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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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?
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And spreading Laurels shall his temples Crown.
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