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 |
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 | King Arthur |  |
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.
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.
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.
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.
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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.
| King Arthur | |