University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

Arminius, Veleda.
Veleda.
With pride I see a brother's early virtue.

Arminius.
Your gen'rous spirit animates his frame,
One soul informs you both.—Veleda, tell me
Do you bring with you to your husband's arms
Unblemish'd honour? Do you now return
Pure, and immaculate, unstain'd, unviolated
By the proud spoiler, the Italian robber?

Veleda.
No ruffian dar'd with brutal violence
Assault my virtue: torn from your embrace
Life had no charms, and death had lost his terror.
That was my safe guard: she who dares to die,
Protects herself; the guardian of her honour.

Arminius.
Thou best of women! in the hour of peace
My joy, my comfort; in the embattled field,
The brave inspirer of all martial deeds!
To hear thy voice; to have thee in the rear
The witness of my conduct, the applauder
Of ev'ry gallant action, gives an edge
To my keen falchion, nerves my lifted arm,
And gives fresh ardour in my country's cause.

Veleda.
Our nuptial rites instructed me in all
The rigid duties of a German wife.
The sword, the shield, the spear, and other gifts,
Were the firm bonds of our connubial union,
Our hymenial gods. From them I learn'd,
It was my contract, my religious vow
To be your partner in all toil and danger,
To share your pains, and dare with you in war.

Arminius.
You have dar'd nobly with me: in the shock
Of the embattled lines, one thought of thee
Wing'd with the light'ning's speed has sent me forward
Into the thickest danger. From the field
Your care receiv'd me, rouz'd my drooping strength,
Reviv'd my spirit, as you counted o'er
Each honourable scar, and dress'd my wounds.

Veleda.
Then, in those moments to embrace my soldier,
To count with praise his honourable wounds;
Apply the healing balm of plants and flow'rs,
And aromatic shrubs, was the delight,
The tender office of a faithful wife,
Who saw her hero in his country's cause
Defying danger, prodigal of blood,
The great deliverer of Germany.

Arminius.
Grant me that triumph, ye benignant gods,
Crown me with that renown; I then shall say,
I've liv'd enough, for nature and for glory.

Veleda.
Glory like yours no injuries of time
Will e'er extinguish; in immortal bloom
Your dear-bought laurels will for ever flourish.
Your zeal for liberty shall be the theme
Of the whole northern world. To fame like yours
The bards of Germany shall tune their harps,
And in immortal strains send down your name
To future times, and with their pious hymns,
Their sacred minstrelsy, by your example
Inflame posterity to brave exploit.