 | The Tragedy of Sertorius |  |
SCENE III.
Tribunius, Crown'd with Laurel, attended with Aquinius bound, and Prisoners, &c.Trib.
Hail, great Sertorius; Hail, thou mighty man
VVhom Gods, in absence, fight for! thus adorn'd,
We greet thy Genius; and here offer up
These Laureate Wreaths, appropriate to thee.
Sert.
So Arm'd, so Crown'd, the Roman Senate fought,
When the rough Sabines did invade their Rule,
Trib.
Five Legions fell beneath our conqu'ring Swords,
Secur'd by Fate: Nor could Metellus help;
His rage was vain. So Surges dash to Air,
'Gainst Rocks opposing. Like the Giants fix'd,
We bore his Charge, and prest him fiercely on:
When brave Aquinius, to compleat the day,
Bedy'd in gore, compass'd with num'rous Foes,
Fell, with the number of his Wounds, our Captive
So angry Bores their Tushes whet in vain,
Fume oft, as oft assay'd, as did their Chiefs
When old Metellus sounded the Retreat:
And, e're the setting Sun adorn'd the East,
And on our Banners darted his bright Rayes,
Our Friends, immur'd for many months, were free:
Broke was the Roman Camp; and left behind
6
Forsook by haste, as Trophies we have ta'ne.
Sert.
The Sword of Justice has a vast extent,
Is mov'd by Heav'n, and guided sure by Time,
Whose Sythe's not keener; there Astrea views
The Crimes of Earth, and pours her vengeance forth:
While the just Arms are Crown'd with Victory.
What can Aquinius say, to calm our rage?
Can Rome's ambition never quiet know?
Or must she restless as those Atoms be
Which the fierce Winds subject unto their Rule?
If so, by blood we must appease the slain;
And think our selves, as by the Gods, set forth
To kill this second Python of the World.
Aquin.
Curs'd be the man, that, to the Roman name,
Dares blemish Honour with the thought of fear:
I superate it; and, like Sylla, am
When most endanger'd, most a Roman Chief:
Bred in his Cause, and nourish'd in his Arms,
Fill'd with the glories of his mighty deeds,
He wan me to him. Let severest Fate
Speak loud her Doom; to hear I stand unmov'd:
For, if I fall, Sylla will 'venge my death;
The brave Metellus, or fierce Pompey, shall
Offer a Sacrifice to still my Ghost.
Sert.
Spoke like a Roman; gallantly and bold.
But that I scorn to soil my fame with blood,
Here thou should'st fall; then let thy Ghost complain
To barbarous Sylla for redress: Did he,
Sided by Pompey, fenc'd by old Metellus,
The two supporters of this lofty Oak,
Dare meet me face to face, and stand my Ire;
Like angry Jove, I'd rive him to the waist,
Spight of his Shields unto his heart convey
This fatal Steel. Haste; tell the Boy, I wait
To scourge his rashness. Let Metellus know,
If he dares meet us, he shall feel again
The Thunder of this arm upon his Cask:
And need a Shield of Vulcan's tempering,
To guard this deadly weapon from his heart.
7
Where Death shall glut upon the bodies slain:
And all the Furies, gorg'd with Roman gore,
Grow fat with Slaughter, and press down the Earth
With humane weight. O that it were my Fate
To meet this Pompey, Rome's Anteus, now:
Like Hercules, I'd grasp him in my arms,
And make his Tyrant rue his forward heat!
Aquin.
Thou shalt be fought with, if not foil'd, Sertorius,
The chance of War may leave thee destitute,
And us adorn: then, in the brunt of Arms,
I'll court thy sight; and on thy Casket pay
A Roman thanks, for Liberty and Life.
Sert.
Guard well the last; for, by our Gods, I swear,
Or thee, or I, will measure out the ground
If e're we meet. Conduct him on the way,
Which gives a birth to Fate, and mighty deeds.
[Ex. Aquin.
But the Celestial Pow'rs have left their Heav'n,
And fill the Temples with their Deities:
'Tis Incense they expect, and Sacrifice.
You four Patricians shall attend on me,
Clad in the Garb of Numa's Pontifies,
While I officiate Maximus to Jove:
With heaps of Spice, we'll cloud the Altars round;
Seven Heifers offer, beautiful and young,
To Jupiter the Stayer. Hence, my Friends;
See all things ready for the Sacrifice.
[Exeunt.
| The Tragedy of Sertorius | |