Milton's Paradise Lost Imitated in Rhyme In the Fourth, Sixth and Ninth Books; Containing The Primitive Loves. The Battel of the Angels. The Fall of Man. By Mr. John Hopkins |
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 | Milton's Paradise Lost Imitated in Rhyme |  |
57
BELLONA AND ASTREA.
[_]
Speakers' names have been abbreviated in this text. The abbreviations used for major characters are as follows:
- For Ast. read Astrea.
- For Bell. read Bellona.
Bellona , stay, forsake not Albion's Shore,
Tho' now thou Rav'st in horrid Arms no more.
The Conquest mine, mine should the Triumph be,
By thy own Victories I vanquish'd thee.
Throw not thy Helmet by, nor drop thy Shield,
Be thou Astræa's Champion in the Field,
For I am Ravish'd if Bellona Yield.
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Still must I range along the burthen'd Plains,
Must I still Fright Brittannia's harrass'd Swains?
Beneath my Tread no smiling Corn will Grow,
All will be Barren where my Sword shall Plow.
Detain me not, or keep me Bound your Slave;
You may in time Repent the Power you Gave.
[Ast.]
With fierce Embrace Bellona was pursu'd,
You Nassaw ravish'd, but Astrea woo'd.
Tho' now his Bride, still I'm his Mistress too,
Only to Yield to me, he Vanquish'd you.
When thy large Veins are Swell'd, all's Ravag'd far;
And I too Triumph in the Spoyls of War.
Sheath thy strong Sword, but Sheath it at thy Side,
Be thou the Guard of Albion, I the Guide.
Secure of reaping, labouring Hinds shall Sow,
Corn with no Burthen, but its own, shall bow;
And it shall never fall Unripen'd now.
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And, gently bowing, Court the Reaper's hand.
Ceres shall pregnant Golden Crops afford,
The Rustick hook edg'd by the Souldier's Sword,
[Bell.]
Rather my Troopsturn Shephards peacefull swains,
And where they Conquer'd, now Manure the Plains.
At work, the Hinds of Foes shall hear them tell,
Thus, thus, they Struck, and thus the others Fell.
How did Rome's great Dictator Quinctius bow.
He stoop'd to Fight, but Triumph'd to the Plow.
How did bold Cadmus Till the patient Earth,
And to a warlike Troop give suddain Birth;
So may my Forces make kind Tellus bear,
And, when Occasion serves, start up to War.
[Ast.]
Must then the fam'd Brittannia's glory sleep,
And Men who sought like Lyons, look to Sheep.
60
Must Souldiers boast to Hinds, and only boast.
The mighty Rustick's fame too far you Spread,
Who chose to Plow rather than Fight for Bread.
Of Cadmus army sprung from Earth you tell;
Think, how that Earth-born Army quickly fell.
The grov'ling Heroes, not inur'd to Foes,
Serv'd but to fat those Furrows, whence they rose.
Peasants unus'd to the Alarms of War,
Rather would Dye at home, than Conquer far.
Let every Artist have his Task assign'd,
The fruitfull Earth be harrow'd by the Kind,
Let Seamen steer, and watch the changing Wind.
In his own Element give each his right,
Let Tradesmen gain, and let the souldier Fight.
[Bell.]
But now the sound of Thund'ring Battel's o're,
Soft Peace flows in, let Souldiers be no more.
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Dwell you in slumbers, free'd from Warlike toyl;
Smile on your flow'ry Lawns, and fragrant Meads,
All must be Happy where Astræa treads.
[Ast.]
The mighty Chief, who triumph'd o're the Ball,
Kept up those Armies who had Vanquish'd all.
Allways in Posture to resist a Foe,
So he Gain'd conquests, he Maintain'd them So.
They, whom no Quarrells, no disputes divide,
Bear still their faithfull Guardian at their side.
They who give no Affront, fear no abuse,
Wear Swords for ornament, if not for use,
This all Brittannia's happy Sons confess,
And is her Safety or her Honour less.
Can there be one among Astrea's Friends,
Who slights his Country, yet himself Defends.
Stay then, Bellona, under my command,
Thou art more safe than in a Forreign Land.
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Might sue too late, and Pray in vain for Yours.
Should you Insult Brittannia's Peacefull shore,
How should I Court what I had Scorn'd before!
O Albion, happy in your Pow'r remain,
Prise high your Nassaw's his Astrea's raign.
Confide in him! That's sure the Least you owe,
And he who Sav'd you, your Defence shall grow.
Reward his Souldiers for their Manly toyl.
Crown them with Plenty on their Native soyl.
Next to their Chief, load them, with Honours too,
What could not Brittons led by Nassaw, do.
Who, Mighty Prince! can Trace thy Actions o're,
Heaven still contrives to make thy Blessings more,
Thou now Confirm'st what thou hadst given before.
The Guift encreasing seems for ever new,
To You from Heav'n Insur'd, to Us from you.
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And keep not Gallia but the World in awe,
Thy pow'rs in Arms; what Mortall Foe shall dare
Disturb their Peace, who can at will, make War.
Wise is thy rule, as Neptune's o're the Seas,
You who Calm'd storms would never Tempests raise.
No vengefull Thunder unprovok'd will Fly,
Tho' still 'tis Temper'd in the gloomy Sky.
When Earth's proud Sons Olympus did invade,
Heav'n had been Sack'd, had not Jove's bolts been Made
FINIS.
| Milton's Paradise Lost Imitated in Rhyme | |