 | Boadicia |  |
SCENE the first.
Flaminius and Ænobarbus.Flaminius.
Our lovely guide attends us. Thy impatience
Hath call'd me loit'rer.
Ænobarbus.
Thou mayst loiter still.
Thou canst not hasten, nor retard our fate,
Which is irrevocably fix'd.
Flaminius.
What say'st thou?
Ænobarbus.
I say, prepare to die. If Boadicia
Return once more, our destiny is fix'd.
Whate'er her merciless revenge may purpose,
Elate with conquest, or incens'd by loss,
If on the rack to strain our bursting sinews,
If from the bleeding trunks to lop our limbs,
Or with slow fires protract the hours of pain,
We must abide it all. Collect thy spirit,
And, like a Roman, dauntless wait thy doom.
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I hear thee, but thy meaning—
Ænobarbus.
Hear again.
Before the tent some paces as I stood,
And joyful saw the Trinobantian guard,
Of us neglectful, from this quarter drawn
To view th'impending battle; on a sudden
A curs'd Icenian cast his jealous eye
Athwart my steps, then call'd a num'rous band,
Who prowl around us, as a destin'd prey.
Flaminius.
Malicious fortune!
Ænobarbus.
Now that seest my meaning.
Flaminius.
Our flight were vain, while these observe us.
Ænobarbus.
True.
What has thy tame submission now avail'd,
Thy abject supplication to barbarians?
Hadst thou with courage met thy fate at first,
We had been dead, ere now.
Flaminius.
To view the sun
Thro' his gay progress from the morn, till even,
Possess my friends, my parents, and my love
Within the circle of my native walls
Were joys, I deem'd well worthy of my care;
But since that care is fruitless, I can leave
This light, my friends, my parents, love, and country,
As little daunted at my fate, as thou,
Tho' not so unconcern'd.
Ænobarbus.
O Mars and Vesta!
Is it a vision, which you raise before me
To charm my eyes? Behold a scene, Flaminius,
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The Britons are defeated; look, Flaminius;
Back from the vale in wild tumultuous flight
Behold their numbers sweeping tow'rd the hill;
Already some are swarming up its side
To reach their camp for shelter; pale dismay
With hostile rage pursue their broken rear,
While massacre, unchidden, cloys his famine,
And quaffs the blood of nations. O in vain
Dost thou oppose thy bosom to the tide
Of war, and brandish that recover'd standard;
Vain is thy animating voice to those,
Whom fear makes deaf; O Dumnorix, thy toils
Are fruitless, Britain in the scale of fate
Yields to the weight of Rome. Now, life, farewell:
Shine on, bright Phœbus, those, who rest behind
To share thy splendours, while I sink in darkness,
Are far beneath my envy; I resign
These eyes with pleasure to eternal shades,
They now have seen enough.
Flaminius.
Whence this despair?
A blind confusion fills the spacious camp.
Already consternation hath dispers'd
Our guard. Ev'n Dumnorix retires—He comes;
Avoid him—Trust me, I am well instructed,
And will conduct thee to a safe retreat
| Boadicia | |