University of Virginia Library

Lovely Aurora makes a mild Essay
With glimm'ring Dawn, to introduce the Day.
Her rosie Steps the Sun pursues, and spreads
His smiling Glories on the Mountains Heads.
The Princes rose, and Hoel thus exprest
His friendly Passion, to his Royal Guest.
Your Virtues shew you are by Heav'n design'd,
A great Deliv'rer of opprest Mankind.
You give to Realms with Wars molested, Peace,
And from their Chains tormented Slaves release.
Fair Liberty's, and blest Religion's Cause,
Reviving Hopes from your Protection draws.
Your prosp'rous Arms invading Plagues repel,
And monstrous Gods, and monstrous Tyrants quell.
King Odar's Realm and mine you save, in his
You settle Peace, and Truth Divine in this.
And now Compassion arms your valiant Hand,
To free from barb'rous Rage, your native Land.
To vanquish Pagan Darkness, and display
Immortal Light, and pure Etherial Day.
My self will here abide, and Succours lend,
O'er all the Realm Christ's Empire to extend:
Conan my Son shall on your Triumphs wait,
And when return'd, your glorious Deeds relate.
I'll now command that with incessant Care,
My Men assist, your Losses to repair.
Then I'll conduct you to the Druids Grove,
Which Men of Heav'nly Contemplation love.
Where solemn Walks and awful Shade invite
Compos'd Devotion, and Divine Delight,
Exclude the Sun's, to let in purer Light.
There with your pious Conversation blest,
New light will fill my Mind, new Joy my Breast.
The Orders giv'n the Navy's Wants requir'd,
The Princes to the Druids Grove retir'd:
Where Arthur's Language did the King inspire,
With Holy Transports, and Seraphick Fire.

Mean time th' Armoricans and Britons meet,
All zealous to Equip the shatter'd Fleet:
Part to the Groves and woody Hills repair,
And with loud Labour fill the echoing Air.
Axes high rais'd by brawny Arms, descend
With mighty Sway, and make the Forest bend.
The Mountains murmur, and the nodding Oaks,
Groan with their Wounds, from thick redoubled Strokes.
The falling Trees desert the neighb'ring Sky,
Where now the Clouds may unmolested fly.
A shady Harvest lies disperst around,
And lofty Ruine loads th' encumber'd Ground.
Part the hewn Trees draw down with wondrous Toil,
T'enrich the Ocean with the Mountains Spoil.
So fast they came, and in such Order stood,
As th' Orphean Lyre had call'd th' obsequious Wood,
From their fixt Seats, to dance upon the Flood.
Part raise the Masts, now to be shaken more
With furious Winds, than on their Hills before.
Part shape new Ribs, and with industrious Care,
Ships broken Backs, and ghastly Wounds repair.
Part their bruis'd Sides anoint with unctious Pitch,
Part the carv'd Sterns, with Paint and Gold enrich:
Part Cables twist, part smear'd with Smoak and Sweat,
With vast Cyclopean Strokes huge Anchors beat.
While thus the Britons did their Ships repair,
Th' Infernal Prince enrag'd and wreckt with Care,
Swift, as exploded Lightning from the Skies,
A second time to Lapland Mountains flies:
Where the rough Monarch's noisy Palace stands,
Whose awful Nod, the raging Winds commands.
To him thus Lucifer: Kind Prince, to you
A second time I for Assistance sue.
The cursed Prince that by your high Command,
Your furious Subjects drove on Hoel's Land;
Aided by Hoel does his Fleet repair,
Ready to Albion to transport the War.
Let adverse Winds blow on the troubled Main,
Retard their Project, and their Ships detain:
Till Octa has prepar'd his Warlike Fleet,
The proud Invader on the Seas to meet.

He ceas'd; The Emperor of the Winds replies,
When you shall ask what Rebel Power denies:
Your Realms you rule with uncontested Sway,
Your Post is to Command, mine to Obey.
That said, he calls his wandring Subjects home,
Eurus and Notus straight obedient come;
Last, sluggish Auster, to his Den with wet
And flabby Wings, does heavily retreat.
To whom their Prince; Let now your Labours cease,
Indulge your Wings, be reconcil'd to Peace:
Close in your Darksome Prisons sleeping lie,
To gain more Breath to blow, more Strength to fly.
Then down their howling Throats black Sops he threw,
Of Poppies and cold Night-shade made, that grew
On the dark Banks, where Lethe's lazy Deep
Does its black Stores, and drousie Treasure keep,
Rolls its slow Flood, and rocks the nodding Waves asleep.
The strong Enchantments quick Admission find,
And the wild Rout benumming Fetters bind:
They murmur in their sleep, and strive in vain
To spurn away th' unweildy leaden Chain.
Then calling Boreas, says, Fly Boreas, fly,
Blow o'er the Lands, and on the Billows lie:
Make haste, and to th' Armoric Coast repair,
Be thine the spacious Empire of the Air.
Unrivall'd, unmolested Reign alone,
Till all thy Force is spent, and all thy Breath is gone;
No Hostile, windy Powers contest thy Reign,
And uncontroll'd Dominion of the Main.

Scarce had he ended, when up Boreas springs,
And thro' the Air spreads out his furious Wings.
He o'er warm Climes diffuses Northern Spoils,
And the cold Treasures of the frozen Isles.
With blustring War he frights old Ocean's Court,
Buffets the Waves, and raises Storms in sport.
In vain th' impatient Britons spread their Sails,
Loud Boreas keeps them back with adverse Gales.
Proud Lucifer urg'd with his Rage and Spight,
Back to Britannia takes his Airy Flight;
To find the Saxon Monarch, and inspire
His trembling Soul with fresh Infernal Fire.

And now the Night does her black Throne ascend,
And dusky Shades her silent State attend:
While pale fac'd Cynthia with her starry Train,
Dart down their trembling Lustre on the Main.
The weary Lab'rers their stiff Limbs repose,
And Sleep's soft Hand their drowsie Eye-lids close.
All rest enjoy, but Octa anxious lay,
Wakeful, and longing for returning Day.
His dreadful Crimes affright his startled Soul,
And in his Breast black Tides of Horrour roll.
Dire Shapes, and staring Ghosts pass threatning by,
And Streaks of Fire across th' Apartment fly.
He hears the Shrieks of those his bloody Hand
Had murder'd, or that dy'd by his Command:
He hears the Widows Sighs, and Orphans Moans,
Himself had made, and tortur'd Pris'ners Groans.
The Grounds of pale Despair he sometimes draws,
From Arthur's Valour, and his Righteous Cause.
Sometimes he fears his injur'd Subjects Rage,
Their vengeful Arms, against him will engage;
Then starts, and thinks he hears Prince Arthur's Fleet
Is on the Coast, proclaim'd in ev'ry Street.

Then Lucifer does Odin's Shape assume,
And with Stern Grace enters King Octa's Room.
His vig'rous Limbs had dazling Armour on,
And round his Head his polish'd Helmet shone.
His conqu'ring Sword hung down with awful Grace,
And Scars of Honour seam'd his manly Face.
His warlike Hand grip'd his Vulcanian Shield,
With rare Devices pourtray'd on the Field.
With Martial State he strides along the Room,
And shakes at ev'ry Step his lofty Plume.
Advancing to the Bed where Octa lay,
He spake: Son Octa, from celestial Day,
From the blest Groves, and mild Elysian Seats,
Thy Father Odin to thy Aid retreats.
To ease thy restless Mind of Anxious Cares,
Support thy Hopes, and dissipate thy Fears.
Stand thou unmov'd at Arthur's proud Alarms,
Conquest attends thine, and thy Saxons Arms.
He'll sink beneath the Sea's insulting Wave,
Or landing, find on Shore a surer Grave.
Think on the Spoils and Trophies you have born,
And spreading Laurels on your Temples worn.
Let none that's sprung from my Victorious Race,
At Danger shrink, and my great Stock debase.
Go, haste thy Royal Navy to prepare,
Let Ships with Ships encounter, War with War.
On the wide Main th' Invader's Fleet oppose,
Better to meet, than here expect your Foes.
Go chase their scatter'd Navy o'er the Deep,
And thus in Peace, thy envy'd Empire keep.
He ceas'd; and with Majestick Pace retir'd,
And left King Octa with fresh Life inspir'd.

Who with the Sun arose, resolv'd to meet
With all his Naval Power, Prince Arthur's Fleet.
He gave Command, the Captains straight resort
To their tall Ships, and leave the wanton Court.
A forward Zeal the busie Sailors shew,
Some mend old Ships, and some equip the new.
With flaming Reeds some their pitch'd Bellies fry,
Some hoist the Yards, and Canvas Wings apply.
Some from its Cradle launch a rocking Hull,
Some at the Cables strain, and howling pull
Vast Anchors up, some Stores and Arms entomb,
And stow with hidden War the Ship's dark Womb.
The Shores around, and all the Oazy Soil
Resound with Clamour, and the Sailors Toil.
Well Rigg'd and Mann'd, the Ships from ev'ry Port
To their appointed Rendezvous resort.
The Rivers disembogue, besides their Flood,
Into the Seas, a lofty, painted Wood.

And now the Moon, had twice the Silver Field
Of her fair Orb, with borrow'd Glory fill'd:
Since the uneasie Britons had remain'd
By adverse Winds, within their Port detain'd.
Boreas that had his Blasts profusely blown,
His Storms all spent, and bleaky Treasures gone,
With tir'd and flaggy Pinions now retreats,
To fetch Recruits from wild Laplandian Seats:
Auster does next with milder Blasts prevail,
And for the Britons blows a prosperous Gale.
Now each rough Hero of the Ocean stands
On the high Deck, giving Austere Commands.
Prince Arthur to Embark approach'd the Shoar,
Where the reposing Seas no longer roar:
But at his Feet obsequious Billows lay,
As Conscious of the Power they must obey.
Then their broad Backs subsiding they submit,
Proud to sustain their future Monarch's Fleet.
The lofty Ships on rolling Billows bound,
The Waves in soft Embraces clinging round.
As when the Trojans, in the Mantuan Song,
From Africk Sands, to Latium sail'd along:
Old Ocean rose up from his rocky Throne,
A Crystal Scepter, and a reedy Crown
His Power confest, his dewy Head he rear'd,
Above the Flood, and smiling on the Waves appear'd.
New-gather'd Banks of Quicksands he remov'd,
And kindly thro' the Deep, the Navy shov'd.
So the calm Ocean seem'd with equal care,
On its pleas'd Waves, the British Fleet to bear.
Unweildy Porpoisses spout Seas away,
And friendly Dolphins round the Squadrons play.
The floating Castles dance upon the Tide,
And on its foaming Ridge Triumphant ride.
In glorious Lines the painted Squadrons move,
As if the Poets Gods laps'd from above,
In gilded Clouds, were dancing on the Seas
In Masquerade, with the green Deities.

Twice the great Ruler of the Day, had hurl'd
His flaming Orb, around th' enlighten'd World:
When at the early Dawning of the Day,
The Navies in each other's Prospect lay.
The Saxon Squadrons cover all the Main,
And with their Prows divide the liquid Plain.
Plying to Windward, Arthur's Men prepare
Their Navy, to receive th' advancing War.
Down on their Fleet King Octa bravely bore,
Whose long-wing'd Navy stretcht from Shore to Shore.
Both Fleets in Lines of War stood cross the Deep,
And ready to engage, just Order keep.
They hoist their bloody Flags on either side,
And Death her Jaws does for her Feast provide.
Now the shrill Trumpets sprightly Voice, and all
The Harmony of War, to Combate call.
The Saxon Sailors with a hideous Cry,
Affright the Deep, and rend the echoing Sky:
The barb'rous Yellings and out-rageous Sound
From Rock to Rock, and Shore to Shore rebound.
A furious Fight between the Fleets began,
And bold Selingbert first Attacks their Van.
Now bearded Darts, and fatal Javelins fly,
And Balls of Fire hiss thro' th' inlighten'd Sky.
Each on his Foe missive Destruction pours,
And Death receives, and gives in feather'd Showers.
Thus milder Fate at distance sparing slew,
Till to a closer Fight Selingbert flew,
And on his Foe his massy Grapples threw:
Which clenching fast their pond'rous, griping Claws,
The rude Embrace, both Ships together draws.
The Saxons flew on Board with furious Arms,
And on the Decks appear in numerous Swarms.
Vogan enrag'd, did fatal Wounds dispense,
With lavish Hand, and made a brave Defence.
With Battle-Axes, Swords, unweildy Crows,
They clear the Decks of the insulting Foes.
Beat down with ghastly Wounds, some gasping lie,
Others their Arms cast down, for Mercy cry.
Into the Waves some their pale Bodies throw,
And fly from Death above, to Death below.
Down the Ships sides Torrents of Saxon Blood,
With unknown Crimson dye th' astonish'd Flood.
Upon the Decks, which slaughter'd Heaps deform,
Enrag'd Selingbert pours a second Storm,
Which like a Summer's Shower soon disappear'd,
By Valiant Vogan and his Britons clear'd.
Selingbert thus defeated, boils with Rage,
But forc'd at last, his Ship to disengage;
He bears away, and quits th' unequal Fight,
Providing for his safety, by his flight.

Octa mean time his Men for Fight prepares,
And fiercely down on Arthur's Squadron bears.
The spacious sides of his high Ship consum'd
Whole Forests, and whole Mountains Spoils entomb'd.
It self a Fleet a-cross the Billows stood,
Engross'd the Winds, and press'd the lab'ring Flood.
The lofty, gilded Palace shone from far,
Presenting to the Foe a glorious War.
Bold Octa, and the Valiant Arthur meet,
Which struck a vast Concern thro' either Fleet:
On this important Action seem'd to wait
The British Hero's, and Britannia's Fate.
Both sides with Shouts their fatal Weapons fling,
And wing'd with Death thick Showers of Arrows sing.
Unerring Darts in hissing Tempests fly,
And carry swift Destruction thro' the Sky.
Ships rush to Battle with enormous Shocks,
As Tow'rs with Tow'rs encounter'd, Rocks with Rocks.
So in the Northern Seas when Storms arise,
High Rocks of Snow, and sailing Hills of Ice
Against each other with a mighty Crash,
Driv'n by the Winds, in rude Rencounters dash.
The Sea afflicted foams, the Waves on high,
Toss'd by th' batt'ring Islands, lave the Sky.
The Crystal Towers break with a fearful Crack,
And on the Billows spead their foaming Wreck.
Vast Sheets of rocky Ice, and broken Isles,
Oppress the lab'ring Ocean with their Spoils.
On both sides now they call forth all their Rage,
Resolv'd in closer Combate to engage.
Then Death and Slaughter in sad Triumph reign'd,
And Seas of Blood the slipp'ry Decks distain'd.
Some the Pale Dead into the Ocean heave,
Some in the Ships low Caves the wounded leave.
Prodigious Numbers fell on either Side,
Thin on the Decks they look'd, but thick upon the Tide.
For neither Chief e'er met a greater Foe,
Both wondrous Skill, and wondrous Courage show:
While Vict'ry poising equal Hope and Fear,
With doubtful Wings hung hov'ring in the Air.

The wise Prince Arthur, whilst on Shore equips.
Their use till then unknown, a sort of Ships,
which since the Deeds of that Important Day,
Among lost Arts in deep Oblivion lay:
Till Captains that in after Ages liv'd,
The long forgotten Stratagem reviv'd.
Bitumen, Sulphur, and Vulcanian Spoils;
From lab'ring Mountains, and from unctious Soils
Napththa and Pitch, with Skill and Labour wrought,
With hidden Stores of Flame the Vessel fraught:
Like rolling Clouds where Lightning's Seeds remain,
Their swelling Wombs a fiery Birth contain.
Arthur so strange a Ship to Octa sent,
With such Infernal Treasures in it pent:
Which with its grappling Engines fix'd, and fir'd,
The bold Commander to his Friends retir'd.
The Fire with unexstinguish'd Rage, consumes;
The Subterranean Wealth the Ship intombs.
Vast sheets of Flame, and Pitchy Clouds arise,
And burning Vomit spouts against the Skies.
Tempests of Fire th' astonish'd Heav'ns annoy,
Fierce, as those Storms, that from their Clouds destroy:
As Ætna from its glowing Roots was torn,
And by its own wild Hurricanes, was born
From its old Seat, to float upon the Waves,
With Vulcan's Magazins, and Cyclops smoaking Caves.
The burning Plague adher'd to Octa's side,
And the scorcht Ribs the hot Contagion fry'd:
The spreading Mischief's growth no Force restrains,
The Plague resisted more severely Reigns.
To the tall Masts the raging Flame aspires,
And neighbour sits to Heav'n's contiguous Fires.
Octa at last his flaming Ship forsakes,
And in stout Horsa's Vessel Refuge takes.
He once more here his Royal Standard Rears,
Where on the Deck undaunted he appears,
With chearful Looks, dissembling inward Fears.
He strives the Saxons Courage to excite,
To press the Foe, and still maintain the Fight;
But strives in vain, assisted by the Wind,
The spreading Burnings no resistance find.
Resistless Flames advance with lawless Power
From Ship to Ship, and thro' the Fleet devour.
Naked and half-burnt Hulls with hideous Wreck,
Affright the Skies, and fry the Ocean's back:
Scorcht Bodies, broken Masts, and smoaking Beams,
Promiscuous Ruin, float along the Streams.
Deform'd Destruction, and wild Horrour ride
In fearful Pomp, upon the Crimson Tyde.
At last King Octa, dreading longer stay,
Commanding all to follow, tows away;
The Saxon Captains chearfully obey.

But Lucifer enrag'd at this Defeat,
Plots to protect, and cover their Retreat.
Summon'd to his Pavilion, straight repair
The Dæmons, that infest th' Inferiour Air:
With bloated Fiends, that in dark Caves abide,
And o'er the Subterranean Damps preside.
Last the slow Powers come from their misty Dens,
That rule the Marshes, Lakes, and stagnant Fens:
To whom their Prince, see, how King Octa tows
His shatter'd Ships, prest by Victorious Foes.
Go, and protect him from the fierce Pursuit,
And give him time, his Navy to recruit:
Let all your Damps, and lazy Fogs arise,
And with your sluggish Treasures cloud the Skies;
Let your thick Mists repel th' unwelcome Light,
And o'er the Ocean spread a friendly Night.

The humble Powers their haughty Prince obey,
Some from dark Caverns far remote from Day,
From each embowell'd Mount, and hollow Vault,
Crude Exhalations, and raw Vapours brought.
Some from deep Quagmires, Ponds, and sedgy Moors,
Drive the dull Reeks, and shove the haizy Stores:
To their appointed Station all repair,
And with their heavy Wings encumber all the Air.
The ponderous Night's impenetrable Steems
Exclude the Sun, and choak his brightest Beams.
The hov'ring Clouds the Saxon Fleet embrace,
And wondrous Darkness stops the Briton's Chase.
Octa, Æneas like, a misty Night
Around him cast, escapes the Briton's Sight.
Now had the Sun diffus'd the early Day,
From his bright Orb, and chas'd the Fogs away:
To their known Shore the Saxon Navy flies,
And in their Ports and Rivers safely lies.

Arthur, who while the Shades prevail'd, had lain
Under an easie Sail, upon the Main;
Discovering that the Saxon Fleet was lost,
Tack'd, and directly stood for Albion's Coast.
He sail'd not long, before his Joyful Men
Could from the Masts, their native Country ken.
First the Bolerian Promontory rears
His Head, and as a lofty Wedge appears,
That down into the Deep, had from the Shore,
Run from Danmonian Mines and melted Oar:
Here when the Oazy Shore, by ebbing Tides,
Is naked left, around its glitt'ring Sides,
Pale Tinny Oar, and Copper's brighter Vein,
Casts Glimmering Lustre o'er the liquid Plain.
Next they discover the aspiring Hills,
Whose Precious Sides Metallick Treasure fills:
In their dark Caves Cyclopian Lab'rers sweat,
And their vast Blows the ecchoing Hills repeat.
With ghastly Wounds they rend the groaning Earth,
And from its Bowels wrest the massy Birth:
By racking Engines, and redoubled Blows,
She's forced her hidden Riches to disclose.
Under wide Caldrons, some whole Forrests pile,
And melt in purging Flames the wealthy Spoil.
Some in their hot Ætnean Forges sweat,
And glowing Wedges on huge Anvils beat:
Their mighty strokes shake all the bellowing ground,
The neighb'ring Mountains, and the Vales around,
With subterranean Toil and Noise resound.
They pass the crooked Shore, which Fame of old
Enrich'd with pond'rous Pearl, and scatter'd Gold:
They view the Rocks with Gems and Treasure blest,
In verdant Samphire, and Eringo drest.
Danmonian Crows, leaving the Neighb'ring Hills,
In numerous, noisy Flights, their Feet and Bills
With Native Crimson dy'd, o'erspread the Sky,
And o'er the Fleet in Ominous Circles fly.
Not far remov'd, it's sides a Mountain shows,
Where winding Shores a spacious Bay enclose:
His lofty Head, that flying Clouds invades,
From Shore to Shore the dusky Ocean shades.
Long this wild Seat, as ancient Fame obtain'd,
A fierce Gigantick Race of Men maintain'd;
Tall as the Hill, on which the Monsters dwelt,
Whose groaning sides their striding motion felt:
Torn from wild Beasts raw Skins, and grisly Hydes,
A horrid Dress, adorn'd their hideous sides.
Half roasted Swine their savage Jaws devour,
That stain their squallid Chins with flowing Gore.
In thorny Dens the outstrecht Monsters ly,
Half eaten Limbs, and mangled Bodies by:
With Rapes and Thefts, and endless Murders cloy'd,
A fearful Plague, the Region they destroy'd.
Weathering the Point with favourable Gales,
Along the Shore the Conquering Navy Sails:
Into the rough Hibernian Seas they came,
That howling Monsters, and dire Gulphs defame;
Which to avoid, close to the Shore they keep,
Where fair Sabrina to her Parent Deep,
Drawing her silver Train along does glide,
Diluting with fresh Streams the Briny Tyde.
Lovely Sabrina that for refluent Tydes,
Fair Cities, verdant Meadows, flow'ry Sides,
For Finn'd Inhabitants; and pleasant Streams,
Yields only to her fairer Sister Thames.
Passing these Seas, they view the fertile Soil,
Till'd by Silurian Farmers skilful Toil;
Where the vext Sea fair Clamorgania laves,
And rolls along the Sand its foaming Waves:
Here Rhemnius, gliding by Carphilli's Walls,
Proud of its Roman strength, into the Ocean falls.
Then Ratostibium from the hilly Lands,
Rolls down its rapid Tyde, and troubled Sands.
Next they descry an Isle of wondrous Fame;
Which the succeeding Ages Barry name.
In its high sides that to the Sea appear,
Dreadful to tell, th' astonish'd Saylors hear
Ætnean Labour, where the bellowing Rocks,
Shake with Gigantick Toil, and Thundering Strokes
Of groaning Smiths; sometimes a mighty sledge,
On a vast Anvil, beats a flaming wedge:
Now Bellows form'd of vast, capacious Hydes,
All Boreas blow from their Æolian sides.
Now the resisting Flames and Fiery Store,
By Winds assaulted, in wide Forges roar,
And raging Seas flow down of melted Oar.
Sometimes they hear long Iron Bars remov'd,
And to the sides, huge heaps of Cynders shov'd.
As we advanc'd the Coast in Prospect lay,
Which the Dimetian Lords did then obey:
Here th' opening Land invites, with outstretcht Arms,
The troubled Seas, free from the loud Alarms
Of the rough, windy Powers, to take their Ease,
And on its Bosom lye diffus'd in Peace.
The flowing Waters smooth their furrow'd Face,
And gently roll into the Land's Embrace:
To secret Creeks the weary Billows creep,
And stretcht on Oazy Beds securely sleep.
No happy Land, along th' European Coast,
Can such a fair and spacious Haven boast.
In this wide Station, the Dimetians pride,
The biggest Ships, and greatest Fleets may ride,
Safe from the Insults of the Winds and Tide.
Two lofty Castles with their gilded Towers,
Inlighten, and defend the subject Shores.
Here the Victorious Britons safe arrive,
With all the Joy, long-wish'd for Harbours give.
In frequent Throngs, the glad Dimetians stand
Upon the Coast, thick as th' unnumber'd Sand.
Their Acclamations and loud Shouts rebound,
From trembling Hills, and shake the Shores around:
The Ships lay rocking, and their Masts bend more
With Britons Breath, than with the Winds before.
The joyful Britons and their Friends debark,
And near the Shore a spacious Camp they mark.
The pious Prince at a fair Castle staid,
That Malgo the Dimetian Lord obey'd.

Now her brown Wings the silent Night displays,
Light sprinkled o'er with Cynthia's silver Rays.
Silence and Darkness all to Rest invite,
And sleep's soft Chains make fast the Gates of Light.
Prince Arthur sleeps, by Summons from on high,
From trembling Joynts, his active Spirits fly
To the round Palace of th' Immortal Soul,
And thro' the Rooms and dark Apartments roll.
The busie Crowd fills all the labouring Brain,
Bright Fancy's Work-house, where close Cells contain
Of Forms and Images an endless Train,
Which thither thro' the waking Senses glide,
And in fair Mem'ry's Magazine abide.
Compos'd of these, light Scenes and Shows appear,
Which still employ the restless Theater.
Divinely mov'd, the Airy Figures take
Their several Ranks, and this bright Vision make.
Prince Arthur, on a verdant Eminence
Conversing with King Uter stood, from whence,
He views with wondring Eyes, great Lords and States,
Crown'd Heads, Victorious Princes, Potentates,
Heroes and Heroines, a glorious Train,
which in long Order fill'd the subject Plain.
Prince Arthur on the Royal Scene intent,
Demands what this August Assembly meant:
For what end thither come, and who they were
That at th' Illustrious Congress did appear.

King Uter then reply'd: Know pious Son,
That after various bloody Battels won,
You Beauteous Ethelina shall espouse,
The fairest Branch of all King Octa's house.
A Christian Princess of a Pagan Line,
Whose Virtues equal with her Beauty shine.
You shall Triumphant mount the British Throne,
Which has not yet so great a Monarch known.
Swell not with Pride, th' Imperial Seat you gain,
Brings envy'd Honour, but unenvy'd Pain.
Your People rule with equal Laws, and know
You're happy, when you make your Subjects so.
Let them a Good, Indulgent Father find,
Be mercifully Just, severely Kind.
Let your bright Virtues Imitators draw,
Glorious Examples have more Force, then Law.
Seek not an uncontroll'd and lawless Sway,
Subjects from Love, but Slaves from Fear obey.
And whom the People fear, they quickly hate,
Which Passions in their Prince the like Create:
Hence mutual Jealousies, and deep Designs,
Hence strong Distrust the mould'ring State disjoyns.
Diffusing good on all Mankind, you'll show
You imitate Heav'n's Government below.
The Benefactor will most Honour bring,
And the Deliverer's greater than the King:
Believe no Foreign hostile Power, can move
Your Throne, supported by your Subjects Love.

The bright Assembly that surrounds the Hill,
And with their Numbers all the Vally fill,
Are Albion's Hero's, who in future days,
Their own, and Albion's Name, to Heav'n shall raise.
The Regal Orders that the rest outshine,
With glittering Crowns, are the Imperial Line,
That after you, on Albion's Throne shall sit,
Their Names in Fate's Eternal Volumes writ.
The Kings that in the foremost Rank appear,
Who frowning and unpleasant Aspects wear;
Whose waning Crowns with faded Lustre shine,
Shall after you succeed, first Constantine,
Conanus, and the rest of British Line:
These look not with their Native Splendour bright,
But dimly shine, with delegated Light.
Heroick Deeds by great Forefathers done,
Cast all their Glory on them, not their own:
To narrow Bounds their scanty Empire shrinks,
And Britons Grandeur, with their Virtue sinks.
At last their Crimes, offended Heav'n provoke,
To crush their Nation with the Saxon Yoke.

Here Arthur sigh'd, that his degenerate Race,
Should with inglorious Deeds their Stock debase:

When Uter cry'd, Observe the Saxon Line,
Where mighty Kings the British Rank outshine:
Crowns on their Heads, and Scepters in their Hand,
All great in War, and born for high Command.
Their Arms the British Empire shall Assail,
And aided by the Britons Crimes prevail.
This mighty Nation, quickly shall believe
The Christians God, and Heav'nly Light receive.
That's Ethelbert the first of Saxon Race,
That shall pure Faith, and Truth Divine embrace.
He shall destroy in their own Temples Flames,
Their sensless Gods, of barb'rous, Northern Names:
In vain their Priests on helpless Idols call,
They, and their Groves by the same Axes fall:
Fragments of broken Altars, and the spoil
Of ruin'd Gods, fill all th' applauding Isle.
All shall adore the great mysterious King,
And of his Cross the glorious Triumphs sing.
The Spring of Life gilded with Heav'nly Beams,
Purge guilty Minds, with pure Baptismal Streams.
From hence the Light shall break, which shall dispell
The Pagan Shades, that on the Saxons dwell.
Proud Lucifer subdu'd, flies in despair,
With all th' Infernal Powers about the Air,
That with their broad, extended Wings retreat,
To seek a safe, and unmolested Seat:
To fix on Scythian Hills their gloomy Throne,
Or on the Sands fry'd by the burning Zone.
As when the Storks prepare to change their Clime,
The long-neck'd Nation, in the Air sublime,
Wheeling, and towring up in Circles fly,
And with their cackling Cries disturb the Sky:
In lingring Clouds they hang, and Leisure give,
For all their feather'd People to arrive.
To th' Airy Rendezvous all hast away,
And their known Leaders noisy Call obey;
Then thro' the Heav'ns their trackless Flight they take,
And for new Worlds, their present Seats forsake:
So here the Fiends assembled in the Air,
Quit Albion's Soil, and to wild Lands repair.

Remark that Prince, that in the midst appears,
Seven bright Imperial Diadems he wears;
That's the great Egbert, whose heroick Might,
Shall the dismember'd Island reunite:
His Arms shall give him universal Sway,
And all the Saxons shall his Power obey.

See there the great Northumbrian Monarch stands,
Edwine his Name that all the Isle commands:
A happy Prince, if his good Angel's Art
Diverts the Mercian Ruffian's bloody Dart.
Saxons and Britons shall obey his Arms,
Himself, the lovely Ethelburga Charms:
Her beauteous Eyes the mighty Monarch fire,
Her Words, his Soul with Christian Flames inspire
Blest Ethelburga of unrival'd Worth,
That plants Religion in the barren North.

See Alfred there, all shall his Praises sing,
A pious Souldier, and an humble King.
Hero and Bard, able in lofty Verse
His own great Deeds, and Triumphs to reherse.
Obey'd by all his unresisted Arms,
Shall to their Coasts repel the Danish Swarms:
Into the Seas swept by his potent Hand,
Those Northern Locusts leave th' afflicted Land.
The People his wise Laws shall cultivate,
From their rude Minds, and smooth th' unpolish'd State.
Upon the Verdant Plain, where Isis Streams
Hast to th' Embraces of her Sister Thames:
This mighty Prince shall a fam'd Empire Found,
Where Learning sits with branching Laurels Crown'd,
Where sacred Arts with all their Letter'd Train,
In lofty Schools shall unmolested Reign:
Banish'd from Greece and Rome, no safe Retreat
They'll find, till setled in this Peaceful Seat.
Ages to come, this Seat will Oxford name,
Of which no Time, or Place, shall bound the Fame.
Remotest Nations shall her Wonders know,
Far as Great Britain's potent Navies go.
Learning, her Native growth, shall Strangers fetch,
And taught by her, their own rude Countries teach:
Th' admiring World shall Albion then adore,
Revere her Armies, but her Learning more.
As when the Wisdom of th' Eternal Mind,
Rude Chaos labour'd, and the Mass refin'd;
The scatter'd Rays that wander'd in the Air,
Did to the Sun's capacious Orb repair;
The shining Colonies pour'd thick around,
Here fixt, and did a glorious Empire Found:
So here the broken Beams of glimmering Arts,
Assembling all their Light from distant parts,
To make bright Oxford's Luminary stay,
That o'er the World shall spread Celestial Day.

Remark Elfeda there, a Martial Dame,
That by her Arms shall win Immortal Fame.
At last the Princes of the Saxon Line,
From Heav'nly Love and Purity decline:
Their Christian Virtues, and pure Zeal abate,
And with them sickens their decaying State.
With Christian Names, their Pagan Crimes they keep,
And deaf to Heav'n's loud Threats securely sleep:
Till the fierce Dane sent by supream Command,
A vengeful Scourge does on their Borders Land.
The Saxon's Guardian Angels call'd away,
Leave them to hostile Arms, an easie Prey,
Thus Heav'n afflicts a Land, when Impious grown,
And from their Throne pulls haughty Monarchs down.
This dreadful Curse, shall by relenting Heav'n,
Be soon from sad Britannia's Empire driv'n:
The Cruel, slothful Dane shall soon decline,
To make way for a nobler Norman Line.

That Prince observe, that moves with so much Grace,
Is the great William of the Norman Race:
A mighty Prince, a Leader Brave, and Wise,
Whose towring Fame shall soar above the Skies.
Heav'n does for him Britannia's Crown design,
From which great Stock, shall branch a numerous Line
Of mighty Princes, that shall Rule this Isle,
Enriching it with Conquer'd Nations Spoil.

The Valiant second Henry, see him there,
What Majesty does in his Looks appear?
Through wild Hibernia he shall force his way,
And add four Kingdoms to the British Sway.

Brave Richard see, who from the sacred Coast,
Shall drive the Barb'rous, Unbelieving Host.
In Gaul this Monarch's Arms shall be renown'd,
Dreaded in Battel, and with Conquest Crown'd:
Long time in Peace his Crown might be enjoy'd,
Could he the Arrow at Chaluz avoid.

Now, Son, your Eye to that brave Warriour turn,
Whose Beams so much the Norman Line adorn.
How great a Presence, what a Port he bears?
How much a mighty Conq'rour he appears?
That Prince is Edward, whose Victorious Arms
Judea save from Pagan Foes Alarms.
How he returns thro' the Trinacrian Isle,
Thro' high Parthenope's delicious Soil,
Thro' loud Applauses of admiring Rome,
Reeking in hostile Blood triumphant home!
The beauteous Person next that Monarch seen,
Is Eleonora his Illustrious Queen.
In Storms she's with him on the Ocean tost,
To seek out horrid War on Asia's Coast.
Midst barbarous Arms his Wife, Adviser, Friend,
She his prodigious Labours shall attend.
And when her Lord, so Heav'n permits, shall feel
Within his Veins, the Murd'rer's poison'd Steel:
She to the spreading Plague her Lips applies,
And gives that Ease, which Asia's Balm denies.
Invading Death her healing Kisses charm,
And with new Life the sinking Monarch warm.
No other Prince that in this Age shall reign,
Shall equal Honour to brave Edward's Gain,
But great Adolphus, of th' Illustrious Race
Of Heroes, which the House of Nassau Grace:
This mighty Prince shall gain th' Imperial Sway,
And wide Germania shall his Laws obey.
The God-like Virtues, and Heroick Fire,
That shall the brave Nassovian House inspire,
Shall make Adolphus shine in this high Sphear,
Preluding to the great Deliverer,
The pious William; yonder he's in Sight,
In whom Nassovian Blood, and ours unite.

There war-like Edward stands, that with his Host,
Shall cross the Ocean to the Gallick Coast:
Where he his Conquering Ensigns shall display,
And make the haughty Franks his Laws obey.
There Queen Philippa shines, th' Albanians Dread,
Worthy of Britain's Crown, and Edward's Bed:
While Foreign Kingdoms Edward's Arms subdue;
Hers thro' the North the vanquish'd Scots pursue.
See the Black Prince in Armour by her side,
Proud Gallia's Terrour, and fair Albion's Pride:
What Triumphs wait him in Pictavian Fields?
What never-fading Laurels Croissy yields?

That Henry mark, the glorious Conquerour,
That Gallia shall reduce by Albion's Power.
Immortal Prince, if Arms can make thee so,
For thee in Norman Fields what Laurels grow?
How great he'll seem, his Arms distain'd with Blood,
Chasing the Franks o'er Sein's affrighted Flood!
At Agencourt what Wonders shall be done,
What Towns of Force, what Battels shall be won,
Before in Triumph he ascends their Throne?

Our Blood the Royal Channel now regains,
Deriv'd thro' Tudor our brave Offspring's Veins;
Which with the Norman joyn'd, the Confluent Tide
As long, as that of Time, shall downward glide.
From their Embrace to rule Britannia springs,
A glorious Race of Queens, and potent Kings.
See, the first Tudor that ascends the Throne,
After the glorious Field at Bosworth won:
The Scepter he shall sway with great Applause,
And Rule the Isle with Wise and Equal Laws.
Young Edward there, Albion's Delight, appears
Learn'd, Pious, Manly, Wise above his years.
Then Liberty in all her lovely Charms,
Shall sit secure from Tyranny's Alarms:
Religion purg'd from Rome's Adulterous Stain,
Shall in her pure, and Native Splendor Reign.
No greater Mind to Albion's Crown succeeds,
Rever'd for Brave, and lov'd for Pious Deeds.
Blest Albion, if kind Heav'n would long permit
So great a Monarch, on thy Throne to sit!
But, oh, how short Delights attend him here,
Such Heav'nly Guests are shewn, and disappear:
Dear both to Earth and Heav'n, he'll soon remove
His Throne from hence, to Reign in Bliss above:
With what Complaints, with what despairing Cries,
Shall sad Britannia Mourn his Obsequies?

There, see, the bright Elizabetha rise,
Inlightning with her Rays the British Skies.
Th' Indulgent Parent of her People, she
Loves, Feeds, and Guards Britannia's Family.
Heav'n's and her People's Rights she shall protect,
And for Britannia's Ease, her own neglect:
Her Sons she shall embrace with pious Care,
And from her Coasts send back th' Iberian War.
Blest times, when she that wears th' Imperial Crown,
Regards her Peoples Safety, as her own.

Intently now on that great Monarch gaze,
So much distinguish'd by his brighter Rays:
This is the Man, the brave Nassovian, whom
I nam'd, the great Deliverer to come.
Succeeding Prophets under your great Name,
This our great Offspring shall aloud proclaim;
Rais'd from a noble Branch of Tudor's Line,
From Thamisis transplanted to the Rhine.
Amaz'd Posterity, will scarce believe
The wond'rous Deeds, this Hero shall atchieve.
Th' European World by Rome and Gaul opprest,
By his long-wish'd-for Arms shall be releast.
He'll far out-shine his own Heroick Race,
Europe's Protectors, who shall Tyrants chase,
And Monsters vanquish with Herculean Toil,
And rescue from their bloody Jaws, their Spoil.
The beardless Hero's first victorious Arms,
Shall free his Country from the Gauls Alarms:
As he advances, Seas of Gallick Blood,
Shall with red Streams, swell Mosa's wondring Flood:
Their slaughter'd Ranks shall lie along the Rhine,
And with strange Purple stain th' astonish'd Vine.

For in this Age,
Just Heav'n shall cause a haughty Prince to rise,
Cruel, as Lucifer, and like him wise.
Heav'n's Laws, and Power, the Tyrant shall deride,
Breaking in Sport, the Oaths wherewith he's ti'd.
Th' insatiate Monster pleas'd with humane Gore,
And urg'd with Hellish Rage, shall first devour
His Gallick Slaves, and with a merc'less Hand,
Spread fearful Ruin o'er his fruitful Land.
Raging with Fire and Sword, he shall invade
His Neighbour's Cities, to his Gold betray'd.
No Spoil, no Carnage, shall his Fury cloy,
But drunk with Blood, he shall around destroy,
Like spreading Fires, or Torrents roaring down,
From melting Snows, that all the Vally drown.
Like Hell, he shall derive his chiefest Joy,
From the divine Permission to destroy.
Mischief and Ruin, he shall Conquest name,
And from Destruction raise a dismal Fame.
Regions laid wast, Orphans and Widows Cries,
Proclaim his Power, and barb'rous Victories.
So dire a Plague, shall Heav'n permit to reign,
To scourge the impious World, but to restrain
The savage Spoiler, shall this Prince employ;
Monsters grow up, for Heroes to destroy.
The valiant Youth sinking Batavia saves,
Their surest Digue against the Gallick Waves.
After opprest Britannia shall invite,
The fam'd Deliverer to assert her Right.
His Arms the lowring Tempest shall dispel,
Which threatning Albion, rolls from Rome and Hell:
Fair Liberty her drooping Head shall rear,
And blest Religion on her Throne appear.
His Reign fresh Life to Albion shall impart,
And teach her Sons War's long-forgotten Art.
Britons dissolv'd in soft, inglorious Ease,
In courtly Vices, and luxurious Peace,
He shall inspire with a new martial Flame,
And lead them on, to gain their Ancient Fame.
Now Albion's Youth polish their rusty Arms,
And once more, Gallia dreads their loud Alarms:
Victorious Britons, as of old, shall come
Laden with Spoils, and crown'd with Laurels, home.

He ceas'd; but near the great Nassovian stood
A Heroine, by mien of Royal Blood.
Her Form Divine, and Seraph-like her Face,
Where Heav'nly Sweetness, strove with Princely Grace.
But a black Cloud on her fair Temples lies,
And on the ground she fixt her beauteous Eyes.
Prince Arthur on th' Illustrious Form Intent,
Ask'd who she was, and what the Sadness meant,
That her dejected Eyes did overspread,
What the thick Mist that hover'd round her Head.

King Uter with Reluctance thus replies,
While flowing Tears gush'd from his mournful Eyes:
Ah, Son, demand no more their Fates to know,
That must produce such universal Woe.
Telling that Offspring's Story, I reveal
A Scene of Grief, I labour'd to conceal.
This Wonder to the World, as soon as shown,
Is taken up to her Celestial Throne.
Ah! what sad Accents, what a mournful Cry,
What lamentable Sounds will fill the Sky,
When her high Herse, shall from her Palace go
Thro' weeping Throngs, in all the Pomp of Woe?
So sad a Cry did wondring Nile affright,
When Egypt's first-born Youth were slain by Night.
What Strains of Sorrow will Augusta show?
What Floods of Tears, sad Thamisis, will flow
Into thy Stream, while gliding by the Dome,
Where fresh erected stands her lofty Tomb.
Son, mind her Presence, what a God-like Air?
What Throngs of Graces in her Eyes appear?
No nobler Genius, no well fashion'd Mind
E'er took a Turn more happily design'd,
From an Etherial Mould more labour'd and refin'd.
Mild as the blest above, without serene
As Eden's Air, and calm as Heav'n within.
No lovelyer Star adorns the British Sphear,
Ah! might she longer in her Orb appear,
That her Celestial Influence might Flow
In chearing Streams on all the Isle below!
New warmth to Albion her kind Beams afford,
To Albion guarded, as before restor'd,
By the Nassovian Angel's flaming Sword.
My fairest Offspring! ah, her rigid Doom!
She shall Maria be: Come, quickly come,
Bring me white Lillies, Roses newly blown,
Lillies and Roses, like Maria's own:
These on her Herse I'll scatter, and perfume
With od'rous Herbs and Flowers, the precious Tomb.
Let me my Sorrow thus express, 'tis true,
A fruitless Deed, but all that Love can do.

The Tides of Grief that here swell'd Arthur's Breast,
Broke Sleep's soft Fetters, and dissolv'd his Rest:
The Airy Objects, that without did wait,
Now rush in by the Senses open Gate.
His waking Thought, the wondrous Scene reviews,
And various Passions in his Mind renews.