 | Arminius |  |
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SCENE VIII.
Enter Arminius.Arminius.
My fellow-warriors, you brave, gen'rous band,
A great occasion calls us to the field,
A glorious enterprize. Let us go forth
The champions of our country. We are summon'd
By the loud voice of nature; ev'ry motive
That can excite, and animate our valour,
All causes that inflame the heart of man,
Conspire this night to draw the avenging sword.
From hence I date the liberty of Germany.
The requisition of the proud invader
No more shall force our sons to join their standard,
And in a mass to fight their foreign wars.
No more our virtuous wives, and virgin daughters,
Shall suffer brutal lust and violation.
The Romans are surrounded, close besieg'd;
No means of flight: By the immortal gods,
They are deliver'd victims to our swords.
[A trumpet sounds.
Inguiomer.
That sound proclaims the signal for the march.
Arminius.
'Tis as I order'd: Oh! my gallant friends,
My brave associates, if your country's cause
Glows in your bosoms; if you feel the glory
Of your renown'd forefathers; if the flame,
The sacred flame of liberty inspires you;
If you prefer the plan of ancient laws
To foreign tyrants, and a foreign yoke:
Now grasp your javelins, now unsheathe your swords.
In me behold your Gen'ral; in the field
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Follow Arminius; I will marshal you
To fame, to liberty, immortal glory.
[A warlike march.
[Exit, followed by all.
The Bards come forward, singing.
1.
Hark, warriors, hark!—That voice again!A warning voice! heard you the sound?
To arms, it cries, to arms ye freeborn men;
To arms the woods,
To arms the floods,
To arms, to arms, the echoing hills rebound.
2.
The thunder rolls; the light'nings glare;The gods are rushing to the plain;
Their chariots glitter in the air;
Death in his shroud
Rides in a cloud,
And liberty calls forth her martial train.
3.
Ye warriors seek th'embattled throng;For freedom who his zeal displays,
His fame shall live,—in sacred song;
And tuneful rhyme,
To latest time
The Bards of Germany shall sound his praise.
[Exeunt.
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Yes, go, ye gen'rous band,
Firm champions of the land,
O'er all the field
Your javelins wield;
Where'er you rush, still in the rear
Your wives and daughters you shall hear;
Our war-songs, and our cries
Shall rend th'astonish'd skies,
Till you unsluice a crimson flood,
And stretch th'invaders welt'ring in their blood.
[Exeunt; Veleda following them.
| Arminius | |