 | Boadicia |  |
47
ACT V.
SCENE the First.
Venusia.A hollow sound of tumult strikes my ear;
Perhaps the howl of some night-roaming wolves,
Who, wak'd by hunger, from their gloomy haunts
Are trooping forth to make their fell repast
On my fresh-bleeding countrymen, whose limbs
O'erspread the valley. Shall I mourn your fall,
Lost friends, who, couch'd in death, forget your cares,
I, who may shortly join your ghastly band,
Unless that forest yield its friendly aid?
O hope, sweat flatt'rer, whose delusive touch
Sheds on afflicted minds the balm of comfort,
Relieves the load of poverty, sustains
The captive, bending with the weight of bonds,
And smooths the pillow of disease and pain,
Send back th'exploring messenger with joy,
And let me hail thee from that friendly grove.
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SCENE the second.
Venusia and Dumnorix.Dumnorix.
Why hast thou left thy couch;
Venusia.
I heard a sound,
Like tumult at a distance.
Dumnorix.
So did I,
As near the op'ning pass I stood to watch
Our messenger's return.
SCENE the third.
Venusia, Dumnorix, and Ebrancus.Dumnorix
to Ebrancus.
What means this haste?
Why lookst thou pale?
Ebrancus.
With thy instructions charg'd,
I sought th'Icenian quarter. All around
Was solitude and silence. When I call'd,
No voice reply'd. To Boadicia's tent
With fearful haste I trod. Her daughters there
I found in consternation. I enquir'd
The cause, they answer'd only with their tears;
Till from the princess Emmeline at last
I learn'd, that all th'Icenains were that hour
In silent march departed; but their course
She could not tell me: that her furious mother
Had with a fell, determin'd, look enjoin'd them
To wait her pleasure, which should soon be known;
Mean time to rest immoveable and mute.
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SCENE the fourth.
Venusia, Dumnorix, Ebrancus, and an Icenian carrying a bowl.Venusia.
My Dumnorix, defend me.
Dumnorix.
Ha! what means
This wild demeanour—willt thou speak, Icenian?—
Fear not my love; thy Dumnorix is near.
What is that bowl, thou carry'st?
Icenian.
If ought appears disorder'd in my gesture,
Which ill becomes the reverence, I owe thee,
Charge that demerit to my horrid errand,
And not to me.
Venusia.
What will befal us now!
Dumnorix
to the Icenian.
Willt thou begin?
Icenian.
I come from Boadicia.
Dumnorix.
Where is she?
Icenian.
Far advanc'd o'er yonder vale.
Dumnorix.
With what intention?
Icenian.
To assail the Romans.
Dumnorix.
Assail the Romans?
Icenian.
To surprize their camp
At this dead hour with unexpected slaughter.
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In words, like these, she gave. “Observe our course;
“When I have pass'd the camp's extremest verge
“Back to my daughters and Venusia speed:
“Tell them, I go our fortune to restore,
“If unsuccessful never to return.
“Should that stern doom attend me, bid them take
“The last, best gift, which dying I can leave them;
“That of my blood no part may prove dishonour'd.
“The Trinobantian, of his Roman friends
“So well deserving, may accept their grace.”
This said with wild emotion in her breast,
Her visage black'ning with despair and horrour,
She streight committed to my trembling hands
Two fatal bowls, which flow with poison'd streams.
I have accomplish'd half my horrid task
With Boadicia's daughters.
Dumnorix.
Frantic woman!
Who hopes with fury and despair to match
The vigilance and conduct of Suetonius.
Icenian.
From this ill-fated hand receive the draught,
Whose hue and odour warrant it the juice
Of that benumbing plant, the Druids gather.;
That plant, whose drowsy moisture lulls the sense,
And with a silent influence expels
The unresisting spirit from her seat.
Dumnorix.
Mistaken woman! did she deem Venusia
Was unprovided of this friendly potion—
Perform thy orders; bear it to my tent—
Thou mayst not want it yet—take comfort, love.
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SCENE the fifth.
Venusia, Dumnorix, Ebrancus, and a second Icenian.Second Icenian.
Oh! Dumnorix.
Dumnorix.
Icenian, spare thy voice.
Thy flight, thy terrour, and thy wounds interpret
Too plainly.
Second Icenain.
We are vanquish'd.
Dumnorix.
I believe thee.
Second Icenian.
Oh! I have much to tell thee—but I faint.
Dumnorix
to Ebrancus.
Conduct him hence, and learn the whole event.
SCENE the sixth.
Venusia and Dumnorix.Venusia.
On you, celestial arbiters, we call.
Now, as we stand environ'd by distress,
Now weigh our actions past, deform'd, or fair.
If e'er oppression hath defil'd his valour,
In help and pity to the woes of others
Our hearts been scanty, and our hands reserv'd,
Let our transgressions ratify our doom:
Else with your justice let our merits plead
To hold its shield before us, and repel
These undeserv'd misfortunes.
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Heav'n may hear,
And through that forest lead us still to safety.
Ha! no; each pow'r against us is combin'd;
What but their anger, levell'd at our heads,
Could bring Tenantius back, so strictly charg'd
To seek our home—The intercepting foes
Have seiz'd the secret pass.
Venusia.
Whose guarian care
Now to the gloomy shelter of a desart,
To solitary innocence and peace
Will guide our friendless orphans?
Dumnorix.
True, Venusia.
Through ev'ry trial heav'n is pleas'd to lead us.
Droop not—one comfort never can forsake us.
The mind, to virtue train'd, in ev'ry state
Rejoicing, grieving, dying, must possess
Th'exalted pleasure to exert that virtue.
SCENE the seventh.
Venusia, Dumnorix, and Tenantius.Venusia.
Speak, speak, Tenantius.
Tenantius.
We pursu'd our course,
But had not travell'd far, before we heard
The sound of footsteps, dashing through the brook,
Whose winding channel marks the secret way.
Not long we stood in wonder, ere a troop
Of Romans sally'd forth, and made us captives.
Dumnorix.
Why then farewell to what was left of hope.
Tenantius.
Not so my lord.
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Speak; what resource is left?
Tenantius.
We were conducted to the Roman leaders,
One fierce and haughty, gentler far the other,
Who calm'd his stern companion, gave us comfort,
Nam'd thee with rev'rence, then an earnest zeal
Disclosing for thy safety, and requesting
A short, but friendly conference between you,
With courtesy dismiss'd us.
Venusia.
Is he near?
Tenantius.
Hard by he waits impatient for an answer,
Just where the pass is open to the tent.
Dumnorix.
What would the Roman?
Venusia.
Hasten back Tenantius,
And say, that Dumnorix consents to parley.
Dumnorix.
Ha! trust our freedom in a Roman's pow'r?
Tenantius.
Unarm'd and single will the Roman join thee.
Dumnorix.
O ineffectual effort!
Venusia.
Only see him,
If but to parley for thy children's safety.
Weak, as I am, unequal to these conflicts,
I would embrace destruction, ere request thee
Once to comply with ought below thy greatness.
Dumnorix.
Let him approach.
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SCENE the eighth.
Venusia, Dumnorix and Ebrancus.Dumnorix.
What hast thou learnt, my soldier?
Ebrancus.
Like ours, th'Icenian force is all destroy'd.
Dumnorix.
And Boadicia?
Ebrancus.
Nought of her I know,
But that she found the Roman host embattled,
Which she had fondly deem'd immers'd in sleep.
Dumnorix.
And so is fall'n a victim to her folly.
Retire.
SCENE the ninth.
Venusia, Dumnorix, Tenantius, and Flaminius.Tenantius
to Flaminius.
Thy helmet, cast aside, restores thee
To my remembrance, Lo! thy benefactors.
Flaminius.
Brave Domnorix!
Dumnorix.
My captive!
Flaminius.
Yes, Flaminius,
Who owes to thy humanity his life.
Dumnorix.
Where hast thou hid thee from my notice, rather
Whence now return'st, ennobled with command,
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Flaminius.
Amid the tumult of your late defeat
We sought th'adjacent forest; thence we pass'd
The vale below and reach'd the Roman tents.
Dumnorix.
And now are masters o our late retreat.—
Had I been cruel, Britain had been safe.
Flaminius.
Was this an act unworthy of a soldier?
Dumnorix.
Our woes are all the progeny of folly,
Not charg'd to thee or fortune.
Venusia.
Heav'n well pleas'd
Perhaps ordain'd this unforeseen event,
That our benevolence to brave Flaminius
Its due return of gratitude should find.
Flaminius.
The life, you gave me, to your mutual welfare
I here devote. My influence, my pow'r,
My thoughts, my care to soften your afflictions,
Shall all combine. Surrender to your friend,
Before Suetonius with his legions pours
On your defenceless camp, who long in arms
Hath stood, expecting the appointed signal,
Which he enjoin'd us with the dawn to rear.
Dumnorix.
Though thou didst well, accepting life from me,
That gift from thee must Dumnorix refuse.
Flaminius.
Thou willt not rob my gratitude of pow'r
To shew, how well thy goodness was bestow'd.
Dumnorix.
Thou canst not shew it. If thou sav'st my life,
Canst thou from bonds protect me and a triumph?
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Alas! I cannot.
Dumnorix.
Wouldst thou see me led
A sullen captive, and through haughty Rome
Inglorious count my paces to the clink
Of my own chains? this faithful woman too—
Venusia.
Like thee, disdains a being so preserv'd.
Flaminius.
O let me water with my tears your feet!
If ev'ry drop, which issues from my heart,
Could from the doom, you justly scorn, secure you,
Before you now the purple sluice should open.
Yet let my knees in humblest adoration
Before such elevated virtue bend.
O godlike Britons, my acknowledg'd patrons
And benefactors; if my soul retain not
Your memory for ever dear and sacred;
May disappointment, poverty and shame
Deform my life, and pining sickness close
My youthful eyes untimely in the grave.
Dumnorix.
Thou seem'st of all the Romans to possess
A heart, which feels for others. Rise, and hear.
Though we reject the wretched boon of life,
Thou may'st, Flaminius, yet repay our bounty.
Flaminius.
Then will I ask no other grace from heav'n.
Dumnorix.
We have two children.
Venusia.
O my bleeding heart!
My poor, deserted infants, whom these arms
No more must cherish, nor my lulling voice
Hush in the quiet of my sheltring bosom!
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aside.
Yet shall not this unman me. I will feel
A father's anguish, but conceal the pain.
To Flam.
Know then, I meant this faithful friend, Tenantius,
Should traverse yonder wood, and bear my sons
Far from these borders to extremest north,
Where they might dwell secure, nor share the ills,
Doom'd to their parents. Willt thou let him pass?
Flaminius.
I will, and Jove be witness to my word.
Dumnorix.
Give thy last charge, Venusia, to Tenantius.
One word apart with thee, my Roman friend.
As thou art gen'rous, answer me with truth.
When willt thou make thy signal?
Flaminius.
At the dawn,
Whose beams though faint already tinge the east.
Dumnorix.
What time will bring your legions near this tent.
Flaminius.
An hour at farthest.
Dumnorix.
I have heard, Flaminius,
Of your forefathers' spirit, how they fell
Oft on their swords to shun ignoble bondage;
This part have we to act: and, friendly Roman,
When thou shallt see our cold remains—my own
Are little worth attention—Oh! remember
Venusia's goodness, and her gentle clay
Defend from shame and insult.
Flaminius.
Thou dost pierce
My heart—I cannot answer—but believe
These tears sincere.
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Enough. Perform thy promise.
Thy obligations will be then discharg'd.
Farewell. Fulfill thy gen'ral's commands.
SCENE the tenth.
Venusia, Dumnorix, and Tenantius.Venusia
to Tenantius.
Thou future parent of my orphan babes,
Soon as their gen'rous minds imbibe thy precepts,
And thy example warms their budding virtues,
Do not forget to tell them, that no perils,
Nor death in all its terrours can efface
Maternal love; that their ill-fated mother
Amid this awful season of distress
Wept, but for them, and lost her fears in fondness.
Dumnorix.
We have been long companions, brave Tenantius,
Thy leader I, once fortunate and great,
And thou my faithful and intrepid soldier.
Nay, do not weep—we have not time for wailing.
By thy approv'd fidelity and love
Thy chief, just ent'ring death's unfolded gates,
Stops, and once more conjures thee to retain
This his last charge in memory—his children.
SCENE the eleventh.
Venusia and Dumnorix.Dumnorix.
The fun is ris'n. All hail! thou last of days
To this nigh-finish'd being. Radiant pow'r,
Thou through thy endless journey mayst proclaim,
That Dumnorix dy'd free, for thou shallt view it.
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Just as Flaminius warn'd us, is appear'd
To call Suetonius, and his legions on.
Come, desolation, tyranny resort
To thy new seat; come, slavery, and bend
The neck of Albion, all her sons debase,
And ancient virtue from their hearts expel.
Now then, ye honour'd mansions of our fathers,
Ye hallow'd altars, and ye awful groves,
The habitation of our gods, farewell!
And yet the guilty auth'ress of these woes
Deserves a share of praise, who, still retaining
One unextinguish'd spark of gen'rous honour,
Scorn'd to remain spectatress, or partaker
Of Albion's fall, and, dying, still is free.
Need I say more, Venusia?
Venusia.
Oh! my lord.
Dumnorix.
Why heaves that sigh?
Venusia.
Alas! I am a woman.
Dumnorix.
True, a defenceless woman, and expos'd
To keener sorrow by thy matchless beauty;
That charm, which captivates the victor's eye,
Yet helpless to withstand his savage force,
Throws wretched woman under double ruin.
But wherefore this? Thy virtue knows its duty.
Venusia.
Stay but a little.
Dumnorix.
aside.
Would I might for years!
But die that thought—False tenderness, away.
Thou British genius, who art now retiring
From this lost region, yet suspend thy flight;
And in this conflict lend me all thy spirit—
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Well, my Venusia; is thy soul resolv'd?
Or shall I still afford a longer pause?
Venusia.
Though my weak sex by nature is not arm'd
With fortitude, like thine, of this be sure;
That dear subjection to thy honour'd will,
Which hath my life directed, ev'n in death
Shall not forsake me; and thy faithful wife
Shall with obedience meet thy last commands.
But canst thou tell me; is it hard to die?
Dumnorix.
Oh! rather ask me, if to live in shame,
Captivity and sorrow be not hard?
Venusia.
Oh! miserable!
Dumnorix.
In a foreign land
The painful toils of servitude to bear
From an imperious mistress?
Venusia.
Dreadful thought!
Dumnorix.
Or be insulted with the hateful love
Of some proud master?
Venusia.
Oh! proceed
No further!
Dumnorix.
From thy native seat of dwelling,
From all the known endearments of thy home,
From parents, children, friends and—husband torn.
Venusia.
Stop there, and reach the potion; nor to drink
The cure of troubles will I longer pause.
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SCENE the twelfth.
Venusia.For ev'ry pass'd possession of delight,
Both in my offspring, and their godlike sire,
A dying matron bends her grateful knee,
Ye all disposing pow'rs! as now these blessings
Must reach their period, to my sons transfer
That copious goodness, I have shar'd so long!
Through my resigning soul that promise breathe,
And my last moments comfort thus with peace!
SCENE the thirteenth.
Venusia and Dumnorix with a bowl.Dumnorix
aside, seeing Venusia on her knees.
Now resolution, now be doubly arm'd
[He gives her the bowl and she drinks.
Now stand awhile before the fanning breeze.
So with its subtle energy the potion,
Less rudely stealing on the pow'rs of life,
Will best perform its office to remove
Pain, fear and grief for ever from thy breast.
How dost thou fare, Venusia?
Venusia.
I perceive
No alteration. Every sense remains
Yet unimpair'd. Then while these moments last,
Let me on thee direct my eyes to gaze,
While unobstructed still their sight endures;
Let me receive thee to my faithful bosom,
Before my heart is motionless and cold:
Speak to me, Dumnorix! my lord! my husband!
Give one kind accent to thy dying wife,
Ere yet my ears be frozen, and thy voice
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While I can feel thy last and tend'rest kisses.
Dumnorix.
Yes, I will utter to thy dying ear
All my fond heart, sustain thee on my bosom,
And cheer thy parting spirit in its flight.
Oh! wherefoe'er thy fleeting breath shall pass,
Whate'er new body, as the Druids sing,
Thou shalt inform hereafter, still thy soul,
Thou gentle, kind, and ever-pleasing creature;
Shall bear its own felicity along,
Still in its native sweetness shall be bless'd,
And in its virtue, which can thus subdue
The fear of death, still brave the pow'r of fortune.
But thou beginst to droop.
Venusia.
My eyes grow dizzy.
Dumnorix
aside.
Keep firm, my heart.
Venusia.
A heaviness, like sleep,
O'ercomes my senses—Every limb is faint—
Thy voice is scarce distinguish'd in my ears.
Dumnorix.
Indeed!
Venusia.
Alas! thou lookst so kindly on me!
My weak, and darken'd sight deceives me sure,
Or thy fond eye did never yet o'erflow
With tenderness, like this.
Dumnorix.
I never view'd thee
For the last time.
Venusia.
Look, look upon me still
Why dost thou turn thy face away?
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For nothing.
Venusia.
Nay, thou art weeping, Dumnorix—and wherefore
Wouldst thou conceal thy tears?
Dumnorix.
I cannot hide them.
Venusia.
And dost thou weep?
Dnmnorix.
I do.
Venusia.
Then didst thou love me
With such excess of fondness.—For Venusia
Do these soft streams bedew that awful face?
Dumnorix.
Love thee! Behold, when Albion groans around me,
Yet thou these springs of tenderness canst open
To wet the cheeks of British Dumnorix.
Venusia.
Oh! extacy! which stops my parting soul,
And gives it vigour to enjoy these transports.
Once more receive me to thy breast.
Dumnorix.
Venusia!
Venusia.
Thy tenderness makes death delightful to me—
Oh! I would speak—would answer to thy kindness—
My fault'ring tongue—
Dumnorix.
What sayst thou?
Venusia.
Cease to grieve—
No pain molests me—ev'ry thought is calm—
Support my drowsy burthen to that couch—
Where death—serenely smiles.
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SCENE the fourteenth.
Flaminiusspeaking to the Romans behind the Scene.
My warlike friends,
Keep back—out troops on ev'ry side advance.
I cannot long controll them. Yet I tremble
To enter there—By heav'n he lives, and sees me.
SCENE the fifteenth.
Flaminius and Dumnorix his sword drawn.Dumnorix.
Importunate Flaminius! Art thou come
To rob my dying moments of their quiet?
Flaminius.
Forgive the crime of ignorance—Forgive,
Since accident hath join'd us once again,
If strong compassion at thy fate yet pleads—
Dumnorix.
What, when Venusia is no more?
Flaminius.
No more!
Dumnorix.
No; and be further lesson'd by a Briton,
Who since his union with the best of women
Hath never known an interval from love,
And at this solemn pause yet melts in fondness:
While death's black curtain shrouds my cold Venusia,
Of dearer value doth my soul esteem her,
Than should those eyes rekindle into lustre,
And ev'ry charm revive with double pow'r
Of winning beauty, if alone to shine
Amid the gloom of bondage.
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I will urge
No more—farewel—our legions hover nigh.
SCENE the sixteenth.
Dumnorix.Now in my breast resume thy wonted seat,
Thou manly firmness, which so oft has borne me
Through ev'ry toil and danger. O return,
Rise o'er my sorrow, and compleat thy last,
Thy highest task, to close a life of glory—
They come—Be swift, my sword—By thee to fall,
Near that dear clay extended, best becomes
A soldier's courage, and a husband's love.
SCENE the last.
Ænobarbus, Flaminius, and Romans.Ænobarbus.
To Boadicia's quarter I advanc'd
At thy request, who since her last defeat,
Blind with despair and disappointed fury,
Fled to her tent; expiring there I found her
With one ill-fated daughter, both by poison:
Nor had the friendly Emmeline escap'd,
But by the swift prevention of my hand.
Dost thou not thank me, whose suggestion prompted
Our quick return to seize the secret pass?
Thou gav'st me freedom; love and fame repay thee.
Flaminius.
If thou couldst add, that Dumnorix surviv'd?
Ænobarbus
looking into tent.
Thou seest, the Gods have otherwise decreed.
Forbear to mingle vain regret with conquest.
He hath done nobly. Fair befal his urn.
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Had forfeited to Rome, with all the praise,
Now from the virtuous to his ashes due.
Flaminius.
Then art thou fall'n at last, thou mighty tow'r,
And more than Roman edifice of glory?
See too Venusia, pale in death's embrace,
Presents her faded beauties. Lovely ruin!
Of ev'ry grace and virtue once the seat,
The last kind office from my hand receive,
Which shall unite thee to thy husband's side,
And to one grave your mingling reliques trust.
There soon a hallow'd monument shall rise.
Insculptur'd laurel with the myrtle twin'd,
The well-wrought stone adorning, shall proclaim
His gen'rous valour, and thy faithful love.
End of the last act.
| Boadicia | |