
That Error you to seeming Truth convert.
The strangest Paradox sustain'd by you
Ev'n to Sagacious Minds appears as true.
But why, alass, should Clovis thus Employ
Such noble Gifts their Owner to destroy?
If Reason can't let Love your Breast incline,
Oh, Pity your sad fate, or Pity mine.
What Words shall tell, what Accents shall relate,
If you are gone, my Lamentable State?
What will become of wretched Merula,
What shall I do, whither my Self convey?
What can my tedious Life afford to please,
What can asswage my Grief, or Sorrows Ease?
I must to unfrequented places creep,
And seek out secret Corners where to Weep.

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I must complain to Woods, and Winds, and Air,
Conscious, alass, in vain of my Despair.
Forsaken, helpless, ruin'd, sore distrest
With mighty Woe, and Life it self Opprest,
I must behind you stay, and make my Moan
To Gallic Tyrants, or to Lords unknown.
Oh, let the dear Engagements of our Love
Dissolve your Heart, and your Compassion move.
You warm Affection once to me exprest,
And thought me fair, pretended so at least.
What dear, engaging, tender things you said,
Which in my Breast the glowing Passion fed?
What Pleasure in my Presence did you show,
And how was I still pleas'd to see you so?
And do's my Presence now so much offend,
That you to part for ever, thus contend?
Or if your Love continue, can you go
And leave me in so sad a Scene of Woe?
But if from me you can so easie part,
Let these your tender Children melt your Heart.
Think how much Woe these Infants must attend,
Without a Father, and without a Friend.
See that dear Boy, how the sweet Creature stands?
How just like you, he moves his little Hands?
See your own Shape, your very Eyes, and Face,
He has your Air, your Step, and every Grace.
Then, Clovis, on his Sister cast your look,
In whom you once such wondrous pleasure took.
How oft you kist and Danc'd her on your Knee,
And said you lov'd the Child, because she look'd like me.

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These are next you, of all my Joys the chief,
But if you die will give me no Relief,
But minding me of you, revive my Grief.
When on them I shall look theyll but invite
New floods of Tears, and fresh Complaints excite.
Can't these endearing Pledges of our Love
Dissolve your Heart, and your Compassion move?
Can you these sweet Delights chuse to forsake,
And from the helpless Babes their Father take?
Think how their Lives they must in Sorrow spend,
Who will you leave your Orphans to defend?
You know your Foes will labour to Oppress
Your helpless Widow, and your Fatherless.
Can such a Father e'er Unnatural prove,
Cease to be tender, and forget to Love?
Can you lay by th'Indulgent Parent's care,
And leave these Babes abandon'd to despair?
At such Reflections do's not Nature start,
And try at every Spring to touch your Heart?
Do's not soft Pity's fire begin to burn,
Do not your yearning Bowels in you turn?
In such a case Breasts arm'd with temper'd Steel
And Hearts of Marble, should impression feel.
Then on her bended Knees she fell, and fast,
All drown'd in Tears, his Fetter'd Limbs embrac'd.
And thus she cry'd, here ever will I stay,
Here will I lie, here beg, and weep, and pray,
And strive in Sighs to breath my Life away;
Till Clovis shall our heavy Doom retrieve,
And say he do's at last consent to Live.

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Then the sad Mother to her Children said,
Come, Children, help your Father to perswade.
Your Accents full of Grief, and free from Art,
Will penetrate the most obdurate heart.
Your tender Cries will sure his Soul incline,
Your Prayer will more successful prove than mine.
The Children mov'd to see her so distrest,
Burst out in Tears, and the sad Scene increast.
They did about their Father cling, and cry
With mournful Voice, why Father will you dy?
This tender sight did Pious Clovis move;
And in his Breast his mighty Passion strove.
Paternal Pity pain'd his lab'ring Soul,
And made his Bowels in Convulsions roll.
Deep Groans he in his Agony did fetch,
And all his heart-strings felt the utmost stretch.
Striving his Passion to suppress he stood,
At last broke out in Tears and wept aloud.
Now Father's, Mothers, Childrens Cries unite,
And in each others Breasts fresh grief excite.
Confed'rate Sighs and Tears conspire to show
A perfect triumph of Victorious Woe.
Yet constant Clovis still maintain'd the Field,
And tho' o'erwhelm'd with force refus'd to yield.
So when a noble Oak that long has stood
High in the Air, the Beauty of the Wood
Is shock'd by stormy Winds, he either way
Bends to the Earth his Head with mighty Sway.
His lab'ring Roots disturb the neighb'ring Ground,
And makes a heaving Earthquake all around.

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Yet fast he stands, and the loud Storm defys,
His Roots still keep the Earth, his head the Skys.
So did great Clovis in the Tempest rock,
And firmly so withstood the Dreadful shock.
But when the Fury and the boyling Tyde
Of his Tumultuous Passion did subside,
Good Heav'ns he cry'd! this is too much to bear,
In such a Storm what Mortal Force can steer?
Nature Extended lys upon the Rack,
And all her shatter'd Frame begins to Crack
Th'impetuous Stress of Passion bears me down,
And the high tyde dos sinking Reason drown.
To bear this mighty weight Heav'n grant support,
All Tortures after this will be but Sport.
The Bitterness and Sting of Death is gone,
When this sad part is past, this Suff'ring done.
He paus'd, and then to Merula he cry'd,
You now your utmost Strength and Skill have try'd.
You've chang'd indeed th'Attack with Wondrous Art,
Quitting your Reason to engage my Heart.
You Wisely your Artillery apply'd
To the most tender, and defenceless side.
You did discreetly think the task not hard
To gain the illman'd Post, which Passions guard.
You thought to win me by your Artful Prayer,
Because I lov'd you and I thought you Fair.
'Tis true when you your Innocence maintain'd
By no Defection, no Rebellion stain'd,

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You shone Illustrious in your Heav'nly Sphear,
And lovely as a Seraph did appear.
But now your Crime your beauteous Eyes disarms
Losing your Piety, you lose your Charms.
O'er your bright Form a Night of Guilt is spread,
And hangs in Stygian Clouds around your head.
Like a fallen Angel Merula has lost
The charming Graces which her Form could boast;
Which now no longer can afford Delight,
But like the Sun Eclips'd dos all affright,
And with a dying Splendor pains our sight.
Think not that I could Ease and Life refuse,
And Ignominious Death and Torment chuse,
That I of Bosom Friends could farewel take,
And Children dearer then my Life forsake,
Did not th'Almighty this hard task Enjoyn,
And lend the mighty Aid of Grace Divine.
Down to the Yoke I struggling nature bend
Rather than his Supream Command offend.
I am not fond of Shame, nor do I take
Pleasure in Torment, for the Torment's sake.
I do not Court the Cross, nor Wrongs invite
Nor in Distress, and Ruin take delight.
I in Obedience, not in Pain rejoyce
And rather Suff'ring make, than Sin my Choice.
Nor may our transient Sorrow be compar'd
With that bright Crown, that shall our Love Reward,
With Heav'n's transporting, and unmeasur'd Bliss
And Life Eternal in Exchange for this,

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'Tis for the Prize we chuse the Painful Race,
And for the Crown that we the Cross embrace.
Here on a dark and dangerous Sea we steer
Tost on th'uncertain Waves of Hope and Fear.
Oft dash'd on Rocks, oft in wild Tempests lost,
Oft chas'd by Corsairs to an unknown Coast.
And shall th'affrighted Voyager recoil
When Heav'n in Pity to his Fears and Toil,
Shall kindly tow him to the happy Strand,
And on the Shores of Light the shatter'd Vessel Land?
Would Trav'llours fry'd with Lybia's burning Heat
Faint with their Labour, Hunger, Thirst and Sweat,
Complain if one in Pity would Convey
Them to their wish'd for home a shorter Way?
Men who from Heav'n derive their noble Birth
Cast on a Forreign Clime live here on Earth;
Where the wild Natives with loud Clamor chase
To Woods and Caves the mild and God-like Race.
They are insulted, vext, pursu'd and spoil'd,
Both for their own and Master's sake revil'd.
And should not these be willing to retreat
From such a rude, Inhospitable Seat?
Should Strangers us'd so ill, and so Opprest
Be courted to their Home and to their Rest?
Should such as these at their departure grieve,
And drag'd, like lingring Lot, this Sodom leave?
What dismal Seats the dying Saints forsake,
To what a Blissful Place their Flight they take?
There where th'Almighty's Beatific view
Will crown their Wishes and their Hopes out-do.

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Where Joys and Pleasures shall their Breasts extend,
Pleasures unmixt, and Joys that never end.

But now Revolted Merula reflect
On that vast Woe which Rebels must expect.
Who to appease a Man their God Incense
To scape Man's wrath provoke Omnipotence:
Who on Almighty Goodness can't rely,
But from their Saviour's bloody Banner fly,
And to preserve their Lives their Faith deny.
Their timorous flight no Safety can afford,
They fly to meet a more destructive Sword.
What if by Guilt they shun a Mortal Foe,
They run but on his Arms, whose surer blow
Can wound and sink them to the Shades below:
Where they Alternate Death must still repeat
In Piercing Cold, or unextinguish'd Heat;
Where mighty Vengeance they must ever bear
O'erwhelm'd with Wrath, and torn with wild Despair.
Besides when Men from fiery Tryals run,
They meet worse Torments here, than those they shun.
Dos not their Guilt their tremb'ling Souls affright,
And place th'Almighty's Terrors in their Sight?
Outrageous Conscience dos th'Apostate tear
With inward Whips, and Stings him with Despair.
Oh, Merula, say, did you never find
Such Horror, such Remorse within your Mind?
Did ne'er your Fears of Heav'n your Peace molest,
No gripes or inward Pangs torment your Breast.

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And was not that a far more painful Rack,
Than those which Tyrants skill'd in Torment, make?
Say, are you not with Consternation struck,
When on your Self deform'd with Guilt you look?
Do's not your secret, self-revenging thought
Afflict your Soul, and lash you for your fault?
An angry Judge your tender Saviour's made,
Of whom you were asham'd, now are you not afraid
Your thoughts of God must have Amazement bred,
You must his lifted Arm and Vengeance dread.
More had the Hero said, but that he saw
A suddain Storm of Grief in Merula.
Her troubled Looks strange discomposure show'd,
And floods of Tears down her fair Bosom flow'd.

A while she staid to give her Passion Vent,
And when her Anguish had its fury spent:
She cry'd, my heart do's with this Language melt
'Tis true, those Stings, those Torments I have felt,
Which you describe, too well alas, I know
What Horrors from a Guilty Conscience slow.
I dare no more assert my Innocence,
My Mind inlighten'd owns the black offence.
To Save my Life and Suff'rings to evade,
I have my God deny'd, my Faith betray'd.
'Tis true, when Idols I did first adore,
I ne'er design'd by that compliance more,
Then gaining time till I could my retreat
From Gallia make, to seek some peaceful Seat,
Where I might find you, and your Love enjoy,
And undisturb'd my future hours employ.

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But now I see by your assisting Light
I'm both Idolater, and Hypocrite.
How black and dismal do's my Crime appear?
How sharp the Stings of raging Conscience are?
Who can the Pangs and deadly Anguish bear?
O let my head a weeping Fountain grow,
And from my Eyes let mournful Rivers flow.
Let me dissolve to Tears, let every Vein
A stream of Water, not of Blood contain.
Thro' all the winding Channels to my Eyes
Let unexhausted Stores of Moisture rise.
Let no sufficient Treasures be deny'd
To feed the sad, but Everlasting Tide.
Let Love's strong Flame by its Celestial Art
To fill my Eyes, dissolve and melt my Heart;
As Central Fire advances watry Steams
Which from the Mountains spring in Crystal Streams.
Rivers and Seas I want for my Relief,
To Ease, and Vent unutterable Grief.
I, that my Tears may to a Deluge grow,
Will break my Stores up, my Abyss of Woe.
Descend my Tears, in Cataracts slow down,
Me, and my load of Guilt together drown.
Let mighty Torrents from my Eye-balls roll,
Fit to dilute th'Almighty's wrathful Bowl.
Lord, strike this Marble Heart, thy powerful Stroke
Will make a Flood gush from the cleaving Rock.
O draw all Nature's Sluces up, and drain
Her Magazines, which liquid Stores contain.

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My Guilt with hideous Crys do's me pursue,
O, let me make the Poets Fable true;
To shun the grisly, formidable Shape,
And from the Monster's Fury to escape,
Melting in Tears let me a River grow,
And in a swift, complaining Water flow.
What method is there, Clovis, to decline
The black, impending Storm of Wrath Divine?
What Balm can my tormenting Pain appease?
What can procure my wounded Spirit ease?
How to my troubled Breast shall I restore
That Heav'nly Peace which I enjoy'd before?
Oh, what can smooth th'Almighty's frowning Brow,
Arrest his lifted Hand, and make him drop the blow?

She ceas'd. And Clovis paus'd a little space,
While suddain Tears of Joy ran down his Face.
Then spoke the Confessor. Now you appear
Fair as before, and are to me as dear.
Now you regain your Form, and lovely Charms
And as before are welcom to my Arms.
Heav'n will embrace you too, now you return
And your late fall with pure Contrition mourn.
Heav'n's always ready to afford Relief
To pious Sorrow and ingenuous Grief.
When Penitents with self-displeasure burn,
And to themselves, and to their God return.
Th'Almighty mov'd with Pity will not stay,
But will advance to meet them on their way.

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Their errors he forgets, revokes their Doom
And leads his rescu'd Sons in Triumph home.
Your humble Sorrow gives even Angels Joy,
Who to protect you will their Care employ.
The way to make your Peace which you demand
Is plain, you must the fiery Trial stand.
You must your God before the World confess,
And publick Shame, for publick Crimes express.
We must without debate, without delay,
Boldly advance where Conscience leads the way.
Obedience only can our Peace secure:
No Mind is easie long, that is not pure.
You must Obey even at your Blood's expence,
You must to Life prefer your Innocence.
Regard the Joy that is before you set,
View but the Prize, and you will ne'er retreat.
You can't too dear Immortal Glory reap,
What e'er you give, the purchase still is cheap.
In Vertues Cause whate'er your Suff'rings are,
Heav'n is oblig'd your Losses to repair.
If you with publick Fortitude will own
Your Saviour's Cause, you win the promis'd Crown.
This Favourite Intercessor can alone
Fit Merit plead th'Almighty to atone.
Only his Blood can purge your guilty Stain,
Without this Aid, your Tears descend in vain.
Would you succeed in Christian Warfare, joyn
Sincere Obedience to Belief Divine.

233

He ceas'd. And thus did Merula reply,
Oh, let not Heav'n its promis'd Aid deny,
And I with Courage will the Cross embrace,
And stare the King of Terrors in the Face.
Both by your words and brave example fir'd,
And with fresh power deriv'd from Heav'n, inspir'd,
Back to the Field from whence I sled I'll come,
And with new Life the Christian War resume.
Faint from the painful Course I once withdrew,
But now return, invited back by you.
I will no more refuse the Christian Yoke,
Nor him forsake, who never his forsook.
From this vile World together we'll retire,
And in Heav'n's Cause together will expire.
With equal swiftness we a breast will fly,
And hand in hand ascend th'Empyreal Sky.
Here he embrac'd her in his Arms, and said,
Now all my Cares and anxious Thoughts are fled.
Kind Heav'n assist, that we may stedfast prove,
And then Reward the labour of our Love.
Then he with God-like Language did proceed
The sacred flame within her Breast to feed.
How nobly he describ'd the bright Reward,
Th'Eternal Joys for Conquering Saints prepar'd!
What high and great Idea's did he draw
Of future Bliss, then cry'd, oh Merula,
These glorious Triumphs will our Suff'rings Crown,
And these blest Joys will quickly be our own.

234

Thus they proceeded in Divine debate,
And Heav'nly Language fitted to their State,
Till Night was worn, and the declining Moon
Had now past over her Nocturnal Noon.
When Uriel brighter than the Morning Star,
And swift as Light'ning glancing thro' the Air,
Did to the Prison, from above, repair.
Beauty Divine, and Grace ineffable,
Did on his Cheeks and God-like Features dwell.
His Eyes, like Diamonds set in polish'd Gold,
Did a bright Heav'n of Light and Joy unfold.
Unfading Youth did pure, Ambrosial Red,
Mild Air, and blooming Honours on him spred.
His Golden Hair did on his Shoulders shine
Like Locks of Sun-beams curl'd with Art Divine.
From his bright Face broke such Illustrious Rays
As all blest Minds imbibe, who stedfast gaze
Upon the dazling Beatific Sight,
Ravish'd with Joy, and overwhelm'd with Light.
Immortal Life his Heav'nly Mould did move,
And thro' his radiant Limbs the Vital Glory strove.
Ent'ring the Room the Seraph Silence broke,
And thus the Pious Confessors bespoke:

Th'Almighty whose all-penetrating Eye
Do's search the Heart, and all its thoughts descry;
Who views the bent and purpose of your Mind,
Do's your Intention fixt and stedfast find,

235

To part with Life for your Religion's sake,
And do's the Will for full performance take.
Me therefore in Compassion he has sent
From his high Throne, your Suff'rings to prevent.
I to your Friends will safely you convey,
Then boldly follow where I lead the Way.

He said, and soon the Constant Clovis found
His Fetters loos'd, and fallen upon the ground.
One Child the Father, one the Mother took,
Who at the wondrous Stranger's Presence shook.
With Fear and Joy possest, without delay
They follow, and their Heav'nly Guide obey.
Th'advancing Seraph touch'd the Prison Door
With the bright Rod which in his hand he bore.
Th'obsequious Gate obey'd, and open slew,
Leaving them free their Safety to pursue.
Whom to the Camp the Angel did convey,
Where strong entrench'd the Valiant Britons lay.
That done, thro' all the spacious Fields of Air,
To his Celestial Seat he did repair.

237

BOOK IX.

These Things in Gallia past. The King the while
Prepar'd to Sail from Cold Pomona's Isle.
Lovely Aurora did serenely rise,
And with her Rosy Footsteps markt the Skys.
When with his Men, and Arms, and war-like store
Arthur embark'd to make Neustrasia's shore.
The howling Sailors all their Anchors weigh'd,
And the tall Ships their Spacious wings display'd.
They spoon'd away before the shoving Wind,
And left retreating Cliffs and Rocks behind.
They cut the Ocean, while Officious Gales
Swell'd the Capacious Bosoms of their Sails.
Thrice interchangably the Night and Day
Had from the Air each other chas'd away,
When now arriving on the Neustrian Strand
The pious Arthur safely came to Land.
Many glad Troops, soon as the welcome Fame
Of their great Monarch's safe Arrival came,
Sent by the Chiefs, Impatient of delay
Pour'd from his Camp to meet him on his way.
And when they saw the Hero from afar
Advancing like the Poets God of War,

238

High in the Air they their round Bonnets flung,
And all the Heav'ns with Acclamations rung.
The wild, Transported Youth did run, and shout,
Each other hug'd, and leap'd, and flew about.
His Chariot Wheels on which the Cohorts hung,
Midst loud applauses slowly roll'd along.
With so much Joy King Arthur was receiv'd,
And thus attended at the Camp arriv'd.
Where to his high Pavilion soon they bring,
Rich Wine, and Meats, Refreshments for their King.
His Supper ended, Arthur did relate
How he in Peace had left Britannia's State.
And what amazing Dangers him befel,
Caus'd by the Malice of the Prince of Hell,
Both on the Waves and in Pomona's Isle,
All which he vanquish'd with unwearied toil.
Then did he hear his Chiefs Narration make
How all things past, since he did first forsake
Lutetia's Fields Brittania to compose,
Leaving the Franks to quell Domestic Foes.
For Solmar's fall he did his Grief express,
And prais'd the pious Clovis stedfastness.
Then he declar'd to all his fixt intent
That when t'atone th'Almighty they had spent
Th'approaching Day in Fervent Praise, and Prayer,
To the proud Foe he would advance the War.
The rising Sun the Throne of Night invades,
Fenc'd with thick Darkness, and entrench'd in Shades;

239

His radiant Troops break thro' th'Horizon's Line,
And on the Heav'nly Plains triumphant shine.
And now appear'd the Sacred resting Day,
When Christians publick Adoration pay
To Heav'n, and fervid with Devotion raise
In rapt'rous Hymns their great Creator's Praise:
And then with awful Reverence and Fear,
From Sacred Priests Divine Instruction hear.
The Captains warm'd with their Religious flame
Soon to their Monarch's high Pavilion came,
T'address with humble Prayer th'Almighty's Throne,
And his unbounded Power, and Rule to own
They did his Justice and his Love assert,
And by Confessions labour'd to avert
His Judgments, and his Anger to Atone,
Caus'd by their Land's Offences, and their own.
They cast upon his Providential Care
The high Concerns of this Important War,
And with an humble Confidence rely'd
For Victory on his Almighty Aid:
Trusting that Heav'n would ever have regard
To the just Man, and would his Deeds reward.
When thus the Britons had their God ador'd,
His Goodness prais'd, and future Aid implor'd,
They sate prepar'd to hear his Heav'nly Word.
Then Caledon arose with solemn Air,
And to instruct them did himself prepare.
He Albion's Rights still labour'd to defend,
And pure Religion's Empire to extend.

240

The finest Clay and pure Etherial Fire
Dispens'd with double Bounty did conspire
To make a Man, that should the World surprise,
A Genius near of Kindred to the Skys.
A Genius so sublime, so rich, and vast,
As all but famous Tylon far surpast.
He did with zeal true piety promote,
For Publick Good he Preach'd, and Pray'd, and Wrote,
All the great Ends for which his Monarch fought.
Prodigious was the Compass of his Mind,
Wide as his Love, which took in Humane Kind.
He Albion's Good, not Fame or Riches fought,
Generous, and open-hearted to a fault.
An unexhausted Magazin his Brain
Did all the Treasures of the Schools contain.
He shew'd as oft as he Religion taught
Such Fulness, such Fecundity of Thought,
Such Luxury of Sense, such Strength and Art
As soon subdu'd the Hearer's yielding Heart.
How Wise, how Great, how Good must he appear
Who was to Arthur and to Tylon dear?
The famous Priest th'attentive Audience taught,
And from the Sacred Oracles he brought
What in their minds Conceptions Just and Right
Of the first Glorious Being might excite.
What might Create Dependance on his Power,
And by engaging Heav'n make Conquest sure.
And thus his Wise Instructions did Commence
With Zeal Divine, and rapid Eloquence.

241

The Pagan World ev'n in its darkest Night,
Receiv'd from glimm'ring Nature so much Light,
That by that Candle of the Lord they found
They were by Duty, and by Int'rest bound,
The World's high Moderator to atone,
And their Dependance on his Care to own.
With solemn Worship they invok'd his Aid
Before their War-like Ensigns they display'd.
To take the Field they from the Altar rose,
And from their Temples march'd to meet their Foes.
To render Heav'n Propitious to their Arms,
Christians are more oblig'd to use the Charms
Of pure Devotion, who more clearly know
What Blessings from Divine Assistance flow.
The Lord of Armys in the Battel stands,
And Vict'ry always watches his Commands.
Without his Favour and propitious Aid,
Armies in vain defend, in vain invade.
The Turns of Empire, and th'Events of War,
Result from his Supream, directing Care.
Those who the Self-existent Cause conceive,
And all his Glorious Attributes believe,
Who own his Greatness, and unbounded Power
To crush his Foes, and Vot'ries to secure;
His Justice, that with Threats the Bad deters,
And great Rewards on Upright Men confers,
His unchang'd Love and Truth that never errs:
His Faithfulness, that ne'er forsakes his own,
But stands as fix'd as his Eternal Throne,

242

That to his Servants still he Succour brings,
Gather'd beneath his kind protecting Wings.
Those Saints who such a Deity conceive,
With strong Devotion arm'd, will ever strive
With Heav'n, and first begin their Conquests there,
Before on Earth they undertake a War.
Success and Triumph, never to the side
That Heav'n engages on, can be deny'd.
Who has an Arm like God? who with his Word
And dreadful Voice, can Thunder like the Lord?
He walks array'd with Majesty and Light,
Hid by excess of Glory from our fight.
He casts his Terrors round on every side,
Observes the Great, and Laughs to see their Pride.
He frowns them to the Dust, their Power defeats,
And tramples down th'Ambitious from their Seats.
He gathers up the Ocean in his hand,
And binds the Billows in with Cords of Sand.
He broke th'Abyss up for the watry Stores,
And plac'd before the Waves his Rocky Doors.
He markt out for them their appointed Seat,
And said, Come hitherto, and then retreat.
He in a Ballance weighs the lofty Hills,
And stooping down with Ease takes up the Isles,
Which torn up from their Roots appear so light,
That when he poises them, they lose their weight.
By him the spacious Heav'ns are over-span'd,
And the Sea's lost when held within his hand.

243

How swift his flaming Darts of Light'ning fly,
Shot from the gaping Engines of the Sky?
His Voice of Thunder do's his Wrath proclaim,
And shakes affrighted Nature's rocking Frame.
Whene'er he bows the Heav'ns, and thence comes down,
He makes the Mountains tremble at his Frown.
The Rocks are rent where e'er his Terrors go,
Hills melted down like Wax before him flow.
He from their Seats with Ease the Mountains spurns,
And in his Wrath aspiring Hills o'erturns.
He makes the Earth warp from its ancient place,
And wrests its trembling Pillars from their Base.
By him rebuk'd, the Sun withdraws his Light,
And Stars lie hid, seal'd up with suddain Night.
He the wide Heav'ns transparent Curtain spreads,
And on the Sea's unstable Billows treads.
He gives Arcturus, and Orion Light,
And bids the Pleiades adorn the Night.
Hell all its dark Dominions to him shows,
Death and Destruction their sad Spoils disclose.
He rais'd the Southern Spheres, and bid them rowl
In unmolested Order round their Pole.
His Word suspends the Earth, and stretches forth
Above the empty Void, the Frozen North.
The Constellations shine at his Command,
He form'd their radiant Orbs, and with his Hand
He weigh'd, and put them off with such a Force
As might preserve an Everlasting Course.
This mighty King, whose Universal Sway
This, and the spacious Worlds above, obey;

244

Encompass'd with a vast Abyss of Light,
And mounds of Glory of excessive height,
Do's still unseen, and unmolested dwell,
Conceal'd in Splendor Inaccessible.
With perfect Wisdom he all Nature guides,
And Empires to precarious Kings divides.
Who while he pleases wear th'Imperial Crown,
And when he pleases lay their Scepter down.
Princes by Him, and mighty Monarchs Reign,
Justice Decree, and all their Laws ordain.
He first unsheaths the Sword, then bids it go,
And make a sinful Land Heav'n's Vengeance know.
The glitt'ring Spoiler not to be withstood,
Triumphs in Wounds, and Death, and reeks in Blood.
Enthron'd, on slaughter'd Heaps the Tyrant reigns,
And spreads with ghastly Spoils the Crimson Plains.
Where the red Glutton labours to asswage,
With bloody Riot his insatiate Rage.
Thus while the high Divine Commission lasts,
Realms to Destruction doom'd, th'bright Destroyer wasts:
But when th'Almighty bids the Spoiler stand,
He stops his Course, and owns the great Command.
He choaks th'Infernal Throat of Howling War,
And the black Mouths of Horror and Despair.
All Martial Noise, Uproar, and Tumult, cease,
Husht by the soft melodious Voice of Peace.
Long war-like Spears are chang'd for Shepherds Crooks,
And Swords and Shields for Spades' and pruning Hooks.
The Woolly Flocks again adorn the Hills,
And Rural Care the busy Vally fills.

245

The grisly shapes of Death and Terror gone,
New Life and Joy the smiling Regions crown.
So when a black Tempestuous Night is past
In which loud Winds have lofty Tow'rs defac'd
The Mountains rent, and laid the Forrest wast,
This strife the Morn composes with her Charms,
And all the fighting Elements disarms.
A joyful Peace succeeds this Stormy War,
And calms the troubled Empire of the Air.
The Sun's bright Beams the reeking Meads adorn,
And chearful Lab'rers to their toil return.
He in set bounds do's wild Ambition keep,
And to her say's, as to the raging Deep,
Here stop before the Bars which I have laid.
Here shall thy proud insulting Waves be staid,
They strive in vain these Banks to overflow,
Thus far they shall, but shall no farther go.
The Fate of Empires flow from his Command,
And all the Hearts of Kings are in his hand.
Which by his skill are guided and inclin'd
Ends to promote those Princes ne'er design'd.
Sometimes he raises by a mighty hand
Tyrannic Monsters to Supream Command,
At once to rule, and scourge a Sinful Land.
Who like the Prince of Darkness to asswage
Infernal Malice, and to cloy their Rage
Furys and bloody Ministers employ
Mankind with various Torments to destroy.
These mighty Nimrods eager of their Food
Hunt down Mankind and bath themselves in Blood.

246

Kingdoms with Desolation they deface
And in their Rage extirpate Adam's Race.
Then if the Guilty their Defection mourn,
And back to Vertue's Heav'nly Path return,
If humble Prayer and penitential Crys
With sacred Violence invade the Skys,
Which are the only Gyants that assail
The Throne of Heav'n, and in the War prevail,
For Heav'n and Earth together still repent,
This of its Guilt, that of the Punishment;
Th'Almighty's Bowels mov'd within him turn
And in his Breast mild flames of Mercy burn.
His Heart with soft Compassion melted flows
And he Decrees to ease that Nation's Woes.
Then do's he cause some Hero to arise,
Some mighty Leader, Valiant Just and Wise,
Some Moses, Joshua, Jeptha, Constantine,
Some pious Hercules of Race divine,
Some Arthur, or some Branch of Arthur's Line.
For this great Race with numerous Heros stor'd,
Always some great Deliverer will afford.
These he enjoyns the Monsters to invade,
And to support them gives his constant aid.
These from the Earth Tyrannic Spoilers chase,
The great Reproach and Plague of Humane Race.
These Ministers of Heav'n midst loud applause
Restore Religion, Right, and antient Laws.
Then fruitful Peace spreads out her brooding Wings,
And her bright train of Blessings Justice brings.

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All freed from Violence and War-like noise,
Beneath their Fig-tree and their Vine rejoyce.
These Hero's from above derive the Fire
And Force Divine, that dos their Breasts inspire.
The God-like Vigour and th'Immortal Ray
That breaks so brightly thro' their purer Clay
Kind Heav'n bestows; to form a noble Mind
For great Events and mighty Deeds design'd.
And from the glorious Fountain whence it came,
Divine Supplys must feed the Hero's Flame.
And when their Arms attempt Illustrious Deeds,
Assisted from above their Sword succeeds.
Their Safety springs from Heav'n's peculiar Care,
And from its Aid their Laurels gain'd in War.
The Lord of Hosts dos in the Battel spread
His spacious Shield above his Favorite's Head.
He in the Army's Front dos still appear,
And shakes from far his vast Almighty Spear.
He whets his glitt'ring Sword, prepares his Bow,
And shoots his fatal Shafts amidst the Foe.
What certain Triumph may those Chiefs expect,
Whose Arms Omnipotence dos thus Protect?
The strong the Battel, and the Swift the Race
May often gain, but not of Right, but Grace.
He often his controuling Power to show,
Bestows the Victory on the Weak, and Slow.
He often in the subtile Net ensnares
The crafty Statesman, which himself prepares.

248

He turns their Counsels into Foolishness,
And makes the Wise their Ignorance Confess,
Some flight, but unexpected Incident
Cast in by him, shall all their Schemes prevent.
Proud Monarchs, who on numerous Troops rely,
And neighb'ring States united force defy,
He's often pleas'd as Captives to bestow
On their much Weaker, tho' successful Foe,
He do's their Pride by their Defeat upbraid,
And shows no Power is great without his Aid.
The Fall of Kingdoms is by him decreed,
And from his Will Events of War proceed.
He strikes Amazement thro a Camp, and then
Shrubs on the Hills appear like Armed Men.
A Flight of Birds, or else a murm'ring Breeze
Shaking the tops of neighb'ring Mulb'ry Trees,
When Consternation has prepar'd the Far,
Like mighty Hosts upon their March appear,
Or rapid Torrents which from Mountains gush,
Or raging Armys that to battel rush.
They think the Earth, so fear perswades them, feels
Steeds trampling Hoofs, and brazen Chariot Wheels.
When none pursue th'affrighted Cohorts fly,
Fear finds them Wings, that found the Enemy.
Against themselves he can their Swords employ,
And by their mutual Wounds an Host destroy.
He can their stoutest Chiefs and Legions scare,
With clouds in Warriours shape, and Steeds of Air,
With glaring Meteors, and Fantastic War.

249

A slight mistake can valiant Troops defeat,
Or groundless Fame oblige them to retreat.
He can his Stars his glitt'ring Host above
Draw out in bright Array, and make them move
In radiant Lines of War to Charge the Foe,
And on them deadly Influence to throw.
All his Arm'd Elements in Battel stand
Eager t'engage, and Fight at his Command.
His Airy Troops, Winds, Rain, and Snow, and Hail,
Heav'ns signal giv'n, the trembling Foe assail.
He by a thousand ways can make appear
How weak Man's Power, how vain his Counsels are.
He can of Insects raise a mighty Host
That shall invade his Foes best guarded Coast.
These wing'd Battalions muster in the Sky,
And rang'd in Battel round his Standard fly.
Raw Vapours he can List, Corruption Arm,
And raise from every Hedge a war-like swarm.
With Worms and Flys he can Commissions trust,
And for new Levys can impress the Dust.
He can of Frogs a croaking Army form,
That shall their Bulwarks Scale, their Castles Storm,
That through their Cedar Palaces shall stalk,
And thro' their Rooms of State in Triumph walk.
All these the Lord of Nature can employ,
And by their force his haughty Foes annoy.
But this he need not do, unless to show
How many ways he can destroy the Foe.
For he th'Angelio Armys can Command
Who to observe his nod, Obsequious stand,

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Arm'd with Celestial Swords all bright and keen,
As that which o'er Jerusalem was seen,
When in the Air the fierce Destroyer stood
Reeking in Slaughter, and distain'd with Blood.
These on the Foe, when the high Order's giv'n,
Can draw down all th'Artillery of Heav'n.
They such destructive Weapons can Employ
As in a moment will Great Hosts destroy.
Believe that Heav'n engages on your Side,
Will aid your Arms and humble Gallia's Pride.
Believe your Swords drawn in the Almighty's Cause,
Will Conquest Win, and meet a loud Applause.

Great Armacan whose Breast Prophetic Fire
Descending from above did oft inspire,
Whose venerable Words our Isle believ'd,
And as divine Predictions still receiv'd,
A famous Prophecy has left behind
Of Woes against Lutetia's Sons design'd.
Wherein it clearly do's appear that you
Are rais'd by Heav'n Lutetia to subdue.
Your certain Hopes of Conquest to create
At large the Prophecy I'll now relate.

Make hast, to all the loftiest Mountains fly,
From whose aspiring Tops amidst the Sky,
You may the Regions all around survey,
Aloft the waving Banner there display.
Aloft th'Almighty's Royal Sandard rear,
Spread out the War-like Ensigns thro' the Air,
And let the bloody Flag denounce the War.

251

Then call aloud to all the Countrys round,
And fill the wide Horizon with the sound.
Call with a mighty Voice that may alarm
The Realms beneath, and make the Nations Arm.
That all may hasten to the noble toyl,
To easy Conquest, but to Wealthy Spoil.
My sanctify'd, my Chosen Chief, and all
My mighty Warriours, and my Captains call.
Call all my Generals, and my Legions forth,
The Ministers of my avenging Wrath.
A mighty Race, that by their Arms design
Not their own Glory to promote, but mine.

Hark, what a mighty noise the Mountain fills,
How loud it Ecchoes from Contiguous Hills?
How do's the Clamor and tumultuous Sound
Of marching, Armys from the Sky rebound?
What gath'ring Clouds advance, and bring from far
The heavy Tempest of Impending War?
What confluent Multitudes, what numerous Troops
O'erspread the Hills, and crown the Mountains tops?
How fierce they look? how bright their Arms appear?
How wide a Front of War how deep a Rear?
The God of Armys do's his Power display,
And draws his dreadful Battel in Array.
On high they muster, and with martial Grace
In long Review before their General pass.
Embattled Squadrons swarm upon the Plain,
T'attend th'Almighty in his great Campaign.

252

The glorious Leader grasps his Sword and Shield,
And with his war-like Myriads takes the Field.
Ah! Mourn Lutetia, let thy sorrows grow
Boundless and vast, as thy approaching Woe.
Break open all thy secret stores of Grief
Exhaust thy Weeping Springs, hope no Relief,
Torments pursue thee which exceed Belief.
Let Grief and Anguish reign with lawless sway;
For this proud City is thy dismal Day,
This is thy Fatal and Surprizing Hour
When Heav'n will vast destruction on thee pour.
These storms of Vengeance which the Skys o'erspread
Shall be discharg'd on thy aspiring Head.
These mighty Preparations all are made
With dreadful War thy Empire to invade.
Now Sorrows unexpressible are felt,
And in their Breasts the Hearts of Warriours melt.
Ghastly Distraction do's each Soul possess,
And strange Amazement all their looks confess.
Never such wild and hideous shapes of Fear,
Never such finish'd Horror did appear.
The miserable World could never show
So exquisite a Grief and such excess of Woe.
Gigantic Terrors, Anguish and Despair,
And shiv'ring, howling Fears the City scare.
What Agonys of Grief Lutetia shows
Suddain, and strong as Womens Labour-Throws!

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How she bewails her Fate, and well she may,
For now draws nigh th'Almighty's wrathful Day.
How sad a Day? what Storms of Vengeance rise?
What black Destruction gathers in the Skies?
Oh, inauspicious Day! amazing Sight!
Oh, Day more dreadful than the blackest Night!
See, how th'Almighty comes, with how much hast
He marches on to lay Lutetia wast?
Mark, in his Eyes what vengeful Fury glows?
What angry Clouds hang on his frowning brows?
How keen his Sword? how terrible his Shield?
What temper'd Light'nings do's the Conquerour weild?
How vast his Host? how bright their Armor shines?
How long the Order of th'Embattled Lines?
How great this Day is when, with Sword in hand,
Th'Almighty marches to destroy thy Land;
Thy lofty Walls, Lutetia, to surround,
And level thy proud Turrets with the ground?
Th'affrighted Stars retreat into the Sky,
And from Heav'n's brow and outmost Frontier fly,
Unable to preserve their Posts, and view
The bloody Labour ready to ensue.
The Planets starting at the dismal Sight,
Forsake their Orbs, and wander far in Night.
The Sun so long to woful Sights inur'd,
Owns this is worse than e'er he yet endur'd.
For he no sooner from the East displays
O'er all th'Etherial Fields his golden Rays,

254

But strait he startles, and do's backwards run,
And of its Light defrauds the sick'ning Moon.
Against th Unjust th'Almighty do's declare,
Against th'wicked he advances War.
He'll from the Earth this impious Race destroy,
And with their Slaughter will his Fury cloy.
He'll give his ravening Sword their Flesh for Food,
And make his thirsty Arrows drunk with Blood.
He from their Thrones will haughty Princes thrust,
And roll their awful Purple in the Dust.
The Proud and Mighty who the Earth Oppress,
His Justice by their Ruin shall Confess.
Such Universal Woe, such Misery,
Such shall th'unheard of Desolation be,
That Men with strict enquiry must be sought,
Grown fearce, as Gems from farthest India brought.
Precious and rare as Ophir's Golden Oar,
Or purest Pearl from wanton Asia's Shore.
How hard 'twill be to find a Man's abode,
And when 'tis found he'll be with Wonder show'd,
The strangest Savage that frequents the Wood.
With Nails o'ergrown, wild Looks, and matted Hair,
He'll sculk in Caves, or wander in Despair.
And if by chance a roaming Beast of Prey
Shall meet him in his solitary VVay,
He'll wonder at a Monster so unknown,
And yield himself by the Man-Beast out-done.

255

When God in Fury wields his deadly Sword,
Nature to see the Terrors of it's Lord,
Amaz'd, and frighted to its Centre, shakes,
Forgets her Duty, and her Course forsakes.
His Wrath o'erturns the Mountains rocking Heaps,
And the scar'd Earth from its strong Basis leaps.
The trembling World's distorted Pillars crack,
And high above prevailing Chaos back,
The Poles stand up to point out Nature's Wreck.
As when a Roe do's on the Hills appear,
Chas'd by the Dogs, and his own swifter fear,
O'er Woods and Lawns he trips, light as the Wind,
And leaves his Foes, tho' not his Fears behind.
So shall thy Sons to Foreign Climates take
Their hasty flight, and thy vext Soil forsake.
In distant Realms they'll thy Destruction mourn,
But ne'er to this accursed Land return.
As scatter'd Sheep without a Shepherd stray,
Expos'd to every Rawening Beast a Prey,
So shall thy Children o'er the Mountains roam
Naked, Distrest, without a Guide or Home.
None to the straggliing Fugitives shall show
The least Compassion to asswage their Woe.
A thousand ways they'll from Destruction fly,
And by a thousand various Terrors dy.
Those who remain about her shall afford
A bloody Harvest to the raging Sword.

256

All her Adherents in this fatal Hour
Which either lov'd her Gold, or fear'd her Power,
In her Distress Lutetia shall forsake,
Lest of her Cup of Vengeance they partake.
Those who before her Majesty ador'd,
Proclaim'd her Praises, and her Aid implor'd,
Of her Destruction shall Spectators stand,
And point, and say, is this the fruitful Land?
This the great City so ador'd of late?
What an amazing Turn is this of Fate!
Where are her Walls and lofty Pillars? where
Her Towers that shone so glorious in the Air?
Where all her gilded Battlements and Spires
Whose Height and Light outvy'd the Heav'nly Fires?
Where is her Tyrian Pomp, her Robes of state?
Where the high Courts where she in Judgment fate?
Those who enslav'd themselves for Gallic Gold
Betray'd their Trust, and native Country sold,
Who still with zeal her Praises did proclaim,
And with their Guilt advanc'd Lutetia's Fame,
Shall in Lutetia's Desolation fall,
While they in vain for her Protection call.
How will the envious Race with Malice burst,
How will th'Anointed of the Lord be curst
By their black mouths, when with his mighty Host
He marches on to proud Lutetia's Coast?
What anguish will they feel? what shiv'ring Fear
When they the Briton's mighty Triumphs hear?

257

When he shall pull their Gallic Idol down,
And spreading Laurels shall his temples Crown.
The Lord of Hosts shall call his Armys forth,
Enroll his Troops and Muster in the North.
He shall his Warriours from Britannia bring,
Led on to Triumph by their mighty King.
With these the War-like Nations shall combine,
That come from Alba's Banks, and drink the Rhine.
This valiant Host, th'Almighty will engage
On Gallia's Soil to execute his Rage.
Vig'rous their Limbs and roughly great their Mind,
Patient of Labour, and for War design'd.
All great in Arms, all men of mighty Name,
Not Wealth and Spoil but Conquest is their Aim.
The nobly flight rich Ophir's Golden vein,
And look on Silver Heaps with just disdain.
These to Lutetia's Walls their Arms advance
To humble and correct her Arrogance.
The tender Offspring of the Womb shall dy,
And dash'd to pieces on the Pavement ly.
Th'Inexorable Sword around shall rage
Without distruction made of Sex or Age.
The fierce Destroyer shall thy Nobles meet,
And lay thy Youth in heaps in every street.
Children shall trembling to their Father sly,
And at his feet shall by the Javelin dy.
Scar'd Infants cling about the Mothers neck,
And on the Invader look with Horror back,

258

But stab'd within her Arms they fill with blood
The Parent's Bosom whence it lately flow'd.
Affrighted Maids th'insulting Foe to shun
To screaming Mothers for Protection run,
But neither earnest Crys, nor Youthful Charms
Can melt th'Invader, and Arrest his Arms.
The Cruel, Deaf, and Unrelenting Spear
Shall not Compassion's tender Accents hear,
Or mov'd by Mercy, Youth or Beauty spare.
Thou mighty City, Gaul's Imperial Head
Which hast so Wide thy Fame and Conquests spred,
And in proud Triumph Captive Princes led,
Which as an Empress hast been long renown'd,
Enrich'd with Spoils, which Power and Plenty crown'd,
Thy Day's at hand, thy fatal Hour is come
That brings at last th'Irrevocable Doom.
The British King his Royal Standard reers,
See where his Host upon the Hills appears.
He shall abase thy Pride, thy slaves release,
Revenge her Wrongs and give Europa Peace.
He shall thy strong and deep Foundations raze,
And on thy Ruins build Immortal Praise.
Thy lofty Towers that with Majestic Pride
In Height and Glory with each other vy'd.
Which their aspiring Heads before did thrust
Amidst the Clouds now hide them in the Dust:
They in their broken Arms each other take,
And ghastly Friendship in Destruction make.

259

High Roofs of Cedar from Assyria brought,
Rare Statues all by ancient Masters wrought,
Dishes of massy Silver high embost,
And Marble Pillars from Ausonia's Coast,
Tables inlaid amazing to behold,
Mucovian Furrs, and India's purest Gold,
Sydonian Luxury, and wealth Immense
Engross'd with wondrous care, and vast expence.
These mingled by Lutetia's fall shall meet,
And spread with noble Rubbish every Street.
In after times thou'lt be with wonder show'd
Magnificent in heaps, in Ruin proud.
'Twill Learning be thy Monuments to know,
And those thought Wise who thy Remains can show.
Grave Antiquarys shall the Traveller lead
Around the Heaps, and on thy Reliques read.
They'l point, and to th'admiring Stranger cry,
See, yonder where those lofty Ruins ly,
There stood Lutetia's King's Imperial Seat,
Amazing then, now in Destruction Great.
Delicious Gardens on th'inclining Side
Of that fair Hill display'd their flowry Pride.
What Labyrinths of everlasting Green,
What lovely Walks adorn'd that Heav'nly Scene.
Fountains of wondrous Art did ever flow,
And high into the Air their Waters throw.
Statues that Skill Inimitable show'd
In beauteous order on the Terras stood:
They stood indeed but yet such Life did show,
Spectators wonder'd why they did not go.

260

How sweet a Shade Confederate Trees did spread,
Raising to Heav'n but one continued Head.
There a Canal, a noble Flood contain'd,
Which from reluctant Nature Art had gain'd,
Where Boats of Pleasure pass'd along the Shores
With Silken Pendants, and with gilded Oars.
Elastic Engines wrought with wondrous Skill
And mighty Cost, rais'd Waters to the Hill
Which first the Fountains fill'd, and then below
Did all collected in the Channel flow.
Now, as you see, the wild neglected Field
Do's only Thorny Shrubs and Thistles yield.
Now view the Reliques of that pompous Arch
Thro' which King Salmo did in Triumph march
Upon the Stones you may with Horror see
Th'Inscriptions, and audacious Blasphemy
With which to flatter his enormous Pride,
Court Sycophants their Monarch Deify'd.
There see the Baths and Aqueducts, and there
See where the Dome its lofty Head did reer.
This shall, proud City, be thy dismal State,
The next to Sodom's and Gomorrah's Fate:
The Shepherd's shall not here their Tents extend,
Nor in their Folds their bleating Flocks defend.
The Savage Kind shall their old Haunts forsake,
And in this wilder Seat their Refuge take.
The Serpents in thy Cedar Rooms shall ly,
And o'er thy Heaps shall hisling Dragons fly.

261

In thy gilt Rooms shall rest th'ill-boding Owl,
And Wolves within thy Palaces shall howl.
About thy Streets the ravening Bear shall stray,
And in thy Courts her unshap'd Whelps shall lay.
The Lyon shall possess thy Prince's Throne,
The next Apartment shall the Panther own.
The Tyger here his Residence shall make,
And there the Leopard shall his Lodging take.
The Bittern midst thy mosly Heaps shall cry,
Vultures and all the Pyrates of the Sky,
To this amazing Wilderness shall fly.
All Beasts and Birds of Prey shall hither come,
That beat the Air, or thro' the Forest roam:
A dire Convention, yet a milder Race
Than what before possest this Cruel place.
Now, Valiant Britons, you may clearly see
Your Arms are meant in this great Prophecy.
You are th'Almighty's Chiefs, his Chosen Host
By him drawn out t'invade Lutetia's Coast.
Success and Triumph to your Arms belong,
Play but the Men, and for your God be strong.
Now let your Valour and resistless Sword,
Shew that you fight the Battel of the Lord.
Who in Compassion to Britannia's Fate,
The Mighty Arthur rais'd to save her State.
He, by this God-like Moses set you free
From your hard Tasks, and Marks of Slavery.
And by a thousand various Wonders wrought,
The British Youth from heavy Bondage brought.

262

See where your war-like Joshua ready stands,
To lead your Troops to Vanquish Pagan Lands.
Advance then to Correct the Gallic Pride,
Arthur has God, and Vict'ry on his side.
He ceas'd. The Captains to their Tents retir'd,
With Caledon's Seraphic Tongue inspir'd,
A martial Heat did in their Bosoms glow,
And all impatient seem'd t'engage the Foe.

263

BOOK X.

Soon as the rising Sun's victorious Light
Had Scal'd, and pass'd the gloomy Mounds of Night.
The British Partys who to beat the Road
And gain Intelligence were sent abroad,
Returning to the Camp did Tydings bring,
That as Commanded by the Gallic King
His Cavalry advanc'd at distance lay,
Off from the Foot, and Arbel did obey.
Clotar himself did with the Foot remain,
Which lay encamp'd on rich Lutetia's Plain.

Then did King Arthur let his Captains know
That he the Horse would Lead and Charge the Foe,
Commanding that the Foot with utmost speed
Should onward march to share the glorious Deed.

Great Arthur with Heroic Ardor warm'd
His Weapons took and for the Battel Arm'd.
Round his strong Legs he made his Pieces fast
With Silver Studds, and Golden Buttons grac'd.
Then did he lace his polish'd Helmet on
Which with distinguish'd wondrous brightness shone.
A noble Plume did his high Crest adorn,
Fair as the Morning Star, or as the Morn.

264

A Purple Searf, like mild Aurora's pride,
Enrich'd with Golden Taslels grac'd his Side.
Next, like the Moon at full, his spacious Shield
Blaz'd on his Arm and dazled all the Field.
As Forges full of melted Oar by night
Appear at distance to the Travellers sight,
Where brawny Smith besmear'd with Smoke and Sweat.
For Ships of War unweildy Anchors beat.
So did the Warriour's Burnish'd Buckler glow,
And such fierce Light did from the Metal flow.
His mighty Fauchion which of all the Field,
Two of the strongest Chiefs could scarcely weild,
Whose fatal Edge so many Heros felt,
Hung down suspended in his glorious Belt.
Then his long Spear he took which in his hand
When firmly grip'd shook like an Osier wand.
As when a Cyclops with his pondrous Sledge
On the hard Anvil strikes a flaming Wedge,
When he designs the malleable mass
Shall into some Capacious Caldron pass,
The fiery Dust at every blow that flys
And glaring Light vex the Spectator's Eyes.
The Briton's Arms shone thus excessive bright,
Darted keen Glances and uneasy Light,
And tho' his Glory pleas'd, it pain'd the Sight.
While thus the Monarch Arm'd, his noble Steed
Sprung from Britannic mixt with Thracian Breed,
Praunc'd in the Negro's hand, and tost around
His generous Foam that Whiten'd all the ground.

265

In his hot Mouth he champt the Golden Bit,
And paw'd the Vally with his thund'ring Feet.
The King advanc'd, and in his Martial Heat
Mounting the Steed, and leaping cross the Seat
Such was the clanking of his Arms as made,
By the surprize his starting Friends affraid.
The fiery Beast Impatient of the Rein,
Curveted, Bounc'd, and Bounded o'er the Plain.
The Eagle scarcely flew so swift and strong,
When she to Heav'n, as ancient Poets sung,
From Ætna's Caves, and Vulcan's fiery Store
Hot Thunderbolts, and vengeful Light'ning bore.
Thus the swift Courser past, and thro' the Air
Did on his back the glorious Tempest bear.

Next Osor General of the British Horse
In order follow'd, Arthur's rapid Course.
Then Noble Clovis warm with martial Heat
Advanc'd his great Atchievements to repeat.
Now all the Squadrons from the Camp were pour'd,
All bold in Arms and to the Field inur'd.
The Trumpet's cheerful Voice the Region fills,
Redoubled by the Rocks and ecchoing Hills.
The Heav'ns with Arms and war-like noise resound,
And fiery Coursers shake the trembling Ground.
Thick Clouds of Smoke and Foam around e'm fly,
And rising Fogs of Dust obscure the Sky.
Soon Albion's Monarch with his speedy Course
Came within prospect of King Clotar's Horse.

266

The numerous Squadrons rang'd in Battel stood,
And look'd at distance like an Iron Wood.
As when a gathering Tempest do's arise
With sullen Brow, and slowly mounts the Skys,
The Stygian Vapours from their Caves repair
To the black Rendezvous amidst the Air.
Th'embattled Clouds in gloomy Throngs ascend,
And cross the Sky their dreadful Front extend.
So thick the Franks appear'd along the Plain,
Ready th'invading Briton to sustain.
A Grove of Lances o'er the Region spreads,
With Bucklers intermixt and burnish'd Heads.
As when some famous Master Engineer,
Such as great Ricar and Becano are,
A Triumph for some Conqueror do's prepare.
Bright Rockets, Serpents, Stars of Nitre rise,
And mingling Fires Inlighten all the Skys.
Proud Pyramids aloft to Heav'n aspire
Adorn'd with Wreathing Flames, and Laurels all of Fire.
So now the Air shone bright with Helms and Spears,
With Corslets, Shields, and plated Cuirassiers.
Arbel who ne'er was Conscious yet of fear,
Soon as he saw the British Troops appear.
Pleas'd with th'important Danger of the day
Resolv'd th'advancing Briton's Course to stay;
And as a prudent Gen'ral did prepare
His numerous Squadrons to receive the War.
He rode thro' all the Regiments and Ranks
To animate and cheer th'Embattled Franks.

267

Then the great Leader in the Center stood,
And to the Troops around him cry'd aloud,
On you, brave Men, Your Prince has still rely'd,
Sure of your Faith and Courage often try'd.
What mighty Warriours have you overcome?
What Captive Princes brought in Triumph home?
What wonders have your Arms in Battel done,
What wealthy Spoils from vanquish'd Nations won?
You've by the glorious Fields which you have fought,
Not only kept what your great Fathers got,
But have by humbling Neighb'ring Monarchs Pride,
Extended Gallia's Empire far and wide.
You have the Power of distant Kingdoms broke,
And on their Necks impos'd the Gallic Yoke.
You have your martial fame and terror spred,
And all Europa's Youth your Ensigns dread.
What Heros ever could your Arms resist?
When have your Squadrons fought, and Conquest mist?
Arthur, 'tis true, did once some Troops defeat,
But must not think his Vict'ry to repeat.
The plying Infantry by giving Way,
The great Disorder caus'd that lost the Day.
You never were engag'd, you ne'er could show
The Fire with which you us'd to Charge the Foe.
Clotar on you his Cavalry relys,
And by your Arms the British Power defys.
'Tis by the Cavalry the Franks have done
Their mighty Deeds, and gain'd their chief Renown.
Your Valour must determine Gallia's Fate,
You are the Bulwark, that protects her State.

268

Who can withstand, brave Men, the fatal Sword
Of Vet'ran Troops to Conquest long inur'd?
What Danger is so great, what Task so hard
That can the Triumphs of such Troops retard?
Scarce had he ended when his Courser's Flanks
The Briton gor'd, and Sprung amidst the Ranks.
His first projected Spear Bermondo slew,
Piercing his Cuirass, Shield, and Body thro':
Drunk with the Wound which inwardly did bleed
The giddy Frank sat tottering on his Steed.
The Courser's Reins fell from his feeble hand,
Then down he headlong fell, and prest the Sand.
Next to the sight strong Osbal did advance,
But in his Breast receiv'd the Briton's Lance.
As Thunder struck from Heav'n, the mighty Gaul
Fell down, and shook the Vally with his fall.
The Conq'ring Briton o'er his Body rode,
And deep into the Sand his reeking Entrails trod.
Stout Monlac next stood in the Briton's way,
And proudly hop'd the Victor's Course to stay.
Thro' his right Eye the Monarch's Weapon past,
And pierc'd his Skull which steel in vain encas'd.
He tumbled from his Seat, and on the ground
He felt his Life departing from his Wound.

Then by Garontes cast a mighty Spear
Cut thro' the downy Bosom of the Air:
Against the Conquering King it took it's Course,
But in his Buckler spent it's dying Force.

269

Garontes wheeling off had strait retir'd,
But that the King with Indignation fir'd,
Flew to the Charge, and with an oblique stroke
His mighty Fauchion thro' the Helmet broke.
He did his Mouth from Ear to Ear divide,
And from the Wound gush'd out a reeking Tyde.
His sever'd Jaw depending ghastly show'd,
And from his Throat he Cough'd up Teeth and Blood.
He fell, and while he lay in torturing Pain,
Hot Coursers trod to Mire his Head and Brain.

Onvil advanc'd the Briton to repel,
But on his Crest the mighty Fauchion fell.
The noble stroke did the strong Captain slun,
Who dropt his Sword, and Shield, and in a Swoon,
A while lay sensless on his Courser's Main,
Then fell, and lay stretcht out amidst the Slain.

Martel, who still the hottest Battel sought,
And from the Combate frequent Laurels brought,
Advanc'd the Monarch's progress to arrest,
And hurl'd his massy Spear against his Breast.
On Arthur's temper'd Shield the Weapon broke,
In pieces slew, and lost the furious stroke.
The King incens'd, flew on t'ingage the Foe,
And at his Neck discharg'd a mighty Blow.
Off leap'd the Head, and murm'ring flew away,
Then gasping in the Dust, and twinkling lay.
So swiftly did the sev'ring Fauchion go,
So quick, so strong, so suddain was the Blow,
That still the Trunk, tho' of the Head depriv'd,
Preserv'd its Seat, and scarce the loss perceiv'd:

270

A while a ghastly Prospect there it staid,
And from the Neck the bloody Fountains play'd,
Which high into the Air their Purple Streams convey'd,
Then down it tumbled, and amidst the Dead,
Lay at a distance from the sever'd Head.
Next Oroban who grew in Battel bold,
Because the Augur when consulted told,
That from the War he should Victorious come,
And chase from Gallia's Coast the Britons home;
Oppos'd the King, but th'unexpected Steel
The wounded Frank did in his Bosom feel.
Approaching Fate he did in vain resist,
Dying he fell, and curst the lying Priest.

The Monarch then sprang forward to Assail,
Lansac, confiding in his Coat of Mail.
The Fauchion thro' the Coat soon passage found,
His Shoulder cleft, and made a ghastly Wound.
The fainting Gaul fell headlong from his seat
And lay extended at the Courser's feet.
Then thus the Pious King the Frank bespoke,
At last thy Crimes have met th'avenging stroke.
How many Christians has thy Savage hand
Rack'd and destroy'd, pleas'd with thy Lord's Command?
No Torments, no Destruction could asswage
Thy thirst of Blood, and Persecuting Rage.
Think on the Arts thy Malice did invent,
T'afflict the Poor, and vex the Innocent.
Now thou must suffer for th'atrocious Guilt,
For all the Blood thy impious hand has spilt.

271

Then his bright Spear he thro' his Body thrust,
Spur'd on his Steed, and crush'd him in the Dust.
Torbet stood next, distinguish'd from the rest
Both by his gaudy Arms, and Priestly Vest.
But when he saw th'advancing Conqueror near,
And ready to discharge his massy Spear,
He from th'Invader turn'd his Courser's head,
And from the dreadful danger would have fled.
But then desparing to escape by Flight,
And yet affraid to undertake the Fight,
Trembling and Pale with fear himself he threw
At Arthur's Feet, and thus for Life did sue.
Pity, great Prince, as well as Courage show,
And turn from Torbet's head your fatal Blow.
My Death alass can no Applauses move,
Nor can my worthless Life e'er Dang'rous prove.
A Priest I am, but never did perswade
With Fire and Sword the Christians to invade.
I ne'er did Clotar's Cruelty Commend,
But thought such Deeds Heav'n's Vengeance would attend.
I still Compassion to the Sufferers shew'd,
And ne'er my hands in Christian blood embru'd.
He said. The King the trembling Coward left
By his own Fears almost of Life bereft.
Then Bramar trusting to his mighty Force
Came boldly on t'oppose the Monarch's Course.
Proudly he rein'd his generous, milk-white Steed
As Thracian bold, swift as Iberian Breed.

272

The Briton's Spear aim'd at his shining Crest,
Missing the Rider struck the prauncing Beast,
And entring deep lay buried in his Chest.
He on his hinder Feet himself did rear,
And with the foremost paw'd, and beat the Air;
Then on the ground he fell, and with his fall
The groaning Courser crush'd the war-like Gaul.
Arthur advanc'd, and gave the fatal Wound;
The Weapon fixt the Body to the ground.
At Dagbert next, and Marodel he flew,
The first his Spear, the last his Fauchion slew:
This split the Brain, that with a furious stroke
The Warriour's Ankle-bone to Splinters broke.
Then Cossan, Aldar, Molan, Sarabel,
Aranda, Clobar, and Elviran fell.
As when loud Boreas blows his stiffest Gales,
To swell some War-like Ship's expanded Sails,
Driv'n with the furious Wind the Vessel braves
The foaming Troops, and thick embattled Waves.
O'er Billows thronging Heads the Victor rides,
Cuts thro', and all the watry Host divides.
With equal Force the Valiant Briton slew
Amidst the Ranks, and charg'd as swiftly thro'.
Osor mean time broke thro' th'opposing Franks,
And bravely plung'd amidst the thickest Ranks.
Great Shabron's Head his fatal Fauchion cleft,
And on the ground th'expiring Pagan left.
T'engage the Briton Rimon did advance;
But in his Buckler broke th'unprosperous Lance.

273

Osor incens'd advanc'd to Charge the Foe,
Pois'd his long Spear and pierc'd his Body thro'.
The Pagan sinking backward lost the Rein,
The affrighted steed ran wild across the Plain
And dropt the dying Frank amidst the Slain.
Next the brave Warriour did his Javelin throw
At Ulna's Breast, which tho' it mist the Foe,
The glittering point his Steed's right Eye-ball past,
And stuck within the bloody Orbit fast.
High in the Air he rose, then to the ground
He backward fell, expiring with the wound.
Struck Breathless with the Fall, the noble Frank
Lay with his Shoulders on the Courser's Flank.
Quick to the ground the Briton from his Seat
With ardor leap'd, his Conquest to compleat.
He laid his left Hand on the Warriour's Crest,
And with his right Hand stab'd him in the Breast.
Then Andolan of Ammon's noble Line
Born on the flowry Banks of Silver Sein,
Spur'd his hot Steed, and griping fast his Spear,
Ran at the Briton with a full Career.
Illustrious Osor ne'er to fear inur'd,
T'engage the Frank his Courser onward spur'd.
Then with a mighty shock the Coursers met
Dismounting both the Riders from their Seat.
So when two Ships their Contest to decide
In rude Rencounters meet upon the Tide,
No more the Sailors can their Decks maintain,
But with the Shock are forc'd into the Main.

274

Their feet recover'd, soon the Champions drew
Their flashing Blades, and to the Combate flew.
Forwards stretcht out they did their Bodys bend,
And with uplifted Shields their Heads defend.
Vast strokes were now discharg'd on either side,
Strokes that with ease would unarm'd Limbs divide.
Their Armour was deform'd with numerous dints,
And their bruis'd Bucklers shew'd the Fauchions prints.
For Conquest long the Captains did contend,
And in vast strokes their Martial Vigour spend.
Still both the Combatants maintain'd their ground,
Neither had given, nor yet receiv'd a Wound.
At last their Strength with equal honour spent,
To end the noble Combate both consent.
The valiant Chiefs in friendly manner part,
Praising each other's Strength, each other's Art.
The generous Briton to the Gallic Lord
Did for a present give a famous Sword.
The Haft an Agate was from India brought,
Where inlaid Trees, and Birds by Nature wrought
Appear'd distinct and fair, as Ants and Bees
Kill'd and Entomb'd in drops from Amber Trees.
With their best Skill Iberian Masters made
Of purest temper'd Steel the faithful Blade.
The ample Scabbard which the Sword did hold,
Shone bright with glitt'ring Gems and Studs of Gold.
This Sword Nazaleod from rich Colmar won,
When he the Saxon slew with great renown,
And his rich Spoils midst loud Applauses brought
From the fam'd Battel at Gallena fought:

275

The Sword Nazaleod to great Osor gave
Whose Arms did once his Life in Battel save.
The noble Frank a Saddle did present
Glorious with Gems, with Work magnificent.
The Pummel was an Ivory Lyon's Head
That fiercly grin'd, as those in Lybia bred.
The Seat rich Crimson Velvet cover'd o'er,
Like that exported from Liguria's Shore.
Th'embroader'd Skirts were all with Gold besmear'd,
Where Figures wrought with curious Art appear'd.
A Leopard's Skin th'appending Housing was
From Asric brought, and grac'd with Silver Paws.
Elsewhere brave Clovis did the Foe pursue,
And first his massy Spear at Ortan threw.
The temper'd Shield could not it's Force Arrest,
It pass'd the Plys and pierc'd the Warriour's Breast.
The secret Springs of Life the Weapon found,
And broke them open with a fatal Wound.
The Spear fixt in his Breast, some time he hung,
And with his left hand to the Saddle clung,
But with his Right held fast the Courser's Main
And thus a while his Body did sustain.
But Death unstrung his Nerves, and loos'd his hold,
Then in the Sand th'expiring Captain roll'd.
Then with his Battel Ax great Clovis flew
At Maronac, and cleft his Shoulder thro'.
Down on the Ground the Arm dis-joynted dropt,
As a great Limb falls from a Poplar lopt.

276

Strait the dismember'd Frank, a fearful Sight,
Wheel'd off in vain to save his Life by Flight.
Warm streams flew out from every sever'd vein
And mukt with tracks of Blood the Dusty Plain.
Defrauded of his Strength the feeble Gaul
At last did headlong from his Courser fall.
Cold Death forbad his lab'ring Heart to beat,
And in his blood supprest the vital Heat.
Then Carobel who had advanc'd his name
By learned Arts, and Skill in Nature's Fame,
Bold too in Arms, and to the Camp inur'd,
Fell in Lutetia's fields by Clovis Sword:
Thro' Helm and Skull the Fauchion passage found,
Cleft thro' the Brain, and ruin'd with the Wound
The curious Imag'ry by Fancy wrought,
All Mem'ry's Cells, and all the Moulds of Thought.
Next Alloman lay dead, Lugdunum's Pride,
And beauteous Ormal stretcht out by his Side.
Capellan also signaliz'd his Arms,
And boldly prest amidst the Gallic Swarms.
He slew at Lucan with a full Career,
And thro' his Bosom past his fatal Spear.
His second Fromel kill'd, the next he threw
Young Lamar pierc'd, the next Obella slew.
Then his Projected Dart transfixt the Head
Of Grutar's Steed, which on the field lay dead.
Across the Beast on which before he rode
Ghastly with Gore and Dust the Warriour strode

277

With his strong Arm he did his Spear protend,
And with his burnish'd Shield his Head defend.
A while he strove, and bravely kept his ground,
Till the fierce Briton's Spear it's passage found
Thro' Helm and Head, and then with Death opprest
He fell, and lay across th'extended Beast.
While these great leaders so much Honour won,
Elsewhere like Wonders were by Lucius done.
First in his way by luckless Fortune stood,
Young Medolan of Trabor's noble Blood.
The Javelin thro' his Belly made it's way,
And in his wounded Entrails buried lay.
The Youth, so much he was to Arms inclin'd,
Left unenjoy'd his beauteous Bride behind;
He's now embrac'd by Death's unwelcom Arms,
And to another quits her Maiden Charms.
Brave Arcan burning with a Martial Flame,
To aid his wounded Brother swiftly came;
But felt the Briton's Steel within his Veins,
Which thro' his Armour pierc'd the Warriour's Reins.
Upon his Seat he could no longer stay
But fell, and cross his dying Brother lay.
Their mournful Friends look'd on, but were afraid,
So great the Peril was, to give them Aid.
So when a Lyon roaming o'er the Lawns,
Descrys the Thicket where her tender Fawns
The Doe as she believ'd did safely lay,
In do's he leap, and tear the panting Prey

278

The Doe at distance do's their Fate bewail,
But dares not come the Murd'rer to Assail.
While Valiant Lucius such destruction made,
Against the Chief advanc'd a strong Brigade;
And opening to the Right and Left, the Foes
On every side the Leader did enclose.
The noble Briton did himself defend,
While Clouds of Spears from every part they send.
The missive War upon his Buckler rung,
And showers of fruitless Deaths around him sung.
So when fierce Dogs and clam'rous Swains surround
A mighty Boar in neighb'ring Mountains found;
His Bristles high erected on his Back,
The raging Beast withstands the Foes attack:
He whets his dreadful Tusks, and from afar
He foams, and flourishes the Ivory War.
The cautious Huntsmen at a distance rage,
Cast all their Darts, but dare not close engage.
At last the Briton from an unknown Spear,
Receiv'd a painful Wound beneath the Ear.
The striving Blood did thro' his Armour spout
The Franks observing gave a mighty shout.
Thus wounded and opprest, the British Chief
Call'd to his Friends aloud to bring Relief.
It chanc'd that mighty Trelon then was near,
Who to his Squadron cry'd, the Voice I hear
Is Lucius, who encircled with the Foe,
Contends in vain to cut his passage thro'.
To bring him off we'll force the Gallic Ranks.
He said, and strait he spur'd his Courser's Flanks,

279

And shaking in his hand his glitt'ring Lance,
To Charge the Franks with Fury did advance.
The Franks disperst when Trelon first appear'd,
So much they all his famous Courage fear'd.
So when fierce Wolves have seiz'd a fainting Deer,
But newly wounded by the Huntsman's Spear.
With reeking Blood they feast their hungry Jaws,
And the warm Entrails pant beneath their Paws.
But if a Lyon comes, the awful Sight
Do's from their Prey the prowling Race affright.
Then his bright Spear with Fury cast betwixt
The Flank and Chest, great Tolna's Steed transfixt.
The generous Beast beneath the Rider fell:
Tolna th'invading Tempest to repel,
Springing with Vigour from the Courser's back,
Advanc'd on foot great Trelon to attack.
And that the Briton's Fury might be stay'd,
His Left Hand on the Courser's Reins he laid,
And held his flaming Fauchion in the Right,
Resolving thus he would maintain the Fight.
The Britons Steed that Swords and Spears disdain'd,
With Indignation foam'd to be restrain'd:
Trelon enrag'd, divided at a blow
His Arm, which dropt and let the Courser go.
The generous Steed finding the Rein releast,
Sprang forth, and struck stout Tolna in the Breast,
Who breathless fell, with endless Night opprest.
Mean time, at distance Arbel bravely fought,
And wondrous Fame by great Atchievements sought.

280

His Courage, Strength, and Conduct often try'd
Made all the Gallic Youth in him confide
As their Chief Champion, and their surest guide.
He spur'd his fiery Steed, and forwards sprung
Amidst the Troops, and broke th'opposing Throng.
Brave Gomar first his fury did withstand,
But while to cast his Spear he rais'd his hand,
The Frank's bright Lance between his Armour's joynt
Beneath his Arm-pit past its glitt'ring point.
Deep in his breathing Lungs the Weapon lay
The Neustrian's fell, and saw no more the Day.
Cord advanc'd to undertake the Fight,
And threw his Weapon with prodigious might.
The Frank inclin'd his head, and heard the Spear
Aim'd at his Crest pass singing by his Ear.
Then did his Dart against the Briton fly,
And wounded thro' the Plate his brawny Thigh.
A bloody Stream gush'd from the painful wound,
And flowing down his Armour stain'd the ground.
On did th'insulting Frank with fury fly,
And eager to compleat the Victory.
On high his dreadful Battel-Axe did heave,
Hoping in two the Briton's head to cleave.
But as it fell, the Courser rose, and took
Between his Ears the Champions furious stroke.
The Steel sunk thro' his Brain the staggering Beast
Fell, and his weight the wounded Rider prest.
Bold Malgo brought his Squadron up, and freed
The groaning Briton from the unweildy steed.

281

They drew by force the Hero from the Field,
Then bore him off laid on a spacious Shield.
So when a Flag Ship is by Foes o'erborn,
Unmasted, and with Cannon's Thunder torn,
From the hot Fight attending Frigates pull
And Tow along the maim'd, disabled Hull.
Mean time the Briton with his reeking Blade
Had his swift passage to the Quarter made,
Where Arbel's Sword destroy'd, and strew'd around
With Riders and their Steeds th'encumber'd ground
As when a Lyon from a Mountain's side
Has in the Vale a lowing Herd descry'd,
He stands, and turns his furious Eyes about,
The strongest, sowrest Bull to single out,
One worthy of his Rage, by all the Herd
Obey'd as Lord, and by each Rival fear'd:
Then having fixt his choice aloud he roars,
Proclaims the War, and to the Combate scowrs.
So Arthur keeping Arbel in his Eye,
Did to the sight with dreadful fury sly.
The Gaul observ'd the Monarch from afar,
And for the Combate did himself prepare.
High on his Steed the might Warriour sate,
Proud of his Strength, and fearless of his Fate.
Like a great Pine o'ershadowing all the Wood,
Or ancient Poplar reering by the Flood
His lofty head, the towring Pagan stood.
Well-pleas'd to undertake the noble Fight
He did aloud to Arms the King invite.

282

Who on his fiery Steed advancing near,
Projected thro' the Air his pondrous Spear.
The Frank to make his weapon's message vain
Stoop'd down, and lay upon his Courser's Main.
Th'eluded Weapon o'er his Shoulder flew,
And at great distance Caumont's Courser slew.
Then did the Frank employing all his Strength
Discharge his Spear of formidable Length,
Hissing along the Air, the Weapon went,
But in the Hero's Shield its fury spent.
His second Spear the Pious Briton threw
Which like a flash of Lightning swiftly flew.
The wheeling Frank could not the Steel evade
Which thro' his Shield and Thigh its passage made;
Whence deep it sunk within the Courser's Chest,
And fixt the Rider to the wounded Beast.
From both their sever'd veins the reeking Blood
Gush'd out, and mingled in one Common Flood.
Then down they fell and prest the slipp'ry plain,
The Rider wounded, and the Courser slain.
The King with martial Ardor to the ground
Leap'd from his Steed to give the fatal wound.
His dreadful Fauchion glittering in his hand
He o'er the vanquish'd Frank did threatning stand.
The Frank in Anguish, Horrour, and Despair,
Did on the high rais'd Weapon wildly stare.
Then thus the Pious Prince bespoke the Gaul,
Think on thy Barb'rous Deeds, remember all
The Fatherless and Widdows thou hast made,
And Christian Martyrs to the Flames convey'd.

283

What numbers has thy single hand destroy'd?
What numbers more the Troops by thee Employ'd?
These Impious Deeds thou bloody Instrument
Of Clotar's Cruelty at last Repent.
The Frank reply'd. No Sorrow can I own
For my just anger to the Christians shown.
Can he impiety to me object,
Who do's the Worship of the Gods neglect?
Whose sacrilegious hands their Temples raze
Destroy their Altars, and their Shrines deface?
Who do's the Gods, and Goddesses dethrone,
Denying all th'Immortal Powers, but one.
I grant I still pursu'd the Christian Sect,
And from just Heav'n I my Reward expect,
For sure th'Impartial Gods will ne'er condemn
A Zeal that springs from Reverence to them.
He said. The King reply'd, Remorseless Wretch,
Canst thou in Death such Consolation fetch,
From thy black Guilt, which should thy Conscience Scare,
And fill thy Breast with Terror and Despair?
Tho' thou with Guilt and Prejudice are blind
Thou in thy Torments wilt thy Error find.
This Hand shall send thee to the sad Reward
By Righteous Heav'n for Men of Blood prepar'd.
Then thro' the Frank, extended on the Dust,
His Spear, the King with Indignation thrust.
Thro' his Left Pap it did its passage make,
Transfixt his Breast and stuck within his Back.

284

He fetcht thick dying throbs, and double Sighs,
While endless Night seal'd up his swimming Eyes.
Soon as the Pagans saw their Champion dead,
From Arthur's Arms the trembling Squadrons fled.
The Conquering King did eagerly pursue,
And in the Chace prodigious Numbers slew.
So when tempestuous Boreas stretches forth
His furious Wings, and leaves the frozen North;
Th'insulted Clouds dispers'd, and routed fly,
O'er all the liquid Desarts of the Sky.
The swift Pursuer hangs upon the Rear,
And drives the black Battalions thro' the Air.
While beauteous Celon with a loosen'd Rein,
Flew from the Conquering King across the Plain;
His Courser slipt, and fell by luckless Chance,
To take his Life the Monarch did advance.
When old Velino who together fled,
The Danger saw, he turn'd his Courser's Head;
Beneath the Victor's Feet himself he threw,
And for his Son Young Celon thus did sue.
O spare the Youth, and let, Victorious Prince,
Compassion joyn'd with Power, the World convince,
That by Heroic Enterprises you,
Laurels, but not with Cruelty, pursue.
The Gallic Forces to your Valour yield,
And with inglorious Rout o'erspread the Field.
If you in Pity give, as I entreat,
The Youth his Life, your Vict'ry's still compleat.

285

He's not a Frank sprung from Germanic Race,
But from the Gauls who first possest this place.
His Mother was to Christian Faith inclin'd,
And he was ever to the Christians Kind.
Three of his Brothers on the Field lie slain,
This Son of Nine do's now alone remain;
My only Comfort, and my only Hope,
Of my declining Age the single Prop.
Pity my hoary Head, his blooming years,
The Son's true Virtue, and the Father's Tears.
Pity, if you a Father are, express
To a sad Father in such vast distress:
At least the tender Passion you may know,
Thinking on that your Father show'd to you.
Avert, great Prince, from Celon's Breast your Dart,
Strike rather than the Son's, the Father's Heart.
Velino ceas'd. And from his Eyes apace
The gushing Tears flow'd down his mournful Face.
The Pious King toucht with the moving Prayer,
Forbore the stroke, and did young Celon spare.
Old Man, he cry'd, your Tears your Son reprieve,
Thus twice a Father to him Life you give.
Orban a noble Velocassian Youth,
Who once profess'd the Heav'nly Christian Truth,
But that his Wealth and Life might be secur'd,
Renounc'd Religion, and his God abjur'd.
Now felt King Arthur's Spear within his Reins,
And finding Death creep Cold along his Veins:

286

Mad with Despair aloud th'Apostate cry'd,
Curst be the hour when I my God deny'd.
The Ease, and Life, and Wealth I valu'd most,
Are by the ways I strove to save them lost.
Now must I Torments, Agonys, Despair,
And everlasting Throws of Conscience bear.
More had he said, but interposing Death
To form his Words deny'd Supplys of Breath.
The King continu'd his pursuit, and made
A dreadful Slaughter till the Evening Shade,
To stop the Victor's Course, did interpose
Between the Britons and their flying Foes.
Arthur return'd in Triumph to his Tent,
Where he to Heav'n, in solemn manner sent
Religious Praises, and his God ador'd,
Who once more, had with Conquest crown'd his Sword.

287

BOOK XI.

When Lucifer observ'd the Pagans flee,
And the great Briton crown'd with Victory,
O'er-boiling Rage his lab'ring Mind possest,
And thoughts of deep Revenge o'erwhelm'd his Breast.

Then thus he to himself:
Must Europe still with Acclamations ring,
And loud Applauses of the British King?
Must he his glorious Triumphs still repeat,
All my Allies, and faithful Friends defeat?
Can no obstructions stay his rapid Course?
No Task unequal for the Briton's Force?
Can I no Dangers, no fresh Plagues Invent?
Is Lucifer grown dull and impotent,
My Arts exhausted, and my Vigour spent?
Are all my Torments, all my Vengeance gone?
Must I the Briton's Strength Superiour own?
Shall Hell's great Prince, and Monarch of the Air,
Sit tamely down, and languish in Despair,
Unable longer to support the War?
Would such a Deed become my high Degree,
My Station in th'Infernal Hierarchy?
I shall dishonour by th'inglorious Course,
Immortal Malice, and Immortal Force.

288

I shall debase our great and God-like Race,
And draw on Hell Indelible Disgrace.
Thus shall I shun insulting Michael's scorn?
Thus the Seraphic Character adorn?
Hell's Sanhedrim my Weakness will proclaim,
And vulgar Demons will Affront my Name.
Can I endure to hear my Subjects say,
I did my Empire, and their Cause betray?
No Fellow Deitys you ne'er shall find,
Or Pains or Danger once by me declin'd
To serve the Int'rests of th'Infernal State;
No Disappointments shall my Zeal abate.
I'll still the Briton and his Friends pursue,
Shew him fresh Dangers, and the War renew.

He said. And strait his spacious Wings display'd
Which hid the Moon, and cast prodigious Shade;
Soaring he cut the liquid Region thro',
And to the Palace of King Clotar flew.
Arriving there th'Apostate took his way
To find th'Apartment where Palmida lay.
Palmida was a Priest, whose Hellish Rage,
And thirst of Blood, no Victims could asswage.
He o'er Lutetia's Altars did preside,
Did Clotar's Councils, and his Conscience guide.
By him inspir'd, he laid his Kingdom wast,
And from the Realm the peaceful Christian chas'd.
Then that th'Apostate Seraph might appear,
Ambitious Orgal to Palmida dear.

289

The late High Priest who did Lutetia guide
With equal Cruelty, and equal Pride.
He with Angelick skill did soon prepare
A priestly Shape, and Reverend Robes of Air.
He Orgal's Looks and Presence did assume
Ent'ring with Pontificial Port the Room.
Then thus the Prince of Hell the Priest addrest.
Palmida from the Regions of the Blest,
From Gods, and God-like Heros I descend
To show the way Lutetia to defend.
With generous, open Arms you Hope in vain
King Arthur's Strength, and Courage to sustain.
No Gallic Chiefs such mighty Arms can weild,
None such a Sword, or such a spacious Shield.
This day his Arms with Spoils and Heaps of Dead
Have all thy bloody Fields, Lutetia, spread.
Arbel in whom you chiefly did confide,
By Arthur's Weapon much lamented dy'd.
The Gallic Troops to Conquest long inur'd
Are now dismaid, and dread the Briton's Sword.
He will advance Lutetia to assail,
Will her strong Towers, and lofty Bulwarks scale.
And shall, Lutetia, be the Conqueror's Prey?
Shall Gallia's Princes British Lords obey?
Shall all our Sacred Priests, and all our Gods
Chas'd from their Temples leave their rich abodes?
Shall their high Groves by Christians be prophan'd,
Their Shrines defil'd by an unhallow'd hand?

290

Shall our high Domes with wealthy Gifts adorn'd
Be all to Heaps of mingl'd Ruins turn'd?
Shall scoffing Christians spurn with impious Feet
Our scatter'd Images thro' every Street?
Shall Holy Fragments, Limbs, defac'd Remains,
And Trunks of Gods dismember'd spred the Plains?
Her Yoke on Gallia's Neck shall Albion lay,
And make the Mistress of the World obey?
Must Gallia's Youth of Empire long possest
Be led in Triumph, be with Chains opprest?
Must her great Chiefs and Princes be destroy'd,
Or in base tasks, as Captives, be employ'd?
With Ignominious Labour forc'd to groan
While drawing Water, Hewing Wood and Stone?
Shall these sweet Rivers, this delicious Soil
Enrich the pamper'd Briton with their Spoil?
Must Gallia's Sons their Fields and Vineyards dress,
And their rich Wine for a proud Stranger press?
Yet this must be, this is the dismal Fate
Which now impends o'er high Lutetia's State,
If from amidst her Sons she can't select
Some, who her Power and Greatness to protect,
Dare strike one noble Stroke, one Effort make
With secret Arms King Arthur to Attack.
Remove the British King at any rate,
One single Blow secures the Gallic state.
Such Deeds our Order always did commend,
This Maxim we as Sacred still defend,
That Means are hallow'd by their Pious End.

291

This only Means within your Power remains
To save Lutetia from Inglorious Chains.
Go then, Palmida, and the King prepare
To make on Arthur's Person Secret War.
But time to gain, and Arthur to amuse,
First by an Ambassy demand a Truce:
If he agrees that Arms a while shall cease,
Commence a Treaty to concert a Peace.
Do you, with what the Briton offers, close,
Nor any Terms, tho' most unjust, oppose.
If this be manag'd right, and by Degrees
You all things yield that will the Briton please;
You will have time to form the great Design
And dress the Snare, which Arthur can't decline.
Then may the Ponyard in a valiant hand
From hostile Arms set free the Gallic Land.
No other Means you can securely trust,
What's Necessary is with Statesmen just.
Some may perhaps against the Deed declaim,
But all to save a State would do the same.
This said, the Prince of Hell without delay
Dissolv'd his Airy Form and flew away.
Palmida hence reviving Hopes conceiv'd,
And by the Counsel Orgal gave, believ'd
There ill affairs might be at last retriev'd.
The Barbarous Priest on his dire purpose bent
To find King Clotar, to his Palace went,
To whom the Priest the Project did impart
At which a Generous, Noble Mind would start.

292

Would be with Horror, and Amazement seiz'd,
And show how much the black Design displeas'd.
And yet without Reluctance he agreed
Without delay t'effect th'Atrocious Deed.
Palmida from the Gallic King withdrew,
The Bloody Undertaking to pursue.
Soon as Aurora with her dawning Ray
Began to smile, and propagate the Day.
Clotar five Lords to Albion's Monarch sent,
Who to obey their King's Instructions went.
They with attending Heralds took their way
To the high Camp where Arthur's Forces lay;
There they arriv'd, while he in Songs of Praise
And fervent Prayer did with his Captains raise
Th'Almighty's Power, and Providential Care
To which he ow'd his Laurels won in War.
The Solemn Worship ended, Arthur Sate
Within his Tent in his rich Chair of State;
The Franks advanc'd their Message to relate.

Then Orobac their Chief first silence broke,
And bowing low, the Monarch thus bespoke.
Clotar, great Prince, to put a happy end
To this destructive War do's condescend
To ask a Treaty may Commence for Peace,
Mean time that Arms on either Side may cease.
Blood to prevent our Monarch will withstand
No Terms which Arthur justly can demand.

293

You oft declare, that 'tis not War and Blood
Which you pursue, but Peace and Publick Good.
You would poor Captives from, their Chains release,
And give afflicted Kingdoms Rest, and Ease.
You publish, that your Arms you hither brought,
These glorious Ends in Gallia to promote.
These Ends King Arthur quickly may enjoy,
And need no longer Force and Arms employ.
All publick Grievances shall be redrest,
Nor shall the Christians longer be Opprest.

He said. The British Monarch thus reply'd;
I yield that Arms shall cease on either side:
And to the Treaty which you ask, consent,
Th'Effects of hostile Fury to prevent.
I would to all in Suff'rings, Pity show,
I would remove, but not encrease their Woe.
My thoughts to Clotar's Throne did ne'er aspire,
His injur'd Subjects Freedom I desire.
Let him his Empire undisturb'd enjoy,
But let him not his Arms, and Snares employ,
His Subjects, and his Neighbours to destroy.
Let all the Towns and Castles be restor'd,
Which he has forc'd unjustly by the Sword
From weaker Neighbours, to their Rightful Lord.
Let him his Christian Fugitives recall,
To all the Rights they once possest in Gaul.
And let him place for Caution in their hand,
The Towns and Forts they did before Command.
Let him the Gallic Liberty restore,
And vest the Senate in its ancient Power.

294

This done, the Britons shall repass the Seas,
And give this Kingdom Liberty and Peace.
For six days space I will my Arms suspend,
Your Prince's final Answer to attend.
He said; And rose from his high Chair of State:
The Franks return'd his Answer to relate.

Mean time Palmida labour'd to engage
Fit Instruments to execute his Rage.
Nor was it long before the Men were found,
For Clotar's Guards with Murd'rers did abound.
Men who his Barb'rous Orders understood,
Stedfast in Guilt, and long inur'd to Blood:
Men who distinguish'd Cruelty had shown,
Men with Inhumane Tasks Familiar grown;
Ready to act the most Unnatural Deed,
From all Remorse, and all Reluctance freed.
Yet these th'Infernal Enterprise declin'd,
Until their Order was by Clotar sign'd.
Palmida left the Russians to project,
And fix the Means, their Purpose to effect.
These various Ways and Methods did debate,
How Arthur to Assault to Save their State.
Some Poison, some the Ponyard did suggest,
As what would gain their Bloody Purpose best.
Some warmly pleaded for an Ambuscade,
Whence issuing out they might the King invade.
Some gave Advice, that with a vast Reward,
They should attempt to gain King Arthur's Guard.

295

Others of different Judgments did contend
That all, themselves Deserters should pretend,
That in the Camp they might a Season watch
In which the bloody Task they might dispatch.
These Ways rejected, 'twas at last agreed,
They would accomplish their Atrocious Deed,
When both the Monarchs from their Camps should go
To Ratify the Peace with Solemn Vow.
Then some as Heralds drest, and some as Priests,
Should wait on Clotar to the Publick Lists;
And all short Swords and Ponyards should prepare,
And hide beneath their Robes the Barb'rous War.
And while King Arthur did his God invoke
To bind the Treaty, they should strike the Stroke.
The Franks mean time who did the Peace promote,
Had their Transaction to an Issue brought.
All things the Briton ask'd the Franks agreed
That from his Arms Lutetia might be freed.
The Term which Clotar's Orators desir'd
For Arms to be suspended was expir'd,
When a sixt Day the Monarchs did propose,
Wherein with sacred Rites, and Solemn Vows
They would themselves to strict observance bind
Of all things promis'd in the Treaty sign'd.
And now the Night approach'd which did precede
The Day appointed for the bloody Deed.
When Derodan who by his King's Command,
Before the Battel with a chosen Band

296

T'attack a British Convoy was detach'd,
His Expedition with Success dispatch'd;
Return'd, and with his Men rejoyn'd the Host,
Griev'd, and enrag'd to find the Battel lost.
He for his Stature, and his Strength was known,
And for his Courage oft in Combate shown.
None for the Gallic Int'rest did reveal
Or for the Pagan Altars warmer Zeal.
Palmida to the Valiant Man addrest,
And with the Language of a Crafty Priest,
His Rage against King Arthur did Excite,
And show'd it vain to meet his Arms in Fight.
Then by degrees Palmida did relate
How to compose the War, and save the State,
A brave Design was by a Party laid
With secret Arms King Arthur to invade.
The Reverend Russian then the Soldier prest
T'embark in this Design and lead the rest;
And promis'd for Reward he should not miss
Promotion here, hereafter Endless Bliss.
The generous Captain tho' amaz'd to hear
Such words from one of Holy Character,
Yet seemingly consented, and supprest
The generous Indignation in his Breast.
The Priest retir'd, and valiant Derodan
With horror seiz'd, thus to himself began.
In what dire Crimes will Sacerdotal Rage,
And eager Bigotry Mankind engage?

297

Shall I this desperate, black Design pursue,
And in a Monarch's Blood these hands embrue?
Hands that did ne'er Clandestine weapons Sway
Ne'er slew a Foe, but in a generous way:
That none but in the Field have e'er destroy'd,
Shall they in Murthering Princes be employ'd?
If so, what Vengeful Plagues must I expect?
Against this Head what Bolts will Heav'n direct?
To various Gods I offer up my Vows,
But Murther none of all those Gods allows.
Let Pontificial Biggots still contend
That we our State, and Altars to defend,
May any way, and any Weapon chuse,
May hallow'd Poyson, or Stilletto's use.
That we the Christians progress to arrest
May leave the Ponyard in their Monarchs Breast.
Such Priests, and such dire Maxims I abhor
Nor would the Gods pleas'd with such Deeds adore.
Th'Immortal Powers I always understood
Were Merciful, Beneficent, and Good;
Swift to relieve our wants, to punish slow,
Who perfect Justice in their Empire show.
Such Cruelty, and Treacherous Violence
Those pure and Righteous Beings must incense.
I'll for our Altars, and my Country weild
All honourable Arms in open Field.
To save this Realm undaunted I'll oppose
The greatest Dangers, and the Fiercest Foes:
But I detest this Ignominious Deed
No Prince by me Perfidiously shall bleed.

298

Then Uriel Heav'ns high Order to obey,
Did his Immortal Wings on high display,
And from th'Empyreal Turrets down the Sky
To valiant Derodan did swiftly fly.
The Radiant Envoy quickly did prepare
A youthful Shape, mild Eyes and Cheeks of Air.
Then did he Silence break, and thus began,
You bravely have exprest, undaunted Man,
Your just Abhorrence of the black Design
In which a Band of barb'rous Franks combine.
But from the Heav'nly Regions I descend
To let you know that here you must not end.
You must the dire Confed'racy disclose
To save the Monarch from Clandestine Foes.
If Arthur's blood is by the Russians spilt
By not preventing it, you share the Guilt.
Heav'n has by valiant Derodan decreed,
To disappoint the black, Inhumane Deed.
Go then and let that Prince his Danger know,
Let him his Safety to thy Vertue owe.
That said, the Cherub from the place withdrew,
And to the Seats of Peace and Pleasure flew.
The Starry Stranger gone, the Frank revolv'd
The Message in his Mind and soon resolv'd
To pay obedience; then with eager Zeal
He went th'Important Secret to reveal.
Conducted by the Stars uncertain Light
He at the Briton's Camp arriv'd by Night.
The watchful Out-guards who oppos'd his way
To the great Arthur did the Frank convey.

299

Admitted to his Presence Derodan,
First low Obeisance made, and then began.
Hither I come great Monarch to detect
A black Design that do's your Life respect.
A bloody Band with Hellish fury fir'd,
Against your Royal Person have conspir'd.
I Gallia's Gods and Goddesses adore,
And with th'advancement of Lutetia's power:
But can't believe that for Religion's sake,
I with the Ponyard may a Prince attack.
Th'Immortal Powers to serve Religion's Cause
Ne'er gave Command to break thro' Nature's Laws.
Perfidious Outrage, Murther, Violence,
Tho' us'd to serve the Gods, the Gods incense.
When therefore by Palmida prest to joyn
With bloody Men engag'd in this Design,
My Soul the barb'rous motion did detest,
And various Passions strove within my Breast.
While with my thoughts Opprest, a glorious God
Descended to me from his high abode.
He seem'd Apollo by his Beamy Face,
His blooming Beauty, and his Youthful Grace.
Then did the bright Divinity direct,
That hasting to your Camp I should detect
The horrid Plot against your Life design'd,
And now I must perform the task enjoyn'd.
Then did the valiant Frank the King instruct
Who were the Chiefs, that did th'Affair conduct.

300

And where, and how, and when they had agreed
To wreek their Malice by th'inhumane Deed.
Then said, do you, great Prince, due Caution take,
And for their hidden Arms enquiry make.
I, that my Message may Belief obtain,
Will under Guard within your Camp remain;
That if my Words are false your Vengeful hand
May Death inflict, such as my Crimes demand.
The pious Arthur prais'd the generous Zeal
Which mov'd the Frank this Treach'ry to reveal.
And gave Command he should Rewards receive
Such as great Kings do to great Merit give;
If the Succeeding Morn should clearly shew
The Plot discover'd by the Frank, was true.
Now had the Sun disclos'd the Mountains heads,
And pour'd warm glory on the reeking Meads.
Clotar arose, and soon with Eager speed
Came mounted on his Mauritanian Steed,
Attended with th'Assassins some as Priests,
Some habited as Heralds to the Lists.
Ensigns of Peace and Piety they bore,
But treach'rous Arms beneath their Vestments wore.
The Armys on the Plain drawn in Array
On either Side did at a distance stay.
Except the Troops who with their Shields reclin'd
And Spears erect the Palisado's lin'd.
Next Albion's King advanc'd with God-like Grace
Born on a Courser of Eborac Race.

301

The Franks with Wonder and with Fear behold
His Martial Port, and Arms adorn'd with Gold.
All by their Looks their inward Joy declare
That now he came for Peace, and not for War.
The Terror of Lutetia brightly shone
In Armour clad, so well in Battel known.
Advancing near to Clotar thus he cry'd,
Have I in vain on Clotar's Vows rely'd?
'Tis hard, to think a Monarch should agree
T'Assault my Life by Barb'rous Treachery.
That with Assassins Clotar should combine,
Approve, Abet, and Aid their black Design.
This on a Prince so great a Stain would prove,
As Rivers cannot cleanse, or Time remove.
Yet, valiant Franks, and faithful Britons, know
That one who seems a brave and generous Foe,
Has unconstrain'd, unsought, unask'd, declar'd
That Clotar has Perfidious Arms prepar'd.
That these who Heralds and as Priests appear,
Beneath their Robes short Swords and Ponyards wear.
That these are Veteran Russians in disguise,
Intending to Assault me by Surprise
When I dismount, and to the Altar go,
To Ratify the Peace by solemn Vow.
I doubtful, neither wholly disbelieve
The Charge, nor to it wholly Credit give.
But if unjust these Accusations are,
Then let the Search their Innocence declare.
But if their Guilt will not the Search abide,
The Charge is then too plain to be deny'd.

302

He said. King Clotar all enrag'd to find,
That Arthur knew the Treachery design'd,
Exclaiming loud, to Franks and Britons cry'd,
To break the Treaty what mean Arts are try'd?
What wild Suggestions, what vile Shifts are these,
Which Arthur uses to retard the Peace?
And do's the Briton thus his Faith betray,
Yet by malicious Accusations lay
On us the Guilt, 'tis plain his hostile Mind
Is not to Peace, but to the Sword inclin'd.
Since Arthur still on Blood and Slaughter bent,
Eludes the Treaty, I to Arms consent.
The Guilt he has suggested I abhor,
No Prince to purge himself should offer more.
He said, and drawing off his Treacherous Band,
Rejoyn'd his Army, which at his Command
Did with Precipitation leave the Plain,
Lutetia's Bulwarks and strong Walls to gain.
To line the Ramparts some Battalions flew,
The rest themselves within Lutetia threw,
Resolv'd the mighty City to defend,
On which the fate of Gallia did depend.
Mean time King Arthur did his Army head,
And to th'Attack the eager Britons led.
The Gallic Lords Lutetia's Works to Guard,
Against th'Invader all things had prepar'd.

303

Bofour as chief did in the Lines Command,
The Gallic King within the Town remain'd.
The British Youth advancing in Array
Their Ensigns o'er the Neighb'ring Fields display.
From their high Towers the Franks observe from far
The rising Storm, and rolling Tyde of War.
Before his Troops the mighty Briton rode
Glorious in Arms, like some Terrestrial God.
As when Britannia's Trading Fleets, that run
For Indian Treasures to the rising Sun,
Beneath the Equinoctial Line have spy'd
A Spout ascending from the boiling Tyde,
Whose watry Obelisk do's threat'ning rise,
And thrusts his towring head amidst the Skies
The Sailors pale with Consternation, dread
Th'impending Tempest gathering o'er their head
With no less Terror did the trembling Gauls,
See Albion's King advancing to their Walls.
Then Cutar with his Monarch did prevail,
That he might first Lutetia's Works Assail.
Onwards he march'd with a select Brigade,
Th'advanc'd Redoubts with Vigour to invade.
The Chief on Fame and Martial Glory bent,
To Storm the lofty Works with pleasure went.
He strove to be the foremost in the Fight,
For Danger was his Favorite Delight.
His Ardor, cheatful Looks, and Martial Fire,
Did all his Troops with double Life inspire.

304

As when a Dolphin sports upon the Tyde,
Displays his Beauty, and his Scaly I ride
His various colour'd Arch adorns the Flood,
Like a bright Rain-bow in a watry Cloud:
He from the Billows leaps with gamesome strife,
Wanton with Vigour and Immoderate Life.
With so much Spirit swelling all his Veins,
The sprightly Briton sled along the Plains.
With more Delight he went to Charge the Foe,
Than eager Bridegrooms to their Nuptials go.
Approaching to the Works, the Warriour threw
His glitt'ring Dart, and great Orander slew:
Between the lower Ribs it pierc'd his Side,
And did the Midriff, as it pass'd, divide.
The Frank a while with labour drew his Breath,
Then fell, and posted to the Shades beneath.
Before Lutetia saw the British Arms,
Orander vanquish'd by Pulerina's Charms:
Long Woed, and won at last the beauteous Maid
By promis'd Nuptials, but his Faith betray'd:
To shun th'entreatys of the injur'd Fair,
The Faithless Youth did to the Camp repair.
But when she found her Prayers and Tears deny'd,
Enrag'd Pulerina thus despairing cry'd:
And can Orander thus unconstant prove,
Break all the Bonds of Vows, and those of Love?
Is he regardless of my Beauty grown?
Will he expose my Honour, and his own?

305

Will the wild Savage no Compassion show?
Will he forsake Pulerina? will he go,
And leave me thus o'erwhelm'd with Shame and Woe?
Go, Perjur'd Wretch, but midst the sighting Throng,
May some insulting Foe revenge my Wrong.
May some just God direct his glitt'ring Dart,
And guide the point to thy Perfidious Heart:
Then think of me, and rack'd with Torment ly,
In pangs of Guilt, and Throws of Horror dy.
The fatal Curses flew around his Head,
And Cutar's Dart aveng'd the injur'd Maid.
With like Success his second Dart he threw,
Which swiftly past, and strong Orellan slew.
It thro' his Windpipe and his Gullet made
Its fatal way, and in his Neckbone stay'd.
His Elder Brother Colon he destroy'd
By secret Poison, and his Lands enjoy'd.
Old Meda famous for her Art prepar'd
The deadly Draught, and had a great Reward.
He now by Cutar's Arms of Life bereft
Fell, and his Wealth and great Possessions left.
Next Boser sprung from Solon's noble Blood
In splendid Armour on the Rampart stood.
His Stature graceful, Courtly was his Air,
And costly Oyls perfum'd his Limbs and Hair.
He by the Dames was with Applauses crown'd,
Of all the Dancing Nation most renown'd.
He came, as if he did expect to fall
Embalm'd before-hand for his Funeral

306

When Cutar saw him on the Works appear,
With great Disdain he threw his massy Spear.
Which thro' his Coat of Mail and Crimson Vest
His Bosom pierc'd, and lodg'd within his Breast.
The fragrant Warriour felt the fatal Wound,
Fell on the Rampart, and perfum'd the Ground.
Next on the Bulwark Zolon did advance,
Tho' void of Worth, of wondrous Arrogance.
Deform'd alike in Body and in Mind,
And more to scare, then Charge a Foe design'd.
His livid Eyes retreating from the Day
Deep in their hollow Orbits buried lay.
His Back-bone standing out, drew in his Breast,
This Shoulder elevated, that Deprest,
And his soul Chin his odious Bosom prest.
Long little Legs, such has the stalking Crane,
His short ill figur'd Body did sustain.
Still Mutinys he in the Army rais'd,
Bursting with Spleen to hear another prais'd.
Meager with Malice, with Ill nature worn,
And with th'envenom'd teeth of Envy torn
To vent his Spite he labour'd to defame
The Chiefs, whose Valour had advanc'd their Name.
His pois'nous Tongue did all great Heros wound,
Reviling those whom all with Honour crown'd.
Some envious Men his Calumnys approv'd,
And all who Merit hated, Zolon lov'd.
Cutar with Indignation at him cast
His mighty Spear, which thro' his Body past.

307

Down Zolon fell, and tortur'd with his Wound
In Rage and Anguish beat, and bit the Ground.
Now Cutar mounts the Works with Sword in hand
And that his Troops should follow gave Command.
The fearless Men the lofty Works ascend
Which with projected Arms the Foes defend.
Britons and Franks prodigious Courage show,
And crimson Rivers down the Bulwarks flow.
Arms meet with Arms, Fauchions with Fauchions clash,
And sparks of Fire struck out from Armour flash.
Thick clouds of Dust contending Warriours raise,
And hideous War o'er all the Region brays.
Tempests of Darts and showers of Arrows sing,
And all the Heav'ns with dreadful Clamour ring.
Mean time great Stannel with his valiant Band
Attacked the Works where Bofar did Command.
Nor Clouds of flying Darts, nor storms of Fire
Could force the Valiant Leader to retire.
Midst showers of Stones which fell like Summers Hail,
Th'undaunted Hero did the Foe Assail.
Mounting the Bulwark's brow, he forward prest,
And quickly with the Foe came Breast to Breast.
Here the brave Man Immortal Deeds perform'd,
And with resistless force the high Entrenchment storm'd.
First Baradan his fatal Weapon felt,
Who on the Banks of fair Matrona dwelt:
The mighty Fauchion passing thro' the Side
With its sharp edge the Liver did divide:

308

The blood gush'd out from the large hollow Vein
And mixt with Choler did the ground distain.
Then Ostacar a Bellovasian Lord
High lifted in the Air his flaming Sword.
Against the Foe he meant a mortal stroke,
But on his Shield th'unfaithful Weapon broke.
While for another Sword aloud he cry'd,
The Briton's Fauchion did his Throat divide.
The gasping Wound pour'd forth a Crimson flood,
Down fell the Warriour Strangled in his Blood.
The Conquerour next Stellander did attack,
And drove his mighty Spear thro' Breast and Back:
For Astrologic Science he was fam'd,
By all that lov'd the Art with honour nam'd.
He oft Collected from the Conscious Stars
The Fall of Empires, and th'Event of Wars.
He could predict a rising Fav'rite's Fate,
The Death of Kings, and mighty Turns of State.
To him the Heav'nly Orbs had often shown
The fate of others, but conceal'd his own.
Nor Arms nor Science could his Life protect
Against the Spear the Briton did direct.
Then Soron, Harim, and Germander dy'd
By Stannel's Arms, all three in Blood ally'd.
Thirsty of Glory and of Martial Fame
These from the Verdant Vale together came,
Where ling'ring Liger draws along the Plain
Thro' flowry Labyrinths his Silver train.
Next in his tortur'd Bowels Drapar felt
The Conquerour's Spear beneath his shining Belt.

309

The fainting Warriour fell, but from his Wound
His Entrails gushing out first reach'd the ground.
By this time Erla, at a third Attack
Had Storm'd the Works, and chas'd the Squadrons back.
He on the Foe with so much Fury prest,
That soon their high Entrenchments he possest.
With mighty Slaughter he pursu'd the Gauls,
Who fled to save themselves within their Walls.
When Valiant Ansel saw his Friends retreat,
He made a Sally from the Eastern Gate,
And cry'd aloud, What means this shameful Flight?
Assert your Honour, and renew the Fight.
Hear from the Walls your Wives and Children cry,
Whither will these inglorious Cowards fly?
Will they expose us to th'invading Foe,
To all the Rage insulting Conquerours show?
Must we endure the haughty Briton's scorn,
And his proud Triumphs led in Chains adorn?
Where are the Heros, where the Valiant Franks,
Who on th'astonish'd Rhine, and Mosa's Banks
By Martial Deeds acquir'd Immortal Fame,
And laden home with Spoils and Laurels came;
Who from the Field in Triumph still return'd,
And with their Trophys our high Domes adorn'd.
Do you your selves the Progeny pretend
Of these great Men, who did so well defend
Their Country, and so far their Power extend.
Ye Valiant Chiefs, so oft with Conquest crown'd,
Ye mighty Shades, who did our Empire found,

310

How will you all Despise, Disdain, Disown
Your Sons, so feeble, so degenerate grown?
Prevent, O Franks, their Grief, prevent your Shame,
You fight not now for Empire, and for Fame,
But for your Being, for your Gods, and all
Which you can either Dear, or Sacred call.
Advance then, Franks, your ancient Courage show,
I'll lead your Squadrons on to Charge the Foe.
He said, and burning with a Martial Rage,
The Chief march'd on th'Invaders to engage.
The Franks turn'd back, inspir'd by Ansel's words,
And once more brandish'd their Refulgent Swords.
Then in a noble Fight their Strength they tr'd,
And many Heros fell on either side.
Losel, Alduran; Streban, Otho slew,
And Graman's Javelin pierc'd Athleta thro'.
Orsaber's Spear pierc'd great Elmondo's Side,
Barnel by Humbert's Arms, and Ontar dy'd.
Then Valiant Erla, Loran did Attack,
The Spear transfixt his Stomach and his Back.
From the Vogesian Mountains Loran came,
To signalize his Arms, and raise his Fame:
His wealthy Father late of Life berest,
Had to his Son four noble Mannors left.
His Mother lab'ring with Prophetic Fears,
With unsuccessful Prayers, and fruitless Tears,
Ev'n on her Knees long strove to overcome
His Martial Zeal, and keep the Youth at home.

311

Now in his dying Throws too late he said,
Would I my Mother's Counsel had obey'd.
Then Valiant Cubal, Arpan did invade,
But on his temper'd Buckler broke his Blade.
Cubal who midst the wresting Rings had won
In great Augusta's Squares so much Renown,
Ran in, and with an unexpected War
Made Arpan's Heels fly up amidst the Air.
Flat on his Back the Warriour prest the Sand,
Strait the Victorious Briton from his hand
Did with main Force the flaming Fauchion wrest
Then plung'd the Weapon deep into his Breast.

Vebba with Martial Rage, on Carlot prest,
And with his Back-Sword hop'd to cleave his Crest.
The Warriour's Head the erring Weapon mist,
But cut the Veins and Sinews of his Wrist.
The Frank unable more his Arms to weild,
Dropt on the ground his Sword and mighty Shield.

First, in his wounded Veins did Strabor feel
The fatal Edge of Ansel's glitt'ring Steel.
Deep in his Sides between his Ribs it sunk,
And cut in two the large Arterial Trunk,
Thro' which the Heart throws up the Vital Flood,
The Briton fell, and delug'd lay in Blood.

Then Heban, who had left fair Deva's Banks,
To make this great Campaign against the Franks,
Who Gallic Power, and Gallic Faith abhorr'd,
Dy'd near Lutetia's Walls by Ansel's Sword.

312

His Fauchion next thro' Rello's Helmet broke,
And cut in sunder with the furious stroke
His Hairy Scalp, which hung below the Ear,
And left the Skull in ghastly manner bare.
Lack to his Tent the wounded Hero came,
Where great Bernardo of Immortal Fame
For his Chirurgic Skill, gave quick Relief,
Stitcht up the gaping Lips, and heal'd the wounded Chief.

Toson, a noble, valiant, wondrous Boy,
His Father's Pride, and his fond Mother's Joy,
Who ne'er till now had grip'd a Shield or Lance,
To Charge the Frank, undaunted did advance.
The Frank despis'd him, and exclaiming cry'd,
I'll soon chastise your Arrogance and Pride;
Ambitious Youth, too soon the Field you take,
And for the Camp too soon the School forsake.
You should at home have with your Sisters play'd,
And her great Comfort with your Mother stay'd.
Heav'ns! that a Boy should Gallic Chiefs provoke,
Toson while thus th'insulting Warriour spoke,
Aim'd at his shining Helm a noble Stroke.
The prosperous Weapon thro' the Buckler past,
And Ansel's Arm beneath the Shoulder raz'd.
From the divided Veins the Blood flew out,
The Britons gave a loud applauding Shout.
The Frank enrag'd, attack'd the Beardless Foe,
Threatning to take his Head off at a Blow.
Thro' the Youth's Shield the Fauchion passage found,
Inflicting on his Neck a painful Wound.

313

The Britons strait rush'd in to give him Aid,
And to the Rear th'advent'rous Youth Convey'd.
Ansel retir'd, and Interposing Night
Parted the Warriours, and broke off the Fight.
The Britons kept the Outworks, and the Gauls
Retreating sav'd themselves within their Walls.

315

BOOK XII.

Mean time the Gallic Monarch sore distrest;
With dreadful Thoughts and anxious Cares opprest
Sought rest in vain upon his downy Bed,
With Tyrian Purple and fine Linnen spred.
From side to side he did in Torment roll,
But turn'd in vain to Ease his restless Soul.
Short were his Slumbers, often would he start,
And wildly stare, while with her painful Dart,
Insulting Conscience stab'd him to the heart.
Ten thousand Horrours did his thoughts affright,
And ghastly Figures pass'd before his sight.
Distracting Agonys and wild Despair,
Did from their roots his guilty Heart-strings tear.
Sometimes he thought he heard the dismal cry
Of suff'ring Prisoners begging leave to dy.
He saw extended Martyrs on the Rack,
And thought he heard their tortur'd Members crack,
He saw poor Widdows delug'd in their tears,
And Crys of helpless Orphans fill'd his Ears:
Widdows and Orphans which the Russian's hand,
Had thro' all Gallia made at his command.
The Ghosts of those he murther'd fill'd the place,
And threatning stood, and star'd him in the Face.

316

Around his Bed dire Apparitions walk'd,
And Stygian Terrours thro' the Apartment stalk'd.
Then starting up and leaping from his Bed,
Thus to himself the restless Monarch said.
What Tragic Scenes before my eyes appear,
What inward Whips my tortur'd Bowels tear?
Fierce Vipers twist their Spires about my Heart,
And Bite, and Sting, and Wound with deadly smart.
With more than Atlas weight my Soul's opprest,
And raging Tempests beat along my breast:
Corroding Flames eat thro' my burning veins,
And all within I feel Infernal Pains.
As oft as Arthur has my Troops assail'd,
His Arms by Heav'n assisted have prevail'd.
The Victor of our Out-works is possest,
He next Lutetia from our hands will wrest
Must Gallia's Empire fall by Arthur's Sword,
And Clotar's house obey a British Lord?
Must Tributary Gallia be condemn'd
To serve a Prince which I so much contemn'd?
Forbid it all ye Gods, that such a Fate
Should e'er befall the high Lutetian State.
If Heav'n will not assist, I'll try if Hell,
Will from these Gates the British King repel.

He said. And on his impious Purpose bent,
Attended only with Palmida went,
To find the fam'd Enchantress Maneton,
His Dignity conceal'd, his Name unknown.

317

When they had found her, to the Sorceress,
Thus did the Gallic King himself express.
Wisest of Women, whose controuling sway,
The dark Dominions of the Dead obey:
Whose Charms can all the Nations move that dwell,
Thro' all the spacious Continent of Hell.
Who can departed Men restore to Light,
From the low Shades and dark Abyss of Night.
At your Command th'awaken'd Dead will rend
Their Tombs, and thro' the cleaving Ground ascend.
We may, if you with potent words are pleas'd
To bring them up, converse with Friends deceas'd.
Now mighty Woman, I your Aid implore,
You'll find me grateful, pray exert your Power.
Your Force let all th'Infernal Regions know,
And bring back hither from the Shades below
A faithful Friend, whose presence I desire,
Whose wise Advice, my pressing Wants require.

Then did th'Enchantress bid him name his Friend,
Whom he desir'd should from beneath ascend.
Bellcoran is the Man, the King reply'd,
Who did the Gallic Arms and Councils guide.
Then did th'Enchantress with accustom'd care,
Her noxious Herbs and Magic Drugs prepare.
She fetch'd white Poppys, Henbane, Aconite,
Bald Toad-stools, Savine Tops, all which by Night,
The wandring Sorceress was us'd to cull
In neighb'ring Mountains, when the Moon was Full.

318

All these she stampt, with more of Magic use,
And from the Mass prest out the potent Juice.
The green Enchantment in a Caldron flow'd,
To which she pour'd a Bowl of humane blood.
Then did the Sorc'ress in the Center stand,
And drew dire Circles with her Magic Wand:
She mutter'd with her Voice mysterious sounds,
And terms with which the Hellish Art abounds.

Nature molested, felt the powerful Charm,
And various Terrors did the World alarm.
The starting Planets from their Orbits flew,
The lab'ring Moon sick and uneasie grew,
And far from sight the wandring Stars withdrew.
Hoarse Thunder murmur'd with a hollow sound,
And heaving Tempests bellow'd under ground.
Contending Elements with horrid Fight,
Did vex the Air, and guilty Minds affright.
Clouds, Hurricanes, and Lightnings did conspire,
To pour down Floods of Rain, and Floods of Fire.
Dun, Dusky Demons troubled all the Air,
And Ghosts were heard to groan in deep Despair.
Around the house, tremendous to behold,
Vast Dragons flew, prodigious Serpents rowl'd,
And treble-headed Hell-hounds yell'd and howl'd.
The Pavement trembled, and the Dwelling shook,
And thro' the King a shiv'ring Horrour struck.
Then did th'Enchantress to the Monarch cry,
I from beneath a God ascending Spy.

319

Speak, said the King, what Aspect do's he wear,
And tell the Form in which he do's appear.
The Sorc'ress cry'd, he is in Armour clad,
His Mien is Martial, but his Eyes are sad.
Thro' th'opening Ground he do's Reluctant come,
Behold, he now appears within the Room.

Bellcoran then the Monarch thus bespoke;
Why do's King Clotar Magic Aids invoke?
Why have you thus compell'd me to arise,
And brought me back to these unwelcom Skies?
The King reply'd: With heavy Cares opprest,
I'm forc'd Bellcoran to disturb thy Rest.
When thou wert here, Success I always found,
And triumph'd o'er the vanquish'd Realms around.
Thou both my Champion and my wisest Friend,
Didst guide my Councils, and my Throne defend.
Thy Arms the Gallic Greatness did support,
And made Submissive States my Friendship court.
Since thy departure Gallia's Empire shakes,
The mighty Fabrick unsupported, cracks.
Before Lutetia's Gates the Britons ly,
Before their Arms our trembling Cohorts fly.
They by Assault have our high Bulwarks won,
And now lie ready to invade the Town.
With such resistless Fury they Attack,
In vain the Franks contend to drive them back.
So black a Storm o'er Gallia's Realm impends,
So sad a Fate, Lutetia, thee attends!

320

And must King Arthur with a Victor's Pride,
Thro' high Lutetia's Streets in Triumph ride?
Must great Lutetia from her Empire fall,
And Foreign Lords insult the Captive Gaul?
And shall the proud Oppressors mock our Crys,
And whom they fear'd and envy'd, now despise?
Shall British Masters to enrich their Isle,
Freight their proud Navys with Lutetia's Spoil?
O Gallia, this! this is thy heavy doom!
Unless some unexpected Succours come.
In these extream Affairs, thus sore distrest,
In such a strait, and with such danger prest,
I am constrain'd to call thee from thy Rest.
My Prayers are fruitless to the Gods, in vain
I've Rams and Bullocks at their Altars slain.
The Gods are Deaf, their Oracles are Dumb,
No Powers invok'd to our Assistance come.
Of Heav'n forsaken, whither shall I go?
The Gods have all deserted to the Foe.
In this Distress, Bellcoran, Counsel give,
What means can Gallia's sinking State retrieve?
By what sure Methods may the Gods be brought,
To fight for Gallia, who for Gallia fought?

He ceas'd: And thus Bellcoran did reply,
In vain, O Prince, to Magic Arts you fly,
To gain those Succours which the Gods deny.
In vain your Charms the Courts of Death invade,
Hell cannot give, if Heav'n refuses Aid.

321

Their Presence if Celestial Gods deny,
No friendly Helps their absence can supply.
Since Heav'n forsakes you, no Infernal Power,
No Humane Force your Empire can secure.
No means are left to prop your sinking State,
Your Doom's decreed by never changing Fate.
Lutetia's Crimes which righteous Heav'n provoke,
Bow down her neck beneath the British Yoke.
Your Cruelty, O King, and thirst of Blood,
Your Persecution of the Just and Good,
Your Pride, Ambition, Breach of Solemn Vows
Are more destructive than your Foreign Foes.
These strong Domestic Enemys betray,
Lutetia's Empire to the British sway.
These furious War with Gallia's Monarch wage,
And angry Heav'n against your Arms engage.
Who can a Realm from Wrath Divine protect,
And save a Monarch whom the Gods reject?
Plainly I speak, the Dead will flatter none,
From thee the Kingdom's rent, the Scepter gone,
And Pious Clovis shall ascend thy Throne.
By Arthur rais'd, he Gallia shall command,
And Rule with just and equal Laws her Land.
Thus Heav'n Decrees thy Punishment at last,
This is thy Fate irrevocably past.
No more, O King, shall I arise to thee,
But thou to morrow shalt descend to me.

He said. And from the Apartment did retreat,
And thro' the Ground sunk to his Stygian feat.

322

The King, as if with Thunder struck, fell down,
And Breathless lay extended in a Swoon.
The Sorceress to whom the King appear'd
Greatly disturb'd and mov'd by what he heard,
Scream'd out, and fetch'd reviving Essences,
Rich Spirits, Od'rous Balsams, and with these
She rub'd his Nostrils, Temples, and his Neck,
Till he awaken'd, and began to speak.
Then Maneton the Monarch did constrain,
With Wine and Meat his Spirits to sustain.
That done the troubled King th'Enchantress left,
Of all his Hopes, and all support bereft.
He to his Palace came when dawning Day
Began to spring, and streak the Eastern way.
Wild was his Aspect, sad as Death his Air,
And on his Brows state Horrour, and Despair.
Distracted Gestures, and deep Sighs confest,
The inward pangs and torment of his Breast.
Conscience enrag'd a fiercer Ravager,
Than ravening Vultures, Did his Bowels tear.
Around his Veins envenom'd Adders clung,
And to the Heart the tortur'd Monarch stung.
Vengeance Divine upon his Soul was pour'd,
And unextinguish'd Flames his Life devour'd.
Now on the Bed his restless Limbs he threw,
Now started up, and round th'Apartment flew.
Oft in a threatning Posture did he stand,
And on his mighty Fauchion lay'd his hand.
Sometimes he Curs'd, Blasphem'd, and Rav'd aloud,
Then on a suddain, Mute and Stupid stood.

323

At last he gave in these expressions vent
To the sad Thoughts, that did his Soul torment.

The Kingdom from me rent! the Scepter gone!
And Pious Clovis shall ascend the Throne!
Prevent it all ye Powers; this cannot be:
Can Henav'n to such unrighteous Deeds agree?
Belcoran says it, he must be believ'd,
A heavy Doom, and ne'er to be retriev'd.
And has his God sav'd Clovis from my Hand,
That he might Gallia in my stead Command?
Curst be the Fatal Inauspicious Day,
Which to my Eyes did the first Light convey.
Curst be the luckless Hour in which I broke
My Infant Fetters, and the Womb forsook.
O think it not, Celestial Powers, a Crime,
To raze that Day from the Records of Time.
Let it for ever perish, cut the Link
That fastens it to Time, and let it sink.
Let this unhappy Day return no more,
But let the Year in passing leap it o'er.
Let it be sunk, let it for ever Sleep
Swallow'd and lost in vast Duration's Deep.
But if this Day in turn must be restor'd,
Let it for Clouds and Darkness be abhor'd.
Let not a glimpse of Light, no chearful Ray
Distinguish from the Night this dismal Day.
Let it by no good Omen be endear'd,
Let no reviving Sounds of Joy be heard.

324

Let Lamentations, Groans and dreadful Crys,
With their sad Accents fill the troubled Skys.
By marks of Horror let it still be known,
And prove unprosprous, till 'tis hateful grown;
Till Men this Day, as some great Judgment mourn
And Pray, and With it never may return.

Oh! Why did ne'er a blest Abortion blast
This Life, that must expire in Shame at last?
Why was not Clotar strangled in the Birth,
Why had my Mother Strength to bring me forth?
Why did not fatal Pangs and Labour Throws,
Destroy, and save me from these mighty Woes?
On Gallia's Throne must haughty Clovis sit?
Must she to take his Yoke her Neck submit?
Ye Powers why do's your Vengeance thus pursue
A Prince whose Guilt is Piety to you?
Push'd on by Zeal for Heav'n I first embru'd,
My reeking hands in Slaughter'd Christians Blood.
And is this wretched End the sad Reward,
Which you to Crown my Labours have prepar'd?
Against the Gods just is my discontent,
They either are Unjust, or Impotent;
Who leave me thus to an inglorious Fate,
And thus desert the Pious Gallic State.
Who will Devotion at their Altars pay?
Who will regard them, or their Priests obey?
Who on their Power and Favour will depend?
Who will their Groves and Shrines henceforth defend?

325

If they their Vot'ry thus desert at last,
Forget my Zeal, and pious Labours past?

Hereafter may the Franks revenge my Fate,
And to the Britons bear Immortal Hate.
May some great Man, or some great Woman rise,
T'assert Lutetia's Gods and Liberties.
Who may the Britons from this Region chase,
And leave no Footsteps of the impious Race.
That may the Honour of our Arms restore,
Rebuild our Altars, and regain our Power.
Franks, think it just all methods to employ,
To spoil Britannia, and her Sons destroy.
By Wiles, and Frauds, of Force, th'advantage take,
And only to betray them Friendship make.
May Britons still your specious Words believe,
May you as oft th'uncautious Foe deceive.
In Peace and War let them be equal Foes,
And let your Int'rest rule your Faith and Vows.
Still let your Arts the Easy Race beguile,
And when they blame you, at their Folly smile.
Whate'er they win by Courage in the Field,
Let them by Treaty back to Gallia yield.
Where Power, and all perfidious Measures fail,
Let Gallia's Women's stronger Arts prevail.
Let Albion's Youth yield to their powerful Charms,
Dissolve in Pleasures, and neglect their Arms.
Let these soft Conquerours teach them to obey,
Enslave their Princes, and their State betray.

326

Let our Men's Malice, and our Women's Love,
To Albion's Realm alike destructive prove.

This day before the Sun must Clotar set,
And in the Shades below Belcoran meet?
Must I my Empire and my Friends forsake,
Of Gallia my Eternal Farewel take?
But why do I thus idly vex the Air,
And vent in fruitless Accents my Despair?
Tho' my Complaints are just, yet 'tis in vain
To rave at Heav'n, and all the Gods arraign.
I am, 'tis true, by partial Powers opprest,
But how shall Heav'ns Injustice be redrest?
Complaining thus, fresh Sufferings I create,
But can't decline Irrevocable Fate.
While Life remains, 'tis better to employ
My utmost Power the Britons to destroy.
With Sword in Hand th'Invader I'll repel,
And at the dearest rate my Life will sell.
Since I must fall, let me incircled ly.
With heaps of slaughter'd Christians, when I dy.
Since I these Regions must forsake, I'll go
Attended well to the Cold Shades below.
As a tall Oak do's with a mighty Sound,
Bring with its fall the Forest to the ground;
So would I lie with Spoils encompass'd round.
Oh that my Arms could both the Poles embrace,
And wrest the World's strong Pillars from their Base,
That all the cracking Frame might be dis-joyn'd,
And bury in its Ruins Humane Kind.

327

Thus would I fall in Vengeance, as 'tis said
An injur'd Champion of the Hebrews did.

He said. And raging did his Arms demand,
Then brandishing his Fauchion in his hand,
Onward the Monarch went to Head the Gauls,
And led his Cohorts to defend the Walls.
Hopeless become he, therefore fearless grew,
And from Despair immoderate Courage drew.
He rav'd aloud, and boldly did invite
The British Monarch to renew the Fight.
So when a desp'rate Wretch in India bred,
To Death devotes his hot distemper'd Head,
The raging Murd'rer flys about the Streets,
And wounds with savage Outrage all he meets:
Till he himself receives a fatal Wound,
And weltring in his Blood distains the Ground.

Mean time, the Valiant Britons did prepare
Their Arms, and all their Instruments of War;
Resolv'd by Storm Lutetia's Walls to gain,
And with this Triumph end the great Campaign.
Before the furious Onset did Commence,
The Franks prepar'd to make a brave Defence.
Thick on the Walls the Gallic Youth appear'd,
And War-like noise thro' every Street was heard.
Some brought long Spears, vast Bars of Iron some,
Part arm'd with Darts, and part with Arrows come.
Some raging ran with huge Herculean Clubs,
Some massy Balls of Brass, some mighty Tubs

328

Of Cynders, some great Pots of Sulphur bore,
And some the Stones up from the Pavement tore.
What Instruments of Death came next to hand,
The Franks caught up, the Britons to withstand.
So when the Foe invades the Fragrant Cells
In which the Bees industrious Nation dwells;
The watchful Centinels the Signal give,
To raise the whole Militia of the Hive.
Strait mighty Uproar, Tumult, War-like sound
Thro' all the Waxy Labyrinth rebound.
From their high Seats the noisy Youth descend
In raging Troops, their Fortress to defend.
The trembling Roof resounds with threatning Swarms,
With Captains Fury, and the Din of Arms.

Then Pious Arthur three Detachments made,
And gave Command Lutetia to invade
In three distinct Attacks; the Chiefs he nam'd
To lead the Troops, were all for Courage fam'd.
Cutar, to whom pale Fear was yet unknown,
With Death and Danger long familiar grown,
Was nam'd to lead the First, the Second Band
Talmar, the Third brave Maca did Command.
Boldly the Britons march'd to Storm the Walls,
And from their lofty Towers to chase the Gauls.
The Archers on the Foe their Arrows spent,
And their long Spears the raging Spearmen sent.
Some flaming Firebrands at the Turrets threw,
Here Oaken Trunchions, here bright Javelins flew.

329

Here glitt'ring Darts a bearded Tempest sung,
Here showers of Stones by skilful Hands were slung.
Part hurl'd up masly Balls of Iron, part
Threw Wild-fire temper'd with destructive Art;
Artillery more dreadful than the Sword,
Which Sodom's Lake, and Ætna's Caves afford
With Sulphur, Nitre, and Bitumen stor'd.
The Storm was dreadful, while prodigious Cries,
And War-like noise rang thro' th'astonish'd Skies.
Many brave Britons on the place expir'd,
And many Wounded from the Town retir'd.
Thus long th'undaunted Britons from beneath,
With missive Ruin, and projected Death,
Gaul'd the Lutetians, but in vain they strove,
From their strong Walls their Squadrons to remove.

Then Cutar hot with Martial Fury, cry'd,
Enough, brave Friends of this; and then apply'd
His Scaling Ladder to the Walls, the rest
Provok'd by his Example, onward prest.
To guard their Heads against the impending War,
They joyn'd their Shields, and held them in the Air,
Which with Contiguous Brims a Covering made;
And thus advanc'd Lutetia to invade.
Cutar with noble Ardor in his Eyes,
Clad in Refulgent Arms began to rise.
Profuse of Life he mounted from beneath,
With Danger pleas'd, and negligent of Death:
Of Death which thick descended from the Wall
In all its Shapes, and horrible in all.

330

Spears, Arrows, Darts stuck in his batter'd Shield,
Thick as the Canes which crown an Indian Field.
A thousand Deaths he on his Shield sustain'd,
And the high Battlements had almost gain'd:
At last the Warriour by a Javelin struck,
Which past his Shield, and in his in-step stuck,
He was oblig'd to quit the hot Attack,
And by his Spear supported, halted back.
Hobbesian (who with Honour do's not name
Hobbesian? his has rais'd Britannia's Fame)
Apply'd his Balm with wondrous Art prepar'd,
The Hero heal'd, and had a great Reward.

Tho' from the Walls the Chief was forc'd to halt,
His Troops by Vebba led, renew'd th'Assault.
Beneath the brazen Canopy's high Roof,
Made by their Shields to beat the Tempest off,
They rais'd their Scaling Ladders to the Top
Of the high Battlements, and mounted up.
But still the Gallic Troops maintain'd their Post,
And many Valiant Chiefs the Britons lost.
Many were crush'd to pieces by the fall
Of Trees, and Rocks hurl'd from Lutetia's Wall.
Some fell in Storms of Arrows, some in Showers
Of Darts projected from the lofty Towers.
Some were by massy Clubs of Life berest,
Some had their Heads by Battle-Axes cleft.
Part had their Brains dash'd out by Iron-Balls,
Which flying round bespatter'd all the Walls.

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Some were with flaming Pitch or Sulphur burn'd,
Some from th'inclining Ladder headlong turn'd.
Some having gain'd the Battlement's high tops;
And leaping boldly midst the Gallic Troops,
Before their Shields were rais'd to ward the thrust,
Pierc'd with the Spear, fell Breathless to the Dust.

Mean time in Arms great Talmar glorious Shone,
And with a noble sire assail'd the Town.
Illustrious Ansel did the Troops Command
Which Talmar's valiant Squadron did withstand.
The Briton did his usual Ardor show,
And with amazing Courage Charg'd the Foe.
He show'd a Mind for great Atchievements form'd,
And midst a thousand Deaths, Lutetia storm'd.
Now he retreated, now he onward slew,
Tho' still repuls'd, did still th'Assault renew.
When he at last receiv'd a fatal Blow,
From a vast Stone which once th'impending Brow
Of some high Rock, fell down with weather worn,
Or from it's Airy Seat with Thunder torn.
Great Astroban with both his hands did throw
The craggy heap to crush th'adventrous Foe.
It did his nerves above the Knee-pan wound,
The Briton fell, and strecht along the ground,
His Friends came round, and to the Army's Rear
Did from the Walls with grief the Hero bear.

Mean time, a Third Assault was carry'd on
By Maca, who Immortal Praises won.

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Twice his Brigade with Vigour did Attack,
The lofty Walls, and twice was beaten back.
Maca enrag'd did the third time renew
The fierce Assault, and with his ladder flew
To Scale the Town, boldly the Warriour rose,
And leap'd upon the Walls amidst the Foes.
He beat the Squadrons off, and leaping down
Maintain'd a noble Fight within the Town.
His Friends with wondrous Brav'ry strove to gain
The high rais'd Battlements, but strove in vain.
After a sharp Assault, the Walls at last
Lanar to follow Maca, only past.
So when the Sea urg'd by a furious Gale,
Musters his watry Squadrons to assail
A lofty Mound, that do's some Port defend,
In fruitless Insults they their Fury spend:
Yet some tall Waves that to the Storm advance
O'erlooking all the Ocean, may by chance
O'er the high Fence their liquid Mountain throw,
While all the rest defeated backward flow.
Soon, as great Maca saw his valiant Friend,
Let us, he cry'd, bravely our selves defend.
The Britons may a prosperous Onset make,
Bring us Relief, and Strong Lutetia take!
Let us howe'er the Gallic Troops defy,
Combate like Britons, and like Britons dy.
Let us such firm, unshaken Courage show,
As may at least intimidate the Foe:
Who when they see what Men the Town assail,
Will feel their Spirits sink, their Courage fail.

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Thus by a great and honourable Fall
We shall dismay and help subdue the Gaul,
And leave him heartless to defend the Wall.
Bravely the Chiefs th'invading Foe sustain'd,
And prest with whole Brigades, the Fight maintain'd.
Great numbers they destroy'd, and spread around
With sever'd Limbs, and gasping Heads the ground.
Long Back to Back th'unbroken Warriours stood,
Panting with Slaughter, red with hostile Blood.
Those of the Franks who hardier than the rest,
Close on the mighty Champions onward prest,
Did sure Destruction from the Fauchion meet,
And fell in heaps before the Conquerours feet.
Henceforth from every Side the Clamorous Foe,
Against the Chiefs, promiscous Weapons throw.
Spears, Javelins, Arrows, Darts across the Sky
In storms of bright Destruction round them fly.
A brave Defence they made, and each great Chief
Show'd Strength, and Courage which exceed Belief.
Their ample Orbs sustain'd a pondrous Wood
Of thick set Spears, that high and horrid stood.
Their Arms were blunted, and their Armour bruis'd,
And gaping Wounds their Blood around diffus'd.
Till faint with bloody Labour, Wounds and Pain
Lanar fell down and lay strecht out as slain.
Maca turn'd round, and o'er his Body stood
Bath'd in his Own, his Friends, and Gallic Blood.
With wondrous Constancy th'Intrepid Man
Beat off the thronging Troops, which on him ran.

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Till Clotar hearing that the Walls were Scal'd,
Came to repel the Britons, and assail'd
With utmost Rage the Caledonian Chief,
Who bravely still maintain'd the War-like Strife.
At last, exhausted with expence of Blood,
Which from his gaping Wounds in Rivers flow'd,
He fell, and o'er his Friend expiring lay,
And gasp'd without a groan, his Life away.
So when strong Shipwrights fell a lofty Pine,
Which they a Mast for some tall Ship design,
With thick repeated Strokes, and frequent Wounds
The Mountain trembles, and the Wood resounds:
As yet th'unshaken Tree amidst the Skies,
Scarce nods his head, and the sharp Axe defies:
At last, his roots cut off, at every stroke,
He learns from side to side to roll and rock;
As he his fitness for the Work would shew,
Which when a Mast he must hereafter do.
Then on a suddain, with a mighty sound
He leaves the Heav'ns, and loads the groaning Ground.
Clotar rush'd in, and with the Fauchion's stroke,
Each Champion's Head from off his Shoulder took.
Which high amidst the Air on lofty Poles,
To daunt their Friends he planted on the Walls.
The Britons by the miserable Sight
VVere not dismay'd; but more provok'd to Fight.
The Pious King by the sad Object mov'd,
For he the Warriors much esteem'd and lov'd;
Grasping a flaming Fir-Tree in his hand,
Flew to the Eastern Gate, and gave Command,

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That his undaunted Troops should do the same,
And burn the Gate down with devouring Flame.
The British Youth their Valiant Prince obey'd,
And Trees and Timber to the Gate convey'd,
Where soon they rais'd a thick and lofty Wood,
Which, as thy Funeral Pile, Lutetia, stood.
Quickly the lighted Trees began to Choak
The Heav'ns around with tow'ring Flame, and Smoke.
Fast to the Gate th'incumbent Plague adher'd,
Which soon but one vast glowing Cole appear'd.
The ruddy Conq'rour with refulgent Arms
Climbs up the Towers, and all the Town alarms.
From the high Gate the melted Iron flow'd,
And on the ground a pond'rous Deluge glow'd.
The fierce Invader fasten'd on the Walls,
And from the cleaving Stones broke mighty Scales;
With ravening Teeth it tore vast pieces out,
And raging, threw the Fragments round about.
The Fire with such Success the Gate assail'd,
O'er Oaks, and Stones, and Bars of Brass prevail'd.
Some Franks, dismay'd to see the Burning spread,
Left the high Walls, and from its Terrour fled.
Some to the ground from the high Turrets came,
Smother'd with pitchy Smoke, and fry'd with Flame.
Some, who to quench the Burning, forward rush'd,
Were by the falling Heaps in pieces crush'd.
For the high Towers, the Gate, and shatter'd Wall,
In mingled Ruin now began to fall.
The cracking Structure, crackling Flames, and Cries
Dreadful to hear, distracted all the Skies.

336

Thus did the lofty Gate the Flames obey,
And on the ground in smoking Rubish lay.
The Streets were open to the Briton's view,
To guard the Breach The Gallic Squadrons flew.

Then Pious Arthur Waving o'er his Head
High in the Air, broad Caliburno, said
Come, follow, Britons, where I lead the way,
These Walls no longer can your progress stay.
Then with an ardor wholly Arthur's own,
Such as before was ne'er in Battel shown,
Up the high Breach the fearless Monarch rose,
Resolv'd to cut his passage thro' his Foes:
To whom his glorious Arms more dreadful shone,
Then all the impetuous Flames before had done.
He did with Ease o'er the high Ruins leap,
And strode with mighty strides from Heap to Heap.
The Briton thus advanc'd; on the other hand
The Franks drew up his fury to withstand.
Marac did first the Briton's course resist,
Threw his bright Javelin, but the Warriour mist.
Then his vast Spear the mighty Monarch cast,
Which all the folds of the thick Buckler past.
Thence thro' his Skull it passage did obtain,
And pierc'd the inmost Marrow of the Brain;
Where the melodious Strings of Sense are found
Up to a due and just extension wound;
All tun'd for Life, and fitted to receive
Th'harmonious strokes which outward Objects give.

337

Great Stuffa next oppos'd the King who came,
From Alpine Mountains to advance his Fame.
The mighty Allobrog all swoln with rage,
Shook his long Ash preparing to engage.
A Breast, and Back, and Boots of Brass he wore,
Dreadful for Arms, but for his Aspect more.
High in the Air his polish'd Shield did glow,
As when a Wood burns on a Mountains brow.
Colossus like he on the Ruins stood
Verst in Destruction, and inur'd to Blood.
The haughty Chief resolv'd to guard the Breach,
And as the King advanc'd within the reach
Of his long Spear, the vast Helvetian threw,
Hoping to pierce th'invading Briton thro';
But o'er his Head the pond'rous Weapon flew.
Then at the hideous Allobrog, the King
Did with his usual Force and Fury sling
His Glitt'ring Javelin, whose impetuous Stroke
The Warriour's Shin-bone all in Splinters broke.
The Pagan fell, and did in Torment roar,
Curst all his Gods, but Curst King Arthur more.
He on the Breach did his vast Limbs extend,
And with his Bulk did still the Town defend.
Arthur came up, and with a single Blow
Struck off his Head, and then amidst the Foe
The ghastly heap with Indignation threw,
Which gnash'd its Teeth, and Curs'd ev'n as it flew.

338

Soon as th'Helvetian Champion fell, the rest
Forsook the Breach with pannie Fear possest.
The Conquering Briton march'd undaunted down,
And wav'd his flaming Sword within the Town.
The British Youth the King's Command obey'd,
Onward they came Lutetia to invade,
And o'er the Breach their Ensigns they convey'd.
Here did the Franks a stout Resistance make,
And boldly Charg'd the Foe, to beat them back.
Long did their Troops a bloody Fight maintain,
And many Chiefs were wounded, many slain.
While on the Foe the Pious Briton prest,
He struck his Javelin thro' Palmida's Breast.
Next at his feet lay great Olcarden slain,
Thro' his right Eye the Weapon pierc'd his Brain.
Then Gyon, Bomont, and brave Harlam dy'd
By Arthur's Arms, and many Chiefs beside.
Broad Caliburno mighty Slaughter made,
And high in heaps the Gallic Cohorts laid.
Limbs, sever'd Heads, dismember'd Trunks around
With Helms and Bucklers mixt, o'erspread the ground.
As when a loud Autumnal Tempest moves
Th'inclining Pines, and shakes the Golden Groves,
The Leaves and Fruit from bending boughs fall down
In yellow Showers, and all the mountains Crown.
So thick a long the Streets the Pagans lay,
Where the destroying Briton made his way.

339

Mean time King Clotar his Battalions brought,
From distant Parts where he before had fought.
Urg'd with resistless Fate, and wild with Rage,
He wav'd his Fauchion eager to engage.
King Arthur seeing Clotar from afar,
Advanc'd with martial Joy to meet the War.
The Franks and Britons did their Ranks divide,
And show'd a vast Concern on either side.
As when two Lyons eager to possess
The howling Empire of the Wilderness
Rush to decisive War on Lybia's Plains,
They lash their Sides, and shake their Tawny Mains.
Then grin, and roar, and from their raging Eyes
Send out fierce streams of Fire amidst the Skys.
Death and Defyance in their looks appear,
And all the Forest seems to shake with Fear.
With no less deadly Looks, with such a Rage
The mighty Foes for Conquest did engage.

The Gallic King with Fury onward prest,
And aim'd a mortal stroke at Arthur's Crest.
His faithful Shield the Fauchion's progress slaid,
Which in the Plate a deep Impression made.
The Pious Prince enrag'd, against the Foe
From his strong Arm discharg'd a dreadful Blow.
It beat against his head his spacious Shield,
His Eyes grew dim, and back the Monarch reel'd.
But he recovering soon his Feet and Sight,
Return'd with Fury to renew the Fight.

340

The War was terrible, and either Foe
Did mighty skill in Arms and Courage show.
Lutetia's Towers did with the Strokes resound
And the pale Cohorts trembling stood around.
So when two Eagles on the Airy Brow
Of some high Rock, their Strength and Courage show
In single Fight, the Feather'd Foes employ
Beaks, Pounces, Wings each other to destroy.
Woods, Valleys, Mountains, Shores, and ecchoing Rocks
Ring with the War, and feel the furious strokes.

The Frank observing that his Arm did weild
His Sword in vain against King Arthur's Shield.
Retreating, to the ground did downward stoop,
And heav'd a mighty Rocky Fragment up.
Then did the furious Warriour forward step,
And hurl'd with both his hands the pondrous Heap.
The Britons trembled when they saw the Stone
With such a Force against their Monarch thrown.
O'er Arthur's Shoulder slew the slinting Rock,
But as it past a craggy Corner struck
The Shoulder's point, and his bright Armour bruis'd,
Which in his Flesh a painful Wound produc'd.
His Friends grew pale to see that Shoulder hurt,
Which did their Empire, and their Hopes support.
The Pious Monarch did the Wound neglect,
And for one Mortal Stroke did all his might collect,
Like some Celestial Sword of temper'd Flame,
Down on the Frank keen Caliburno came.

341

It fell upon his Neck with vengeful Sway,
And thro' the shrinking Muscles made its way,
The Head re-clin'd, on the right Shoulder lay.
Down fell the Frank, disabled by the Wound,
Weltring in Gore, and raging, Bit the Ground.
The Pious Prince did o'er the Warriour stand,
Bright Caliburno flaming in his hand.
And thus the Frank bespoke: Ambitious Prince,
Justice Divine do's now Mankind convince,
That Heav'n, tho' patient, do's not still neglect
To crush Oppressors, and th'Opprest protect.
What Seas of Blood hast thou in pastime shed?
What Rapine has thy Lust of Empire fed?
How hast thou Ravag'd, Ruin'd, Spoil'd, Undone
The Realms of Neighbour Princes, and thy own?
Thy Friends thou hast betray'd, surpriz'd thy Foes,
And broke the Sacred Bonds of solemn Vows.
Europa's wasted Realms proclaim aloud,
Thy Thirst of Empire, and thy Thirst of Blood.
Long have the Nations round addrest the Skies,
For Bolts and Vengeance, with Confederate Cries;
And Heav'n at last with the just Prayer complies.
This said, the Monarch with a second Blow
Struck off his Head, and spurn'd the Vanquish'd Foe.
The Britons rais'd to Heav'n a joyful Shout,
The Franks, dismay'd with Ignominious Rout,
Began to fly; the King their Squadrons chas'd,
And o'er their slaughter'd Heaps Victorious pass'd.

342

So when a Shoal of flying Fish have spy'd,
By the Reflection from his glitt'ring Side,
A swift Finn'd Dolphin stricking thro' the Tyde;
They fly with all the speed that deadly fear
Can give, to scape the glorious Ravager:
The noise of clashing Arms, amazing Cries,
And horrid Clamours, rend th'astonish'd Skies.
Anguish, Despair, Distraction, ghastly Fear,
In all their frightful Forms, and Looks appear.
Thro' every Street ran down a Sea of Blood,
Shields, Heads, and Helms lay mingled in the Flood.
The King prest onward with resistless Force,
Nor dar'd they make a Stand to stay his course.
As when to Plant some Island newly found,
Men Fire the Woods to free th'unwholsome Ground.
The lawless Flames born by Impetuous Winds,
Burn down the ancient Oaks, and lofty Pines.
They clear the Region, and enrich the Soil
With heaps of Ashes, and the Forest's spoil.
So did th'invading Monarch make his way,
So thick the Spoils behind the Conqueror lay.

The Franks at last, seeing Lutetia lost,
That nothing could resist the British Host,
By prudent Clodion's Counsel made a stand,
Threw down their Arms, and did their Lives demand.
Then Clodion thus the British King bespoke:
We your Compassion, mighty Prince, invoke.
Lutetia's yours, we your Imperial Sway
Will, as your Subjects, or your Slaves, obey.

343

Your raging Troops, Victorious King, restrain,
And save the Gallic Youth who yet remain.
Our Wives, our Maids, our Babes for Pity cry,
Your Justice will not let the Guiltless dy.
From the destroying Sword their Lives secure,
And let your Mercy Triumph o'er your Power.

He said. The King did with Compassion melt,
And in his Breast relenting Mercy felt.
Enough of Blood he cry'd, the Sword forbear,
Th'Oppressor's Slain, let us the Subject spare.
The British Youth the King's Command obey'd,
And Soon the progress of the Sword was stay'd.

Thus in despight of all th'Efforts that Hell
And Earth could make the Briton to repell,
With wondrous Toyl, and mighty Fortitude,
The valiant King the haughty Frank Subdu'd.

FINIS