Prince Arthur. Part Ii

*
An Arthurian Miscellany

Book Vi

Now in the East of Saffron Morn arose,

And call'd the Lab'rer from his soft repose.

Thro' all the Region flew Loquacious Fame;

And the glad tydings spread, where'er she came.

Prince " Arthur" 's Landed, is the general Cry,

Straight to their Arms the chearful " Briton" s fly.

The great Restorer all prepare to meet,

And warlike Noise resounds in every Street.

His eager Friends impatient of delay,

Had long expected this Auspicious Day.

They knew he was Embark'd to bring them Aid,

And for his quick, and safe Arrival pray'd.

Oft on the Rocks and highest Hills they stood,

And all around the Subject Ocean view'd

With longing Eyes, hoping the sight to gain

Of " Arthur" 's Conquering Navy on the Main.

And when no Fleet, no " Arthur" they descry'd,

They chid the Winds, and interposing Tyde.

With less impatience staid th' " Ithacian" Dame,

Till to her Arms her wish'd " Ulysses" came.

The " Sestian" Maid not with such Passion stood,

To spy her Lover cutting thro' the Flood.

The Zealous Men while adverse " Boreas" reign'd,

And from the Coasts Prince " Arthur" 's Fleet detain'd,

When mild " Aurora" with her rosy Light,

Began to streak the dusky Face of Night,

Oft from their Beds, up to the Windows flew,

And thence the Fanes and flying Clouds would view,

To see if yet more favourable Gales

Rose from the South, to swell Prince " Arthur" 's Sails.

Anxious they look around, but when they find

Their hopes retarded by an adverse Wind,

Their Sorrow in repeated Sighs exprest,

They to their Beds return, but not to Rest.

Thus they expected " Arthur" 's powerful Aid,

And such their Sorrow was, their Hopes delay'd.

But now, at last the Prince's Fleet arriv'd,

Raises their Courage, and their Hopes reviv'd.

The joyful Throngs Prince " Arthur" 's Praise proclaim,

This every Tongue employs, ev'n Children aim,

That scarce have learn'd to speak, to lisp his Name.

Some praise his Stature, and his God-like Face,

His awful Presence, and Majestick Grace,

His Courage some, and Conduct in the Field,

And think great " Csar" 's Fame to his, must yield.

His Clemency and Pity some admire,

And all the Virtues, that his Mind inspire.

The Actions of his Childhood some repeat,

In which they still discover'd something Great.

And now, what they expected he appears,

The Hero promis'd in his tender years.

Others relate the ancient Prophecies,

Wherein was told a Monarch should arise

Of mighty Power, and Universal Fame,

That should to Heav'n advance the " British" Name.

Things weigh'd, and well compar'd, they all consent

" Arthur" 's the Conq'rour, that the Prophets meant.

Some tell their Friends, their Courage to support,

What mighty Guards surround the Prince's Court.

What Succours hir'd were from " Germania" brought,

Succours, as oft Victorious, as they fought.

Fierce " Alpine Allobrogs" with slaughter fed,

In Snows and everlasting Winter bred.

Men of stupendous Bulk, pamper'd and cloy'd

With Blood of Nations, which their Arms destroy'd.

Arm'd with broad, flaming Swords, and mighty Spears;

Their Caps were Wolves, their Coats rough Skins of Bears.

Who stretcht on Beds did n'er their Limbs repose,

But from the naked ground still vig'rous rose.

Of Aspect terrible, their squallid Face

Thick, matted Beards with bristly Terrour grace.

None e'er escap'd, that did their Arms provoke,

They Mow whole Squadrons with a single stroke.

This monstrous Kind of Men did Fame invent,

And " Arthur" 's Troops so dreadful represent,

To raise the " Briton" s Hearts before deprest,

And strike a Terrour thro' the " Saxon" 's Breast.

With Joy transported all for Arms declare,

And all the Accoutrements of War prepare.

The Shepherds on the Hills forsake their Flocks,

And leave their brouzing Goats upon the Rocks.

Instead of Crooks, that did their Flocks command,

Long warlike Spears they brandish in their Hand.

The " British" Youth their Courage rais'd, rejoyce

To see the Banners fly, and hear the Trumpet's Voice.

The Farmers leave the Hopes their Field afford,

To reap fresh Laurels with their Conquering Sword.

The noise of War does from the Hills rebound,

And midst the Miners Eccho's under ground.

Who straight alarm'd, at nobler Labour Sweat,

And into Swords their glowing Metal beat.

Their Forges, Anvils and wide Bellows breath,

Are all employ'd in various kinds of Death.

Some shape the Halbert, and broad Fauchion's Blade,

And Darts by some, and Arrows Heads are made.

Some forming Battle-Axes heave the Sledge,

Some into Shields strike out a flaming Wedge.

To fashion Helmets some the Hammer ply,

Some labour, Pieces for the Leg and Thigh.

With Lances arm'd, some their hot Coursers rein,

And to the War Curvet along the Plain.

Some with their clenching Gauntlets grasp the Shield,

Shake their long Spears, and rush into the Field.

Across their Shoulders some their Quivers hung,

Their Arrows trim'd, and Bows for Death new strung.

As when black Clouds dark'ning the Summer Sky,

Loaded with Crystal Tempests slowly fly,

Th' Artillery discharg'd with mighty Sound

Th' exploded Hailstones, leap upon the ground,

Thunder amidst the Woods, and from the Hills rebound.

So with the " Briton" s all the Region swarms,

So thick their Troops, so loud the noise of Arms.

The groaning Earth complains, and trembling feels

The trampling Hoofs, and Chariots fervid Wheels.

In order now, Celestial Muse, declare

What Troops, and who those ancient " Briton" s were,

Who for their Country's Liberty combin'd,

And their Brigades with " Arthur" 's Forces joyn'd.

From Time's dark Prisons set the Hero's free,

And may their glorious Names Immortal be.

First warlike " Cadwall" the " Dimetians" Head,

His Forces from the neighbouring Region led.

Their Troops advance from the bleak Northern Shore,

On which the " Hybernian" Sea's loud Billows roar.

And where " Octopitarum" thro' the Waves

Wedging his Way, the opposing Ocean braves.

Fair " Maridunum" pours her Squadrons forth,

Where the fam'd Sorc'rer " Merlin" had his Birth.

They came who dwelt round high " Plinlimmon" 's Sides,

Where " Stuccia" flows, and swift " Turobius" glides.

King " Meridoe" the " Oordovican" leads

Down from the " British" Alps, whose snowy Heads

" Imaus" like, stand towring in the Air,

And midst the Stars eternal Winter bear.

And from the Soil lav'd by " Conovius" Flood,

And " Menai" 's Banks, where then " Segontium" stood.

Great Numbers swarm'd from " Mona" 's noble Isle,

Deform'd for Aspect, but of fertile Soil.

Where once in shady Groves erected stood,

The " Druids" Altars stain'd with humane Blood.

The Troops their March from " Mediolanum" take,

From " Helen" 's Way, and the " Tegeian" Lake.

Thro' which fair " Deva" 's Streams so swiftly pass,

They uncorrupted shun th' impure Embrace.

Here the sublime " Mervinian" Mountains rise,

And with sharp-pointed Tops transfix the Skies.

Next " Morogan" the bold, " Silures" brought,

None for their Country's Freedom better fought.

They bravely " Valens" and his Troops withstood,

And dy'd " Sabrina" 's Streams with " Roman" Blood.

With like Success " Veranius" they defeat,

And forc'd his vanquish'd Eagles to retreat.

This cause, as much their Courage did provoke,

To free their Country from the Saxon Yoke.

They take in hast their Swords and Bucklers down,

And march to meet the Prince from every Town.

From all the Cities on the verdant side

Of " Nidus" , and on " Loghor" 's Crystal Tyde.

They march from " Bovium" , and the neighboring Shore,

Thick, as the Waves, that there insulting roar.

Down from the Hilly Lands the " Briton" s came,

Which now th' Inhabitants " Brechinia" name.

Where the black Mount stands lofty in the Air,

And forky " Peak" , since call'd great " Arthur" 's Chair.

They march from " Bulleum" , " Haga" , and the Lake,

Where when broad Sheets of Ice dissolving crack,

The ratling Noise rebounds from Neighb'ring Hills,

And with loud Thunder all the Region fills.

From " Ariconium," and the flowry Space,

Which wanton " Vaga" 's winding Arms embrace.

Where " Lugus" his transparent Bosom spreads,

And where " Liddenus" murmurs thro' the Meads.

Where thick " Hesperian Woods" with Apples crown'd,

Of golden Hue, enrich the Fields around.

Which the most generous " British Wine" produce,

" Ausonia" scarce affords a nobler Juice.

They leave the Fields fam'd for the purest Corn,

And the rich Plains that Wooly Flocks adorn,

Which bless the Farmer with a nobler Fleece,

Than what " Apulia" boasts, or fertile " Greece".

They leave the golden Vale, and happy Ground

Which " Dorus" laves, and lofty Woods surround,

The warlike Youth from " Venta" came and those

That " Muno" 's Flood and " Isca" 's Streams inclose.

With those that round the " Oazy Moor" are bred,

And near the Golden Rocks refulgent Head.

Out from her Gates her Youth fair " Isca" pours.

Crown'd with gilt Spires, rich Domes, and lofty Towers.

Where Golden Roofs, and checker'd Floors abound,

Deep Vaults, and spacious Chambers under ground.

A stately Theater the Town o'erlooks,

And noble Works convey the neighb'ring Brooks,

By Conquering " Romans" built, that far from home

They might enjoy the Sports and Pomp of " Rome".

Such was the ample City's ancient Fame,

Now worn by time it scarce preserves its Name.

Those from " Gobanium" march, a Town that stood

On " Isca" 's and " Gevini" 's confluent Flood.

In cheerful Troops the stout " Cornavians" came,

From the rich Soil we now " Salopia" name.

From either side of fair " Sabrina" 's Tyde,

Whose silver Streams the fruitful Land divide.

From " Usocona" , end the Towns that lay

On the fam'd " Roman" Military way.

From " Uriconium" , yet a Noble Town,

And old " Rutunium" , then of good Renown.

" Galbut" their Leader at their Head appears

A lovely Youth, and Wise above his Years:

Descended from a Noble ancient Race

Of Heros, who the " British" Annals grace.

He by Forefathers Beams Illustrious shone,

Great by their Deeds, but greater by his own.

Zeal for his Country, and the " British" Cause,

The generous Youth to glorious Danger draws.

For this he crost the Ocean, to implore

Prince " Arthur" 's Arms, their Freedom to restore.

The Prince embrac'd him, as his Fav'rite Friend,

And did his Zeal and Vigilance commend.

He staid the dear Companion of his Toil,

Both on the Seas, and on th' " Armorick" Soil.

And when the " Saxon" , and the " British" Fleet,

(A dreadful day) did on the Ocean meet,

By " Arthur" 's side upon the Deck, he stood

Distain'd with scatter'd Brains, and reeking Blood.

The Youth at danger unconcern'd appear'd,

And nothing but his Country's Suff'rings fear'd.

He leap'd out first on the " Dimetian" Strand,

And welcom'd " Arthur" to his Native Land.

Where taking leave, he to his Country came,

To Head his Men, and win yet greater Fame.

" Devana" sends brave Troops, a noble Town,

For lofty Works, and splendid Structures known.

Where once the " Roman" Conquerours did reside,

And envy'd not " Italia" 's Wealth and Pride.

The bold Inhabitants on " Deva" 's Bank,

And they who " Danus" , and " Merseia" drank;

With those that had their Seats, along the Soil

Which Briny Riches gives with easie Toil;

Draw out and Muster on the Neighb'ring Plain,

Resolv'd the " British" Honour to regain.

" Bothan" their Captain was a Warlike Knight,

A brave Asserter of his Country's Right.

A noble, but ungovernable Fire,

(Such is the Hero's) did his Breast inspire.

His honest Rage, his Friends could scarely Rule,

Hot for the Camp, but not for Counsel Cool.

Fit to assist to pull a Tyrant down,

But not to please the Prince that mounts the Throne.

Impatient of Oppression, still he stood

His Country's Mounds, against th' invading Flood.

Impetuous, as a Tempest in its Course,

He not to Conduct trusted, but to Force.

Unskill'd in Court Intreagues, on which the wise

And crafty Statesmen, as his strength, relies;

He still expected that a loud Applause,

Should follow Brav'ry, and a Righteous Cause,

His Country prais'd him; no " Britannik" Lord,

Was as his People's Patron more ador'd.

And Now in Arms they throng about their Head,

None to the Prince such numerous Forces led.

The " Corintanians" , that the Soil possest,

By fair " Darventio" 's fruitful Waters blest,

And " Repandunum" , where clear " Trenta's " Tide

Do's into " Dovo" 's silver Bosome glide.

Those near high " Peak" , in heavenly Waters drown'd,

And in the Dale, which craggy Rocks surround;

Their Zeal and Courage rais'd by loud Alarms,

Forsook their Seats, and Fields, and flew to Arms.

These valiant Men that Fame and Freedom sought,

To join the Prince's Arms " Canvallo" brought.

Noble " Canvallo" , who did with him bring

The Majesty, and Presence of a King.

Of lofty Stature, and a graceful Air,

By's own Sex fear'd, and favour'd by the Fair.

Th' Inglorious Pleasures of the wanton Court,

That drain'd his Wealth, did not the Patriot hurt,

Fit for the Camp, or Business of the State,

But soft Enjoyments Love to both abate.

Alarm'd with Publick Danger, he arose

Like a rous'd Lyon, from his long Repose.

Arm'd, and equip'd with gaeat Magnificence,

He mounts his fiery Turk, bought at a vast Expence.

His princely Train, and splendid Equipage,

Wher'ere he past the Eyes of all engag'd.

The " Atrebatians" From the happy Land,

Which then sublime " Gallena" did command.

Where winding " Thamisis" does bless the Soil,

The Wealth and Glory of the " British" Isle.

In War-like Bands advance to " Arthur" 's Aid,

And rich " Bertudor" , as their Head obey'd,

Who still against the Pagan Interest strove,

Rich in Possessions, and his People's Love.

His happy Tenants, and the Farmers round,

His Hospitable House still open found.

Each Week ten Oxen from the Stall he drew,

A hundred Sheep, and forty Swine he slew;

Fat Venison, Fowl, and Fish, an endless Store,

To feed his Guests, his Servants, and the Poor.

He to the Woods, and Forrests was inclin'd,

To hunt the Fox, and chase the flying Hind.

Pleas'd with his Friends, and with his rural Sport,

He wisely shun'd, the Dangers of the Court.

But for the Christian Cause, and publick Peace,

He quits the Forrests, and his Wealth and Ease.

His Helmet brac'd, and on his Arm his Shield,

He march'd before his Troops into the Field.

And that my Verse may to his Name be just,

Of all the Lords " Bertudor" was the first,

That to the Camp, his valiant Forces brought,

Tho' not inur'd to War, and tho' remote.

The " Durotriges" from the western Coast,

Where the " Britannick" Ocean's Waves are tost.

Their Troops assembled, for the Prince declare,

And march from all the Towns, to meet the War.

From " Dornavaria" , and the Seats that stand

On " Froma" 's Stream, and wealthy " Blackmoor" Land:

From " Vendogladia" , and the Tow'rs that rose

On the fat Glebe, where pleasant " Stourus" flows.

" Sakil" their Leader, and Illustrious Peer,

Was to his Prince, and to his Country dear.

He, their " Mcenas" cheers the " British Bards" ,

Learns them to Sing, and then their Songs rewards.

So Heav'n to makes Men good, does Grace bestow,

And then rewards them for their being so.

Him as their Head the " Athenian" Sons adore,

The Muses Fav'rite, but the People's more.

To form great Men, his Palace was the School,

His Life good Breeding's, and good Nature's Rule.

To him the needy Men of Wit resort,

And find a Friend in an unletter'd Court.

The Poets Nation, did Obsequious wait

For the kind Dole, divided at his Gate.

" Laurus" amisdst the meagre Crowd appear'd,

An old, revolted, unbelieving Bard,

Who throng'd, and shov'd, and prest, and would be heard.

Distinguish'd by his louder craving Tone,

So well to all the Muses Patrons known,

He did the Voice of modest Poets drown.

" Sakil" 's high Roof, the Muses Palace rung

With endless Cries, and endless Songs he sung.

To bless good " Sakil Laurus" would be first,

But " Sakil" 's Prince, and " Sakil" 's God he curst.

" Sakil" without distinction threw his Bread,

Despis'd the Flatt'rer, but the Poet fed.

His Sword the Muses great Defender draws,

T'assert " Britannia" 's, and Religion's Cause.

" Orson" their Head, the bold " Brigantes" brings,

Subject of late, to the " North" -" Saxon" Kings.

Now for their Liberty they boldly speak,

And thro' the Foe, to joyn Prince " Arthur" , break.

" Osron" 's Example all the Region fir'd,

With noble Heats, and Martial Thoughts inspir'd.

None in the Field did greater Courage show,

Whether he charg'd, or else sustain'd the Foe.

Yet none more fit in Council to preside,

And in a Storm, the lab'ring State to guide.

A mighty Genius of uncommon Mould,

As " Csar" Eloquent, as " Csar" Bold.

He could th' unstable People's Tumults stop,

And a declining Kingdom underprop.

Matur'd by Age, and business of the State,

The hoary Oracle in Council sate.

Where he the " British Nestor" ws esteem'd,

And all his Language, Inspiration seem'd.

This finish'd Statesman, did the Prince perswade

To pass the Seas, the " Saxon" to invade.

And at his Landing quick Assistance brought,

And for his Country none more bravely fought.

The farthest " Western" Soil, which with their Wave

The " British" , and " Hibernian" Oceans lave.

From " Isca" 's Noble Stream, far as the Shore

Where round " Bolerium" 's Head the Billows roar,

By the " Danmonian Briton" s was possest,

And with King " Cador" 's, temperate Empire blest,

This war-like People, at their King's Command,

Now take up Arms, and muster thro' the Land.

The good King " Cador" worn with War and Age,

No longer does the Foe in Arms engage.

" Macor" his Son supply'd the Father's Place,

Whose Virtues equal'd his Illustrious Race.

To serve Prince " Arthur" , and his righteous Cause,

His Sword the brave " Danmonian" Hero draws.

A beauteous Youth, whose Breast a strong desire

Of Fame, and Martial Glory did inspire.

Eager of War, he the " Danmonians" led,

And shone in splendid Armour at their Head.

His coming, Joy to all the " Briton" s gives,

And in his Arms, the Prince his Friend receives.

To whom to be endear'd, he always strove,

By all expressions of Respect and Love.

The Valiant Youth he did with Honours grace,

To his high Merit due, and noble Race.

" Macor" , mean time, Prince " Arthur" did adore,

None serv'd his Cause, or sought his Favour more.

" Tracar" , and " Ormes" in the Camp arrive,

Whose Presence to the rest, fresh Courage give.

Their Wisdom was by Fame aloud proclaim'd,

The " Briton" s none with greater Honour nam'd.

Both fit about a Monarch to abide,

To aid his Counsels, and the State to guide.

None more admir'd for clear, unerring Sense,

For Piercing Sight, and charming Eloquence.

Great Spirits both, but of a different Mould,

" Ormes" impetuous, Tarbulent, and Bold;

But " Tracar" was compos'd, sedate, and cool,

His Passions subject to a stricter Rule.

" Ormes" was haughty, inaccessible,

And knew his Riches, and his Sense too well.

" Tracar" was courteous, easie of Access,

Of great Humanity, and mild Address.

" Ormes" was therefore honour'd not desir'd,

" Tracar" belov'd, and equally admir'd.

" Ormes" would still advance unbounded Power,

" Tracar" his Country's Liberty secure.

" Tracar" had letters, " Ormes" Native Fire:

Both had by Birth, what Labour can't acquire.

" Arthur" to neither Rival Wit inclines,

But us'd them both, to serve his wise Designs.

Such Love the " Briton" s to the Prince exprest,

Who when he found his Numbers thus encreast,

Advanc'd his Ensigns, and to " Isca" came,

Where the " Silures" dwelt, theh chief for Fame.

Hither fresh Squadrons to the Prince resort,

Which from that time is call'd great " Arthur" 's Court.

Five times the Sun had his Diurnal Race

Compleated, when from this delightful place

The pious Prince his Ensigns mov'd, and came

To " Glevum" , seated on " Sabrina" 's Stream.

Decamping hence, his arm'd Battalions gain

Prince " Arthur" at their Head, the fertile Plain

By easie Marches, where " Gallena" stood,

Which " Thamisis" laves with its noble Flood.

Thus stood the " Briton" s, after his Defeat,

" Octa" with Grief did to his Coasts Retreat.

As when by chance a Royal Eagle spies,

From some high Mountains Top, amidst the Skies;

A flight of Swans, obscuring all the Air,

Swift as the Lightning, which he's said to bear,

Upon the Prey his Airy Flight he takes,

And with sharp Pounces vast Destruction makes.

Some fall struck dead, some wounded slowly fly,

While Snowy Clouds of Feathers fill the Sky.

Those that the fierce Invader's Strokes survive,

With all the speed, Fear to their Wings can give;

To their belov'd " Cayster" 's Banks return,

And in their reedy Seats, their Wounds and Losses mourn.

So far'd the " Saxons" , and their shatter'd Fleet,

" Octa" forthwith Commands his Lords to meet

In Council, where they in long order sate

T'advise, what best might save their threaten'd State.

" Cissa" first spoke, an able Counsellour

Let us assemble all our present power,

And straight advance the " Briton" s to Attack,

Who to our Arms can small Resistance make.

Sore with their Wounds, and weary with their Toil,

They tempt the " Saxons" to an easie Spoil.

Boldly fall on, before their Troops are eas'd,

With Food and Rest, and with Recruits increas'd.

Your Wisdom thus, and Courage will appear,

Who tho defeated, have not learn'd to fear.

The Foe surpriz'd must to your Mercy yield,

Or to their Ships Retreating, quit the Field.

He ceas'd, then " Osred" , who had always won

By his wise Counsel great Applause, begun:

Our late Defeat has too much Terrour strook,

Thro' all our Troops, too much our Empire shook,

And too much flesh'd the Foe, to let me joyn

In this Advice, my Counsels more incline

To draw into the Field our utmost Power

From all the " Saxon" States, and to secure

Our Empire, let us labour to perswade

The " Pict" , and " Scotish" King, to give us Aid.

The Cause and Interest is the same of all,

They and their Gods, if we are crush'd, must fall.

Our Arms united in a numerous Host,

We may before of certain Conquest boast.

The trembling Foe unable to withstand

Such mighty Armies, will forsake the Land.

But if supported with vain hopes they stay,

They fall into our hands an easie Prey.

" Pascentius" next, a wise " Nestorian" head,

Whose Looks, and Words profound Attention bred:

Thus spoke-'tis true our Troops while thus dismay'd,

And of Prince " Arthur" 's Fame, and Arms afraid,

From present Action justly may disswade.

Seeking the Foe we too great Danger run,

Embolden'd by his Victory lately won.

And thus far " Osred" 's Thoughts and mine you see

Conspire, as in the rest they disagree.

If with our utmost Force we meet our Foes,

To too much hazard we our State expose.

Th' uncertain Game of War they little know,

That Stake an Empire on a single Throw.

While we delay to gather all our Force,

And to the " Picts" and " Scots" , shall have recourse;

Prince " Arthur" will advance, and mightier grow,

Like rolling Balls, that gather up the Snow,

Or Rivers taking Streams in, as they flow.

The " Briton" s led by ancient Prophecies,

Expect that near this time, a Prince shall rise

Heroick, Wise, a mighty Conqueror,

That all their lost Dominions shall restore,

And o'er the World, extend their Naval Power.

Something like this, our Augurs seem to fear,

From Prodigies, and Signs that oft appear.

Those hopes they all of " Arthur" now express,

Drawn by his Fame abroad, and late Success.

While this Belief, tho' false, the " Briton" warms,

He grows less fearful of the " Saxon" Arms.

He'll be more bold in Fight, while thus inspir'd,

And with such Zeal, and Expectation fir'd.

Intoxicated thus Men Wonders do,

And by bold Deeds, make their vain Fancies true.

He therefore serves King " Octa" , that creates,

An Understanding first, between the States.

An Embassy may to the Prince be sent,

To treat how Blood and ruin to prevent,

They may propose the Kingdom to divide,

And offer " Octa" 's Daughter for his Bride,

Fair, " Ethelina" , whose perverted Mind,

To " Christian" Worship is too much inclin'd.

He ceas'd, and his Advice did chiefly please,

And of the Council most declar'd for Peace.

The Lords dispers'd, King " Octa" unresolv'd,

Long in his Mind his troubled Thoughts revolv'd.

With strong contending Tydes of Passion prest,

Now War he looks on, now on Peace, as best.

Long he appear'd on " Osred" 's Counsel bent,

And to the Neighb'ring " Saxon" Princes sent,

That all, the strong Necessity might know

Of joyning Arms, against the Common Foe.

At the same time an Embassy he sends,

To make the " Pict" , and " Scotish" King his Friends.

That of their powerful Aid he might not fail,

If " Arthur" , and his " Briton" s should prevail.

But when he heard, that " Arthur" had as far

As " Glevum" 's Walls, advanc'd the threatning War,

Observing that the " Saxons" were dismaid,

And not yet strengthen'd by his Neighbours Aid,

He now declar'd, it was his setled Sense,

A Treaty with the " Briton" to Commence.

Then Orators he sent without delay,

Who to the " Briton" s Camp direct their way.

" Titullan" , " Selred" , and wise " Theocles"

For this Negotiation chiefly please.

" Heldured" of the Embassy was one,

" Osrick" and " Thedred" noble " Ormar" 's Son.

Arriving at the Prince's Camp, they found

The " British" Youth in Crowds disperst around.

For then with various Sports, and manly Play,

The " Briton" s solemniz'd, th' auspicious Day,

Of " Arthur" 's Birth, o'er all the Fields they spred,

To different Games, by different Passions led.

Here Chariots raising Clouds of Dust appear,

And run with smoaking Wheels their swift Career.

Here the robust " Danmonian" Nation swarms,

Hurling their massy Balls with vig'rous Arms.

Here the " Dobunians" to advance their Fame,

Toil at their Country's old laborious Game.

Long Ashen Staves across their Shoulders lie,

Then sway'd with both their Hands, strike thro the Sky.

A mounting Orb of Thongs, or well sow'd Hide,

While at due distance rang'd, on th' other Side

The Foe inclining stands, to wait its Fall,

And with like Force, strike Back the bounding Ball.

Incircled Wrestlers here their Manhood try,

And with loud Shouts, that rend the lab'ring Sky,

The standing Ring proclaims the Victory.

Some to a Cudgel prize their Fellows dare,

Who strait spring out to meet the wooden War.

They brandish in the Air their threat'ning Staves,

Their Hands, a woven Guard of Osier saves,

In which they fix their Hazel Weapon's End,

Thus arm'd, the nimble Combatants contend

For Conquest, giving and receiving Blows,

And down their Heads a crimson River flows.

Here flowry Garlands their proud Temples crown,

Whose airy Feet the Race had newly won.

Such were the " Briton" s Sports, as thro' the Throng

The " Saxon" Orators pass'd slow slow along.

Who strait were to th' August Pavilion led,

Where " Arthur" sate, his Lords around him spread.

To whom " Edburga" thus,

The " Saxon" King, whose ardent wishes are

To save " Britannia" , from Destructive War.

Who rather seeks t'enjoy the Fruits of Peace,

Then by his Arms his Empire to encrease.

Makes such Advances for these glorious Ends,

As may the " Briton" s make his lasting Friends.

The " Saxons" , and the " Briton" s shall command

Their equal Shares, of the divided Land.

Such Barrier shall be fixt, as shall secure

The " Briton" s, jealous of the " Saxon" Power.

To give " Britannia" Peace, we condescend

To yield up what our Arms can well defend.

Such steps King " Octa" makes for Peace, beside

That both may yet with closer Bonds be ty'd,

Bright " Ethelina" , " Octa" 's chief Delight,

Shall be the Link, the Nations to unite.

This so much envy'd Favorite of Fame,

Whom all with Love, and Admiration name.

" Octa" consents shall be your beauteous Bride,

To you already, in her Faith Ally'd.

These Measures all Contentions may adjust,

Friendship confirm, and fix a mutual Trust.

But if rejected, " Octa" does declare

He's guiltless of the dire effects of War.

Upon the Christians Head, will rest the Guilt

Of all the Blood, that by the Sword is spilt.

The Prince reply'd,

Affairs of that Importance to the State,

Require our thoughtful Care and calm Debate.

The two Proposals by King " Octa" made,

For lasting Friendship, shall be duly weigh'd.

Twice had the Sun broke from the Purple East,

Twice was he seen dilated in the West.

When " Arthur" seated on his Chair of State,

Thus spake, the " Saxons" with Attention wait.

An honourable Peace my Thoughts prefer,

To all the Triumphs of a Bloody War.

I, and my " Briton" s, those just Terms approve,

King " Octa" makes t' establish Peace and Love,

To spare each Nation's Blood, and save the Isle

From Desolation, and destructive Spoil.

Indulgent Heav'n is to both Nations kind,

That has your King to peaceful Thoughts inclin'd.

Ten Lords of " Saxon" , ten of " British" Blood,

May meet at " Spina" near " Cunetio" 's Flood.

T'adjust the Limits of each Nation's Power,

And Barriers fix, that may their Peace secure.

You for an Interview, the place will name,

Where I may see the beauteous " Saxon" Dame.

He ceas'd, and all the Audience pour'd around,

To this assented with a murmuring Sound.

A sudden Joy did in their Eyes appear,

While smiling Peace, triumph'd o'er vanquish'd War.

Mean time the Infernal Monarch wings his Flight,

To the " White Hills" , whence his Angelick Sight

Might all the Fields, and subject plains survey,

Where in their Camp, the hateful " Briton" s lay.

While with malicious Eyes around he view'd,

The " Christian" Army fill'd with Joy, he stood

With Rage dilated, and with Envy blown,

Like glowing " tna" , on " Plinlimon" thrown.

Flashes of Fire from his red Eyeballs flow'd,

Like Lightning breaking from a lowring Cloud.

So when a Toad, squat on a Border spies,

The Gardner passing by, his bloodshot Eyes

With Spite, and Rage inflam'd, dart Fire around

The verdant Walks, and on the flowry Ground,

The bloated Vermin loathsome Poison spits,

And swoln and bursting with his Malice sits.

So the faln Angel sate, and thus begun,

Am I, and all th' infernal Powers outdone?

And must this " Briton" still pursue his Course,

And thus elude my Arts, and all my Force?

What Christian Towns, and States have I destroy'd,

Forc'd by my Power, or by my Arts decoy'd?

How few remaining Christian Regions are,

Where no deep Marks of my Revenge appear?

What glorious Ruin did my " Romans" spread

O'er " Asia" 's Christian; I the " Lombards" led,

And furious " Huns" , to rich " Ausonia" 's Soil;

And fill'd the Land with Blood, and Christian Spoil,

My " Maximin" 's, and " Nero" 's, mighty Names,

What Desolation, by devouring Flames,

What Slaughter by the Sword, these Heros made,

With what Success did they the Saints invade?

And if the Fame be true that spreads in Hell,

In " Gaul" a Prince shall arise, that shall excel

All these, and more in Blood and Spoil delight,

And all Hell's Furies to his Aid invite.

Let that great Prince arise, and may his Birth,

Be honour'd with Convulsions of the Earth,

Eclipses, Comets, Meteors, Lightnings, Storms,

Murders, and Monsters of tremendous Forms.

Nor are there Triumphs of my Power alone,

Much weaker Spirits, have great Conquests won.

Spirits of Lower Order, small renown,

In Hell of little Figure, scarcely known.

Inferiour, subaltern Divinities,

Could often their just Fury to appease,

To wreck their Rage, and honest Malice cloy,

Whole Armies of this hateful Sect destroy:

First tempt th' ungrateful Murmurers to Rebel,

And then with Plagues and Darts invisible,

With Fire, and Earthquakes lay all wast, disseize

Their God, and ruin all his Votaries.

And shall this " Briton" my Force defy,

And introduce his banish'd Deity?

High States of Hell, ye mighty Gods below,

In your August Assemblies who will Bow,

Who Acclamations make when I appear,

Who dread my Power, my Greatness who revere?

If still this " Briton" shall resist my Power,

And all my Arts eluded, rest secure?

But if by irresistable Deceree

Pronounc'd by Fate, and unchang'd Destiny;

" Arthur" at last must mount the " British" Throne,

Beat down our Altars, and erect his own.

At least new hardships shall obstruct his Way,

And my Revenge his Triumphs shall delay.

That said he Flew, his Snakie Wings display'd,

Down to his Palace midst th' Infernal Shade.

From all their gloomy Regions to his Court,

At his Command, th' Infernal Lords resort.

To whom their Monarch from his glowing Throne

Thus with a haughty, troubled Look begun.

Thus far in vain all our Attempts are made,

To crush the " Briton" s that our State invade.

At Sea, they Triumph o'er King " Octa" 's Fleet,

At Land, Success above their Hopes, they meet.

" Octa" defeated, dreads Prince " Arthur" 's Arms,

And sues for Peace, by " Ethelina" 's Charms.

If this should once prevail, " Britannia" 's lost,

We, and our Priests, must fly this impious Coast.

Help'd by th' Almighty Enemy of Hell,

They yet our Arms escape, our Power repel.

Then Monarch's War with vast advantage wage,

When Heav'n its Power does on their part Engage.

This sure Expedient's left us to annoy

The " Briton" s, and their tow'ring Hopes destroy.

Let us provoke them to some dire Offence,

Which may against their Armies, Heav'n incense.

Then the Seraphick Guards, that round them ly,

Or else patroling thro' the Region fly,

Scowring the Hills and Vales, with flaming Arms,

The Christians to protect from our Alarms;

These will displeas'd, withdraw their powerful Aid,

And we with Safety may their Camp invade.

What subtile Spirit of seducing Art,

And skill in tempting, will perform this part?

Then filthy " Asmodai" who Men inspires

With wanton Passions, and unclean Desires,

Whose leud Adorers stand before his Shrine,

Transform'd to lustful Goats, and loathsome Swine,

Thus spake: This grateful Province I embrace,

I from their Minds will virtuous Passions chase.

My stronger Force shall all chast Thoughts expel,

And Heav'n's weak Flames, shall yield to those of Hell.

To solemn Groves, and lonesome Hermits Cells,

Where boasted Chastity in Triumph dwells,

To Cloyster'd Monks Admission I command,

And can a Camp my powerful Charms withstand?

On me such chosen Spirits shall attend,

Whose Skill and Power will most promote my End.

The Gods of " Riot" , " Luxury" and " Wine" ,

In this Attempt shall all their Forces joyn.

Doubt not great Prince, when we their Camp Assail,

Nature is on our side, we shall prevail.

Th' Infernal Diet with his Language mov'd,

With loud Applause the wise Design approv'd.

Straight " Asmodai" attended with a Train

Of soft Luxurious Spirits, to the Plain

Directs his Flight, where the glad " Briton" s lay;

With lab'ring Wings he mounts the steepy Way,

And quickly reach'd the tender Verge of Day.

In Companies distinct the " Briton" s fate,

Pleas'd with their wish'd Success, and prosp'rous Fate.

When to the Camp the Crew Infernal came,

Grasping in either hand " Tartarean" Flame.

About from Tent to Tent the " Demons" flew,

And midst the Troops their flaming Torches threw.

The wanton Fires about their Bosoms play,

And to their Hearts lascivious warmth convey.

The soft Contagion glides along their Veins,

And in their Breasts the pleasing Poison reigns.

Straight all in Riot and Debauches joyn,

Dissolve in Mirth, and sit inflam'd with Wine.

The Captains Snore on Scarlet spread beneath,

And with their lab'ring Breasts contend for Breath.

Tables o'erturn'd and broken Swords betwixt,

And Dishes faln, with Armour intermixt,

Helmets and Harness, and bruis'd Goblets by,

A mad Confusion, make of War, and Luxury:

Acted with lustful Fires, from Town to Town

Commanders and their Men promiscuous run.

With Outrages and ravish'd Virgins Spoils,

The vicious Army all the Land defiles.

Whoredoms in " Pagan" Cities they commit,

And at their Sacrifices feasting sit.

Heated with leud Religion, Lust, and Wine

They in the Worship of their Idols join.

Then to tht Camp the hot Adulterers lead

Their " Pagan" Women and avow the Deed.

Th' Angelick Guards th' enormous vices saw,

And in Displeasure from their Camp withdraw.

All Hell with Shouts of Triumph did resound,

That Such Success had all their Wishes crown'd.

The Prince of Hell strait summons from beneath

The chief supporter of the Throne of Death,

Vengeful " Megra" , she without Delay

From Hell's Abyss ascends, and in her Way

Gathers raw Damps and Steams from noisome Graves,

And putrid Reeks, from Subterranean Caves;

Where spotted Plagues first draw their poisonous Breath,

The Nurseries of Pain, and Magazines of Death.

These Seeds of Torment, and devouring Heats,

From whose Contagion vanquish'd Life retreats,

" Megra" in compacted Hides dark Wombs,

For this infernal Purpose made, entombs.

In their distinct Repositories laid,

Sad choice of Death, she various Plagues convey'd.

Arm'd for Destruction thus the Fury Came,

And brought from " Asmodai" 's, a different Flame.

Then Wolves were heard in neighb'ring Hills to howl,

Th' illboding Raven and the screaching Owl

Sung o'er the Camp by Night, the Sun by Day,

Distain'd with Blood, shone with a dismal Ray.

The cruel Fury strait her Flight did take

To find her Prince, to whom th' Apostate spake.

Go, glut thy Rage, and let the " Briton" s know,

Hell's Monarch is not yet a vanquish'd Foe.

Pass thro their Camp with thy accustom'd Hast,

And on them all thy deadly Treasures wast.

Strait did the vengeful Minister prepare,

T' infect the Camp, and poison all the Air.

Her Bottles turgid with imprison'd Death

She open'd, and releas'd the fatal Breath.

In livid Wheels the dire Contagion flies,

And putrid Exhalations taint the Skies.

The Region's choak'd with Pestilential Steams,

Malignant Reeks, raw Damps, and soultry Gleams.

Now with their Breath the hot Infection slides

Into their Breasts, and thro' their Vitals glides.

Their Lab'ring Hearts spout out the flowing Blood,

And fry the Limbs with an tnean Flood.

The raging Pest'lence chases thro' the Veins

Retreating Life, and drest in purple Reigns.

While other Plagues run colder to the Heart,

And thro' their Breast strike like a poison'd Dart.

Rack'd with tormenting Pain some gasping lie,

Some only breath th' envenom'd Air, and die.

Their Hearts with chill, congealing Blood opprest,

Throb a few moments in their panting Breast,

Then yield, and from their Vital Labour rest.

In vain for Help, in vain for Drugs they cry,

Friends and Physitians come, but with them dy.

Thro' all the Camp the fierce Destruction's spread,

Deforming every Tent with Heaps of Dead.

Mean time the pious " Arthur" prostrate laid,

Thus in a Flood of Tears dissolving pray'd:

Great King of Heav'n, thy Arm thou makest bare,

T' invade the " Briton" s with resistless War.

Thy glitt'ring Sword brandish'd with dreadful Sway,

Does thro our Camp with wide Destruction Slay.

Why did thy Aids the Shipwreckt " Briton" s save,

From Rocks and Tempests, and th' insulting Wave,

If we must only see our Native Isle,

And with our Dead th' encumber'd Land defile?

Th' insulting Heathen will Blaspheme thy Name,

And in their Songs advance their Idols Fame.

To their vain Gods loud Praises they'll return,

And Hecatombs upon their Altars burn.

Spare yet thy " Briton" s, let some Reliques live,

That may due Honours to thy Temples give.

Let the Destroyer cease at thy Command,

And Death at thy Rebuke arrested, stand.

And may the Crimes that Heav'n provoke, be known,

That our deep Sorrows may its Wrath atone.

The pious Prince's humble Cries succeed,

And glorious " Raphael" with Angelick speed

Descends, his Sword of Flame drawn in his Hand,

To chase the fierce Destroyer from the Land.

A Crystal Vial full of Od'rous Fumes,

Ambrosial Balm, and rich Etherial Gums;

His other hand pour'd out upon the Air,

To cure the Damps, and noxious Vapours there.

" Megra" flies the bright Archangel's Sword,

The Plague was staid, and Health and Life restor'd.

Then to the room swift " Raphael" Wings his way,

Where " Arthur" still devoutly prostrate lay.

To whom the Seraph thus:

Heav'n by the " Briton" s daring Crimes incens'd,

Almighty Wrath severely has dispenc'd!

Your unprotected Camp it did expose,

To the dire Rage of your Infernal Foes.

Who by Divine Permission soon o'erspread

Your guilty Camp, with putrid Heaps of Dead.

Th' Angelick Guards return'd to Heaven, complain'd

That your flagitious Troops you n'er restrain'd.

Your Captains boldly Whoredoms, Riots, Rapes

Commit, and yet each Criminal escapes.

Thus you avow the Ills, by others done,

And their unpunish'd Guilt, becomes your own.

Had your Vindictive Arm been first employ'd,

Heav'n's had not thus your guilty Troops destroy'd.

But now th' Eternal yielding to your Prayer,

Has sent me from his Throne, with speedy Care

To stay the Plague, and make the Fiend retreat,

That spreads the Poison, to her " Stygian" Seat.

Heav'n's now appeas'd, may ne'er the " Briton" s dare

By their Revolting, to renew the War.

The Seraph disappear'd, and " Arthur" rais'd

Upon his Feet, th' Eternal Goodness prais'd.

Book Vii

The Prince of Hell that on the Moutain staid,

And with Infernal Joy around survey'd

The Camp, where Death did in sad Triumph reign,

With wide Destruction, covering all the Plain.

Thus to himself: At last I have prevail'd

Against this Sect, tho other Arts have fail'd.

Their Troops half ruin'd with the Plague, afford

An easie Conquest, for King " Octa" 's Sword;

Ill break the Peace, although advanc'd so far,

And finish their Destruction by new War.

" Arthur" , prepare against the " Saxon" Arms,

'Tis time enough for " Ethelina" 's Charms.

Heros delay'd, and disappointed, prize

The Crown, that got too cheaply, they despise.

Pleasures the farther off, the greater seem,

And Toil and Danger, best preserve Esteem.

That service I will do, by taking care

To give fresh Fuel to th' expiring War.

That said, he leaves the Crystal Plains of Light,

And to th' Infernal Regions takes his Flight.

There stands a Rock, dash'd with the breaking Wave

Of troubled " Styx" , where was a gloomy Cave

Flowing with Gore, the fierce " Bellona" dwells,

And bound with Adamantine Fetters, Yells.

Around stand Heaps of mossy Sculls, and Bones,

Whence issue loud Laments, and dreadful Groans.

Torn Limbs, and mangled Bodies are her Food,

Her Drink whole Bowls of Wormwood, Gall, and Blood.

Long curling Snakes her Head with Horrour crown,

And on her squallid Back hang lolling down.

This gripes a bloody Dart, the other Hand

Grasps of Infernal Fire, a flaming Brand.

Treason, and Usurpation near ally'd,

Haughty Ambition, and elated Pride,

And Cruelty, with bloody Garlands crown'd,

Rapine, and Desolation stand around.

With these Injustice, Violence, Rage remain,

And ghastly Famine, with her meagre Train.

This Savage Rout to " Gallia" now resort,

Drawn by the Fame of proud " Versallia" 's Court.

There these Attendants on their Master wait,

And with their odious Forms, compose his horrid State.

To this wild Den now did th' Apostate fly,

Resolving all " Bellona" 's Aid to try.

At his Approach the Monsters cease their Din,

And bow at distance with a dreadful Grin.

The " Stygian" Prince, the Fury soon unchains,

Strait double Rage boils in her swelling Veins.

Then thus he spoke, to " Octa" 's Palace fly,

Attended with perfidious Treachery,

And various Discord, let thy Arts perswade

That Prince, the ruin'd " Briton" s to invade.

Go raise new Tumults, and dissolve the Peace,

For this high Task " Bellona" I release.

Charg'd with these dire Commands, she flies away,

To the Superiour Regions, blest with Day.

Near " Peak" 's aspiring Mount, and spacious Wood,

And the green Banks of " Dovus" Crystal Flood.

A wide-mouth'd Den, th' admiring Traveller sees

With Thorny Shrubs o'er-spread, and shady Trees;

That downward goes unfathomably deep,

Beneath the subterranean Vaults, that keep

Imprison'd Damps, and Winds tumultuous Store,

And the low Caves, where falling Waters roar.

It passes thro' the Bowels of the Earth,

And the rich Beds, where Metals have their Birth,

Till it reveals the gloomy Mouth of Hell,

" Bellona" freed from her infernal Cell,

Thro' this dire Gulph ascends with hasty Flight,

And soon emerges in the Fields of Light.

The Air grew dark, the Rocks, and Mountains struck

With Horrour, at the " Fury" 's Presence shook.

The Sphears disorder'd roll, the starting Sun

Springs from the Heav'nly Course he us'd to run.

The Moon all drown'd in Blood, and blazing Stars,

Portended Tumults, and destructive Wars.

Straight to King " Octa" 's Court the Fury comes,

And " Acha Octa" 's Mother's Shape assumes.

Then thus she spoke.

From blest " Elysian" Gardens I descend

To teach thee how to gain a glorious End

Of all thy Labours, and thy warlike Toil,

And fix thy Empire o'er the " British" Isle.

Heav'n has decreed that here thy Race shall reign,

And therefore has the hateful " Briton" s slain

With a destructive Plague, and poison'd Darts

Shot from above, into their impious Hearts.

Not half their Troops survive, make hast my Son

Their Ruine to compleat, by Heav'n begun.

Run then to Triumph, hast to certain Spoil,

And chase the cursed Nation from the Isle.

You see how much your League the Gods offend,

Let not their Enemy, be " Octa" 's Friend.

They must not be to us by Blood ally'd,

Nor " Ethelina" be a " Briton" 's Bride.

That said, a spotted Viper from her Head

She to his Bosom secretly convey'd.

The poisonous Vermin, with infernal Art

Glides thro' his Breast, and twines about his Heart.

The secret Poison wanders thro' his Veins,

And warlike Fury o'er his Spirits reigns.

Hence straight-way to the " Picts" and " Scottish" Court,

The Fury, and her hellish Train resort.

Where they to bloody Wars sound loud Alarms

And make the barb'rous Nations fly to Arms.

Mean time, the " Saxon" Monarch raving flew

About the Court, and soon together drew

The chiefest Lords, and thus himself exprest,

It was resolv'd to give the " Briton" s Rest;

The Land between the Nations to divide,

And that the Princess should be " Arthur" 's Bride.

But Heav'n against his Treaty does declare,

And singly with the " Briton" s wages War.

In vain we offer what they can't enjoy,

We spare the Men, Heav'n labours to destroy.

Avenging Gods from their high Regions came,

Arm'd with bright Swords of keen, Etherial Flame,

And fatal Darts of pointed Lightnings made,

And with sure Death the " British" Camp invade.

Their trembling Reliques fall our certain Prey,

Heav'n sounds th' Alarm, and we must Heav'n obey.

Tho we by Sea their Power could not withstand,

Our Gods more potent are, then theirs by Land.

Th' unfinish'd Conquest we may soon compleat

Or from this Isle oblige them to retreat.

This fair occasion let our Arms improve

To fix our Power, and all our Fears remove.

He ceas'd, and all his Captains War desir'd,

And sprang into the Field with Martial Heat inspir'd.

Straight Orders are dispacht for all to Arm,

And thro' the Cities sounds the loud Alarm.

The tremb'ling Husbandman his Toil forbears,

Fells his tall Ash, and shapes long Staves for Spears.

Some sighing o'er their Anvils forge the Blades

Of Swords, instead of Hooks, and rural Spades.

Huge Gauntlets some, some hollow Helmets beat,

And some o'er brazen Backs, and Breastplates sweat.

Some shape their Darts, and some their Javelins Points,

Or fit their pollish'd Armour's Manly Joints.

Shap'ning their Arrows Heads, some stand inclin'd,

Some on revolving Stones their Axes grind.

Some serve on foot, some take the Horseman's Launce,

And to the Field their foaming Coursers praunce.

In hast, some from their high roof'd Halls hung round,

With all the horrid Pride of War, and crown'd

With dusty Trophies, take their massy Shield,

And flaming Sword, and fly into the Field.

Some clasp their Helmets on, some snatch their Spear,

And polish'd Buckler, and in Arms appear.

Ensigns display'd, and Trumpets voice delight

The Saxon Youth, and martial Minds excite.

The lighted Beacons from the Hills declare,

As blazing Comets do, approaching War,

The flaming Signals giv'n, the Regions round

With Hors'men, Arms, and warlike noise resound.

As when

In some great Town a Fire breaks out by Night,

And fills with crackling Flames, and dismal Light,

With Sparks, and Pitchy Smoak th' astonish'd Sky,

Th' affrighted Guards, that first the Flame espy,

Straight give th' Alarm, and spread the dreadful Cry.

Th' amaz'd Inhabitants the Signal take.

And run in Crowds half cloath'd, and half awake,

To stop the spreading Ruin, and to tame

With spouting Engines the destructive Flame.

So when the frightful Cry of War begun,

Into the Fields in Troops the " Saxons" run.

Now " Muse" relate, and in their Order name

The People, that from different Regions came.

What fam'd Commanders did their Squadrons head,

And what great Lords their valiant Subjects led,

First the stout " Cantian" Saxon, from the Land,

That bravely once did " Csar" 's Arms withstand,

Where Joyful Nature, sits in Plenty crown'd,

" Hesperian" Woods, and Sylvan Scenes surround,

Her shady Throne, that with rich Fruit abound.

Of these some on the flowry Banks reside,

Of fair " Medvaga" , that with wanton Pride,

Forms silver Mazes with her crooked Tide.

The " Durobrovian" Youth of war-like Fame,

And bold " Vagniacans" , together came,

With those about the fruitful Region bred,

Where " Durovernum" , reers her stately Head.

They march from " Thanotos" , and from her Towers,

Her valiant Youth sublime " Rutupia" pours.

" Rutupia" , whose rich Gems, and Pearly Store

Inticed Victorious " Csar" , to her Shore.

Their chief Commanders were great " Amades" ,

Valiant Theodorick, " Osred" , and with these

" Hengist" , a splendid Youth, the Blood, and Name

Of the first " Saxon" , of Illustrous Fame,

That from the " Belgick" Shore, to " Albion" came.

From the fat Glebe they come, and flowry Land

Which the stout " Trinobantes" , did Command.

" Augusta" sends her warlike Youth, a Town

Of ancient Fame, to Forraign Merchants known,

Ev'n then for Naval Power of great Renown.

But since her stately Head is rais'd so high,

Her glorious Towers surmount the wondring Sky.

Her Royal Fleets the watry World controll,

Where the vast Ocean can his Billows roll,

Far as the " Indies" , and from Pole to Pole.

Her Power by trembling, Neighbour States is fear'd,

By distant Empires, and new Worlds rever'd.

Her bellowing Oaks, with louded Thunder roar,

Then what annoy'd them, on their Hills before,

Shaking the " Gallick" , and the " Belgian" Shore.

" Britannia" 's Head she reigns in Wealth and Ease,

Mart of the World, and Emp'ress of the Seas.

Edgar and Cissa, both Illustrious Names,

From the delightful Banks of famous Thames,

Into the Field, " Augusta" 's Squadrons bring,

None fought more bravely for the " Saxon" King.

They from the Forests come, whose Sports invite

" Augusta" 's youth, that in the Woods delight.

From the sweet Gardens of the fruitful East,

With smiling Flowers, and od'rous Saffron blest.

From " Camelodunum" pop'lous once, and proud

Of its fam'd Colony of " Roman" Blood.

From round " Canonium" , arm'd with Swords and Shields,

The warlike People March, and from the Fields

Where " Idumanum" verdant Wealth bestows,

Whose wanton Tide in wreathing Volumes flows,

Still forming Reedy Islands, as it goes.

Brave " Sebert" led them, valiant " Oga" 's Son,

Whose Arms had great Renown in Battel won.

The chearful Youth from " Verolamium" came,

A Town of ancient, and illustrious Fame.

Where fortify'd with Trenches, Lakes and Wood,

The valiant " Casibellan" , once withstood

The " Roman" Arms, oblig'd at last to yield,

Where Csar fights, who can maintain the Field?

Since cherish'd by th' indulgent Conquerour,

The City was advanc'd in Wealth and Power.

Its Towers, gilt Fanes, and Palaces did rise,

Darting Terrestrial Glories thro' the Skies.

Now where the City stood, the Ploughman toils,

And as he works, turns up old " Roman" Spoils,

Medals and Coins, enrich th' admiring Clown,

Pavements and Urns, by ancient Figures known.

From the rich Seats they came, from whence their Sword

The " Coritanian" chas'd, the rightful Lord.

From all the Towns, around the spacious Wood

Near which sublime " Tripontium" 's Castles stood.

From " Bannavenna" well-arm'd Squadrons came,

And " Durobrevis" , on Aufona's Stream.

Their chief Commanders were brave " Alopas" ,

And valiant " Egbert" , both of " Horsa" 's Race.

They came, who dwelt along the Southern Coast,

On which the " German" Ocean's Waves are tost.

The Soil the brave " Icenian Briton" s blest

With Peace, and envy'd Plenty, once possest.

" Venta" they left, where " Garienus" Tide,

Does to the Bosom of " Bardunus" glide,

An ancient, wealthy Town that did abound,

With warlike Youth, and rul'd the Soil around.

High " Branodunum" does her Squadrons send,

Where " Roman" Arms, did once the Coast defend.

They leave the Towns along fair " Theta" 's Flood,

And happy Soil, where " Gariononum" stood.

Those from the Banks of winding " Stourus" came,

And the rich Town, that bore " Faustinus" name.

They come from " Oza" 's Banks, and from the Land

Which lofty " Combritonium" did Command.

This numerous " Saxon" Youth, that then obey'd

King " Ella" 's Laws, adavnce to " Octa" 's Aid.

" Ella" their Valiant Prince, was at their Head,

And to the Field, his warlike People led.

From " Camboritum" , and the Neighb'ring Hills,

The chearful Youth drawn out, the Region fills:

From " Camboritum" , then a warlike Town,

Since for the Muses Seat, much better known.

Her learned Sons have gain'd Immortal Fame,

And high as Heav'n, have rais'd " Britannia" 's Name.

" Redwal" , whose Lands a vast Revenue yield,

Led them, compleatly arm'd into the Field.

They leave the reedy Lakes, and marshy Soil,

Once happy by the " British" Farmers Toil.

Now the vext Land a Forreign Master knows,

Which o'er the Country, like a Deluge flows,

That from the Sea, the Banks born down, is roll'd,

And o'er their Fields advances uncontroll'd.

The Valiant Youth from all the Region goes,

Which " Trent" and " Lindis" , confluent Streams, enclose.

High " Margadunum" , all her Squadrons lends,

And stately " Lindum" , which her Power extends

O'er the wide Province, her Battalions sends.

Mighty " Ebissa" , from the Fenny Land

Into the Field, did lead this warlike Band.

" Orla" , and " Imerick" , a Valiant Lord,

Fam'd for his Strength, and vast unweildy Sword,

Drew all their Squadrons, and Battalions forth,

From all their Towns, that lay the farthest North.

King " Cerdic" from the " West" his Army brought,

Who for the " Saxon" Empire bravely fought.

He all the " Saxon" Heros far excell'd,

Whose conquering Arms, were never yet repell'd.

A great Commander, Brave and Fortunate,

That founded first the " Western Saxon" State.

Those seated on " Halenus" verdant Banks

Draw out, and Muster their Victorious Ranks.

They March from " Tresantona" 's Crystal Flood,

From " Venta" '" s" Downs, and " Regnum" 's spacious Wood.

From rich " Clusentum" , and fair " Vecta" 's Isle,

From " Briga" and " Segontium" 's fertile Soil.

On " Sorbiodunum" 's Plains arm'd Youth appears,

With nodding Plumes, and moving Groves of Spears.

The famous Captain, who had chief Command,

That with his Prince came to invade the Land,

Was " Lothar" , born on " Belgick Mosa" 's Flood,

Whose noble Veins were fill'd with Royal Blood:

Him did fair " Emme Cerdic" 's Sister bear,

And dying, left him to her Brother's Care.

With all this Strength King " Octa" takes the Field,

Nor doubts, but " Arthur" to his Arms must yield.

The " Briton" s now a solemn Fast proclaim

To mourn their Guilt, and take th' attendant Shame.

To own the dreadful Plague, their Crimes desert,

And by their Grief, like Judgments to avert.

That Heav'n appeas'd, from its relenting Hand

May drop its Bolt, and spare the threaten'd Land.

Sorrow untaught on every Face appear'd,

And only Sighs and sad Laments were heard.

They weep aloud, and mourn their impious Fall,

And with united Prayers for Mercy call.

The prostrate Penitents for Pardon Cry,

And from Heav'n's Justice, to its Pity fly.

To Grief, and flowing Tears, no Bounds are giv'n,

Th' Artillery alone, that Conquers Heav'n.

Righteous Resolves fill every humble Mind,

And all in Vows of blest Obedience joyn'd.

The mournful Camp's a Scene of pious Woe

Where thro' their Eyes, their Hearts dissolving flow.

Their loud and fervent Supplications, rise

Above the Clouds, and penetrate the Skies.

Contending thus with Heav'n they weep, and pray,

And strive to turn th' impending Storm away,

That charg'd with Vengeance o'er their Camp appear'd,

More Plagues they had deserv'd, and therefore fear'd.

Prince " Arthur" , that in Piety was chief,

And now chief mourner, thus exprest his Grief,

Th' attentive " Briton" s hear, and hope Relief.

Of Wrath Divine, what Vials have been pour'd,

And empty'd on our Heads, that have devour'd

The guilty " Briton" s, and our Camp consum'd;

Where pil'd in Heaps, the Dead, the Dead entomb'd!

Th' Eternal's Sword around did widely wast,

And carried Death, and Ruin where it past.

It reek'd in Blood, and shone with Slaughter dy'd

Red, as the Crimson Sins, that for its Vengeance cry'd.

This day we deprecate the Curse, and all

With wounded Souls, for Heav'n's Compassion call.

To still the Storms of Wrath that on us beat,

And cause the fiery Torrent to retreat.

The God we Worship Jealous is, and Pure,

His " Wrath" advances slow, but reaches sure.

His threat'ning Arm does long extended stay,

But then descends with the more fearful Sway.

Who then can his consuming Fire withstand,

Who bear the strokes of his Revenging Hand?

There's hope your Prayers have found Success above,

And Heav'n aton'd, will this fierce Plague remove.

May ne'er our impious Crimes, his Arm provoke

To end our Ruin, by a second stroke.

He ceas'd. His Men their sacred Vows renew,

And for Devotion to their Tents withdrew.

Where while Celestial Warmth their Breasts extend,

The Day in Prayers, and Hymns of Praise they end.

Heav'n the Returning Penitents embrac'd,

And far away th' Infernal Legions chas'd.

Their Guardian Angels once more take their Post.

Drawn out in bright Array, around their Host.

Twice had the Sun with dawning Glories blest

The World, and call'd the Lab'rer from his rest,

As oft the Night her Sable Vesture, set

With pearly Dew, ascends her Throne of Jet.

When certain Tydings " Arthur" 's Camp alarm'd,

That " Octa" 's Men against the " Briton" s arm'd,

Believing that the " Briton" s thus distrest,

By " Saxon" Arms, might be with Ease opprest.

With " Octa" Leagues, and Overtures of Peace,

When War shall offer more advantage, cease.

The Tydings soon thro' all the Army ran,

Whence in their Minds tormenting Fears began.

They thought their weaken'd Troops, could not oppose

The fierce Attack, of their insulting Foes.

The trouble spreads, all, their sad State bewail,

That those the " Plague" had spar'd, the " Sword" shold now assail.

The pious Prince with heavy Grief opprest,

To Heav'n thus vents the trouble of his Breast.

Thou that from dark " Egyptian" Prisons freed,

As Shepherds do their Flocks, did'st " Israel" lead.

Who from between the Cherubs, did'st display

Thy Heav'nly Glories, to direct their Way.

Whose mighty Arm extended, did secure

Their trembling Host, pursu'd by " Pharoah" 's Power.

Shine forth, and with thy Beams dispel this Night,

Whose horrid Shades, my lab'ring Soul affright.

Stir up thy Strength, thy Foes, and ours invade,

And bring thy shining Myriads to our Aid.

Thou God of Light, reveal thy glorious Face,

Thy Rays will from the Sky, this Tempest chase.

Thee, all the unnumber'd Hosts of Heav'n obey,

Drawn in embattl'd Lines, and bright Array

Along th' Etherial Plains, and here below

Monarchs to thee, precarious Empires owe.

Prest by our Enemies, to thee we fly,

How long wilt thou neglect thy People's Cry?

Bath'd in our Tears, and pleas'd with Grief, we moan

Our solitary State, for God is gone.

Our Foes around, despise our Mournful State,

And on those Loads that press us, heap more Weight.

Our Enemies enrag'd, no Mounds between,

On us, like rising Waves, come roaring in.

Against the Reliques thy fierce Wrath has spar'd,

The Foe's Inexorable Sword's prepar'd.

On me with Scorn th' insulting Scoffers look,

As one, whom Heav'n displeas'd has now forsook.

The " Pagans" make my Woes their sprotful Theam.

Reproach thy Vot'ries, and thy Name blaspheme.

Stir up thy Power, thy glitt'ring Arms assume,

Bowing the Heav'ns, to our Deliverance come.

As from th' aspiring Mountains, rais'd around

" Jerusalem" , while it stood, Protection found.

So let a Guard, from thy bright Host detach'd,

T'encamp about our Army be dispatch'd.

Thou God of Truth arise, let th' Heathen see,

Thy Wrath pursues perfidious Treachery.

While thus Prince " Arthur" Heav'ns Protection sought,

The God-like " Raphael" , this kind Message brought.

Thy Prayer prevails, O Prince, be not dismay'd,

Th' " Almighty" 's Arm is strecht out of your Aid.

Highly your Crimes Heav'n's Majesty displeas'd,

But your Repentance hath his Wrath appeas'd.

His People's Faults do but his Rod employ,

But his fierce Vengeance shall his Foes destroy.

Let not the " Saxon" 's Numbers be their Pride,

You're stronger far, for God is on your Side

Abundantly your Loss is thus Supply'd.

Arise, and let the " Briton" s Courage take,

Their Arms shall drive th' advancing " Saxon" back.

The Prince with " Raphael" 's heav'nly Message cheer'd,

" Octa" 's unequal force, no longer fear'd.

His chearful Looks the drooping " Briton" s saw,

And thence reviving Warmth, and Courage draw.

His God-like Language calms their troubled Minds,

And with its Charms reluctant Passions binds.

He to their frozen Veins new Life procures,

Dispels their Doubts, and fainting Hopes assures.

The " Briton" s that before did scarecely dare

T'expect it, now resolve to meet the War.

They now no more the Fears of Danger own,

While Heav'n assists, and " Arthur" leads them on.

Mean time illboding Prodigies affright

King " Octa" , and disswade his Men from Fight,

The Birds of Heav'n the gazing " Augurs" scare,

Crossing with inauspicious Flights the Air!

The Fowl as sacred kept, projected Meat,

Coldly regard, and sullenly retreat.

From hollow Oaks, obscene Night Ravens sung,

And clustring Bees upon their Ensigns hung.

Bullocks with Garlands crown'd reluctant come,

Break from the Altar, and run lowing home.

Near silver " Thamisis" sweet Banks, there stood

Awful for solemn Shade, a lofty Wood.

Where they ador'd their God " Irmansul" nam'd,

A war-like Idol, thro' " Germania" fam'd.

His Right Hand did a flowry Garland bear,

His Left held up a Balance in the Air.

His Breast a grisly Bear's fierce Figure bore,

And in his Shield a Lyon seem'd to roar.

Fresh gather'd Flowers dispers'd in Heaps around,

Gay Superstition, paint their sacred Ground.

Hither the " Saxons" , and their Priests repair,

T'atone their God, with " Victims" and with Prayer.

His Aid against the " Briton" s to invoke,

While the tall Oaks with Clouds of Incense smoak.

The Priests the Wood to burn the Victim lay,

And a crown'd Bullock at the Altar slay.

Their reeking Hands, ransack in vain the Breast,

To find the Heart of the prodigious Beast.

The Priests grow pale, and from their Altar start,

Finding a " Victim" slain without a Heart.

But that which most the gazing " Saxons" scare,

Are Armies seen engaging in the Air.

The highest ground of all th' heavenly Way,

The Sun had gain'd, darting a downright Ray.

When two black Clouds appear'd, one from the East

Threat'ning arose, the other from the West.

They stretcht their lowring Fronts across the Sky,

And frowning, seem'd each other to defy.

Between a Glade of free and open Air,

Did, as betwixt two spacious Woods, appear.

Then issuing from the Womb of either Cloud,

Two Armies met, and drawn in Battel stood.

The sick'ning Sun shone with a gloomy Ray,

Scar'd with the bloody Business of the Day.

Between them straight began a furious Fight,

And glitt'ring Arms supply'd the want of Light.

Eager of Glory from Heroick Deeds,

The Airy Knights spur on their foaming Steeds.

They rush to Battel with a full Career,

And tilting break their Lances in the Air.

Swords clashing Swords, and Shields rencountring Shields,

Fill with the Din of War th' Etherial Fields.

Vaulting the Air, thick Showers of Arrows fly,

And warlike Labour troubles all the Sky.

A Bloody Field was fought, and Heaps of Slain

Seem'd to o'erspread the wide Etherial Plain.

Chariots o'erturn'd, and scatter'd Harness by,

Steeds, and dismounted Riders, mingled ly.

From gaping Wounds, a Crimson Sea of Blood,

Along the Heav'nly Pavement reeking flow'd.

At last the Squadrons, in the Eastern Sky

Fell in Disorder, and began to fly.

The Conquerours hung upon their Backs, and chas'd

Their Troops, with mighty Rout thro' all the Wast

Into the Clouds and Heav'nly Wilds they fled,

And left upon the Bloody Field their Dead.

Next off the Theater the Victors go,

And into shapeless Air dissolving flow.

The lab'ring Scene, and Actors disappear'd,

And of the War the Airy Stage was clear'd.

" Octa" that view'd th' important Prodigy,

Trembled to see the Eastern Army fly.

He wisely hid his Fears within his Breast,

And to his Captains thus himself exprest.

Let not vain Prodigies the " Saxons" scare,

Form'd by the wanton Demons of the Air.

Wrapt in dark Clouds, the Will of Heav'n's conceal'd,

To Mortals only by th' Event reveal'd.

Think not fantastick Portents can declare

The Fate of Kingdoms, and Results of War.

These only weak, and vulgar Minds affright,

Like Phantoms, borrowing Horrour from the Night.

Which, as capricious Nature's Play, the wise

From timerous Superstition free, despise.

The valiant on their Arms make Fortune wait,

And carve out to themselves propitious Fate.

Neglect these Dreams, the Gods are ever kind

To the best Troops, and to th' undaunted Mind.

Great " Csar" thus contemn'd his Augurs Tales,

Fights, and o'er Foes, and Portents too, prevails.

Thus " Octa" strove their Passion to appease,

And give them what himself enjoy'd not, Ease.

At a small Village now unknown by Name,

There dwelt a Sorcerer of wondrous Fame.

The Pagan " Briton Merlin" , that of late

For his dire Art, driv'n from the " British" State;

Did with the Pagan " Saxons" safely dwell,

And kept his Correspondence up with Hell.

With potent Juices, and infernal Charms,

The black Magician, Plagues, and Mortal Harms,

And various Kinds of Mischiefs did inflict

On those, whom Heav'n was pleas'd he should afflict.

He in the silent Night while Mortals sleep,

By Hedg-rows, Lakes, or o'er the Hills would creep.

To gather baleful Herbs, with which he drew

Familiar Fiends, that round, like Ravens, flew.

Mounting his Magick Wand, he thro' the Air

To rich Nocturnal Feasts would oft repair,

Spread on green Hills, or near some shady Wood,

Or Grassy Banks of some sweet River's Flood;

Where when th' infernal Company are met,

Rich Meats, and Wines on stately Tables set

They seem to taste, and by the Moon's pale Light,

Spend in Fantastick Luxury, the Night.

But from th' imaginary Banquet come,

At the grey Dawning, lank and meagre, home.

King " Octa" 's Servants at their Lord's Command,

With their unrighteous Wages in their Hand,

To Merlin come, and soon prevaild to bring

The fam'd Magician, to their anxious King.

Whom " Octa" thus bespoke,

The Miracles, your sacred Art has shown,

Make you thro' all the wondring Island known.

Let your prodigious Power my Army Guard,

Honour and Riches shall be your Reward.

The Foe we'll now engage, but let him first

Be here by you, and your Enchantments curst.

Curse then this impious Enemy your Breath

Will blast their Strength, and fatal prove as Death.

Your Curse and that of Fate, is deem'd the same.

And whom you bless the World does blest proclaim.

Assault their Camp with all your magick Powers,

You'll curse your mortal Foes, as well, as ours.

Revenge your Wrongs, and by your potent Charms,

Draw off the Guardian Gods, that help their Arms.

Come with me then, I will a Mountain shew,

From whose high Top you may their Army view.

There we'll atone the Gods with Prayer and thence

You shall your Curses on the Foe dispense.

Then " Octa" to a Mount the Sorc'rer led,

Whence thro' the Vale he saw the " Briton" s spred.

Seven Altars they erect, and in the Flames,

Seven Bullocks sacrifice, and seven Rams.

Here " Octa" and his Lords, their Gods ador'd,

And kneeling round the Flames, their Aid implor'd.

At last, the Night advancing to her Noon,

" Merlin" conducted by the silver Moon,

From " Octa" , to a neighb'ring Hill withdraws,

T'observe infernal Rites, and magick Laws.

He seeks out noxious Plants, whose powerful Juice,

Magicians for their strong Enchantments use.

Green Henbane, Wormwood, Hemlock, Savine Tops,

In whose prest Juice he dipt his magick Sops;

With Plants that to the Moon their Vertue owe,

And Toadstools, that from Storms of Thunder grow.

Which mixt with humane Fat, red Hair, and Blood,

He offers up cast on the Burning Wood.

Then with his potent Wand, he walks around,

And with dire Circles, marks th' enchanted ground.

Then did he with a mutt'ring Voice rehearse

Wondrous, mysterious Words, and potent Verse.

Th' infernal Charms all Nature did affright,

The waning Moon straight sickned at the Sight.

The Hill with Horror trembled, and around

With howling Wolves the neighb'ring Woods resound.

Then Storms of Rain ensue, swift Lightnings fly,

And dreadful Thunderclaps torment the Sky.

Spectres, and Ghosts break from their hollow Tomb,

And glaring round the Necromancer come.

All Hell was mov'd, the Powers drawn from their Seats

Arise, while " Merlin" his dire words repeats.

Whom with his Charms he labours to engage

Against the " Briton" s, and excites their Rage.

His powerful Arts incline them to employ

United force, their Army to destroy.

But Hell and all its Friends, vain Rage express,

And Curse in vain, when Heav'en designs to Bless.

" Merlin" his impious Ceremonies done,

Returns to " Octa" with the rising Sun.

Before the " Saxon" Lords he stood, prepar'd

To Curse their Foes, and merit his Reward.

When the Magician's Breast an unknown Fire

Laps'd from above did suddenly inspire.

A warmth Divine his Spirits did invade,

And once a Sorcerer, a Prophet made.

The Heav'nly Fury " Merlin" did constrain

To Bless, whom he to Curse design'd in vain.

How Beautiful the " Briton" 's Tents appear?

What goodly Heads his Tabernacles Rear?

As the rich Vales they spread their verdant Pride,

Or flowry Gardens by the River's side.

As shady Aloes in th' " Arabian" Woods,

Or lofty Cedars planted by the Floods.

Indulgent Heav'n upon the " Briton" pours

Prolifick Dews, and sweet refreshing Showers.

His Seed shall flourish midst surrounding Streams,

Blest with mild Air, and pure reviving Beams.

His Prince's Glory, shall his People's Love,

And Neighbour Monarchs Fear, and Envy, move.

He, like a fearless Unicorn shall stand,

Sure of his strength, and all the Fields command.

Those hostile Nations who oppose his Power,

He with resistless Fury shall devour.

He'll break their crashing Bones, his Bow he'll bend,

And thro' their Flesh, his piercing Arrows send.

He couches like a Lyon on the Sand,

Like a vast Lyon in a Desart Land.

Stretching his fearful Limbs at Ease he lies,

What Creature dares provoke him to arise?

Bless him, and be of happy Men the first,

Curse him, and thou thy self shalt be accurst.

He ceas'd. King " Octa" tho incens'd, supprest

His Trouble and Displeasure in his Breast,

And to the Sorcerer, thus himself addrest.

By solemn Execrations, to devote

The " Briton" s to Destruction, you were sought.

But, you this impious Nation chuse to Bless,

And all your Words presage their Arms success.

Withdraw a second time, perhaps you'll find

The Gods, by your Enchantments more inclin'd.

Perhaps some Errour might at first displease,

A second Essay will the Powers appease.

The Sorcerer a second time retreats,

And all his potent Charms with Care repeats.

He added ev'ry poisonous Juice, and Spell

He knew had force to shake the Realms of Hell.

" Merlin" his impious Rites perform'd, returns,

And acted by Satanick Fury burns.

All Hell within shook the Magician's Breast,

But by a Power Divine straight dispossest;

Th'affrighted Demons fled, and in their stead

A pure Celestial Spirit did succeed.

Transports Divine, his lab'ring Soul engage,

And thus he spake, mov'd with Prophetick Rage.

In vain with Divination, we assail

The " Christian" Arms, where all Enchantments fail.

Our Curses by the powerful Breath of Heav'n,

Back on our Heads, with fatal Force are driv'n.

Those God has blest, no Guards nor Bulwarks need,

Nor can their Arms, whom he has curst, succeed,

Unchangeably he's on his Purpose bent,

Nor do's he, like unstable Man, repent.

The " Christian" Army will prevail, that said,

Observing " Octa" 's Fury rise, he fled.

The King incens'd, cry'd, curst Magician fly,

Spite of thy Charms, and thee, shall Victory,

And Triumph, on the " Saxon" Arms attend,

Against such Troops what Signs can ill portend?

Thy impious Tongue Propitious Heav'n belies;

And for the " Briton" s forges Prophecies.

Thy self of " British" Blood, the " British" Cause

Stronger than Wrongs, or ev'n Religion draws.

So oft poor Slaves, who to a neighb'ring State

Fly for Protection from a Tyrants Hate,

If he does War against those Neighbours wage,

And with his Arms, upon their Frontiers rage.

Joy at th' Oppressor's Conquests and Success,

Against their own Protector's, they express.

" Octa" at this Defeat with Fury burn'd,

And to his Army with his Lords return'd.

Amidst his Troops he rode, and thus he spoke,

His Voice high rais'd their Courage to provoke.

" Saxons" , you now to certain Conquest go,

To glean the Reliques of a ruin'd Foe.

The Gods do loudly for your cause declare,

And call you, but to finish their own War.

Think on the Deeds by your great Nation done

The Towns they took, their glorious Battles won,

And the Rich Countries by their Arms o'er run,

From this fair Island shall the " Briton" s chase,

From these sweet Fields, great " Odin" 's warlike Race?

From these sweet Fields, for which our Leaders fought,

Which with the noblest " Saxon" Blood were bought.

Shall we with ignominious Flight retreat,

O'er the rough Main, to seek some milder Seat?

Or shall we back to our cold Region go,

To hide in Caves, and dwell Hills of Snow?

Can my victorious Friends the " Briton" s dread,

Who from your conquering Arms so oft have fled,

A vanquish'd Nation, by an Exile led?

Appear like " Saxons" , add this Conquest more,

To all th' immortal Laurels won before.

Thus you'll the Grounds of lasting Empire lay,

And still the " Briton" shall your Laws obey.

Vain with Success at Sea, they draw their Swords,

And for Dominion strive with us, their Lords.

Let now your Arms chastise their wanton Pride,

And then in unmolested Peace abide.

He said, and brandish'd his threatning Launce,

And springing forward, bids his Men advance.

Now from the Hills th' embattel'd " Saxon" Swarms,

And covers all the Plain with hostile Arms.

As when the great Commanders, Orders give

To quit the straight Dominions of their Hive,

The Bees pour out a numerous Colony;

From their sweet Cells, the busie Youth on high

Wheel in the Air, and darken all the Sky.

While brazen Pans charm and compose their Heat,

In some tall neighb'ring Tree they fix their Seat.

Thither th' unnumber'd Vulgar straight resort,

And clustring Crowds, surround their Monarch's Court.

So thick the " Saxons" on the Field appear,

Following their Leader with an endless Rear.

The gloomy Throngs look terrible from far,

Disclosing slow, the horrid Face, of War.

The thick Battalions move in dreadful Form,

As lowring Clouds advance before a Storm.

So when the Sea grown black, the hazy Sky,

And rising Winds, foretel a Tempest nigh.

Th' experienc'd Mariners with hasty care

Furl their spread Sails, and for a Storm prepare.

Straight in the black " Horizon" , to the Skies

The dusky Billows threat'ning Heads arise.

Th' unnumber'd Troops upon each others throng,

And with a gloomy Aspect march along.

Advancing, they their boundless Front extend

O'er all the Main, and fearful Wreck portend.

The " Saxon" Host thus in its March appears,

And where it came, thick Groves of bristling Spears,

Broad Iron Backs, and Breast-plates, brazen Shields,

Mail-Coats, and burnish'd Helms o'erspread the Fields.

Chariots of War in Clouds of Dust advance,

And tossing up their Foam, the thundring Coursers Prance.

Their Army's Wings stretcht out, they to the Foes

A long extended Ridge of War oppose.

The " British" Squadrons tho outnumber'd far,

Run boldly on the horrid Edge of War.

To make their Front, the thin Battalions ran,

But stretcht not equal to the " Saxon Van".

Both Armies thus, rang'd in Battalia stood,

And Death prepar'd her thirsty Jaws for Blood.

From the Celestial Host, a glorious Band

Of Seraphs was detach'd by high Command.

Hither the shining Warriours did repair,

And drawn in long Array, stood in the Air.

Their Blades divinely temper'd flam'd on high,

And blazing Shields inlighten all the Sky;

Impenetrable Shields, drawn from the Towers

Of Heav'n's high Ars'nal, fill'd with warlike Stores.

Th' Angelick Cuirassiers, in Armour shone

Of " Adamant" , from Rocks Empyreal hewn.

High milk white Plumes, like Snowy Clouds arise,

From their bright Crests, and Nod against the Skies.

Rich Helmets, of Immortal beaten Gold

Adorn their Heads, Brass of Etherial mould

Refin'd above, their joynted Gauntlets made;

Brass, that the Teeth of Time can ne'er invade.

Broad silver Belts richly embroider'd o'er,

Rare Seraphs work, their shining Shoulders bore

And round them Sky-dy'd Purple Scarfs they wore.

" Michael" a Prince in Heav'n of first renown,

Who, like a Sun, high in his Chariot shone;

This bright Detachment did in Chief Command,

Charg'd to maintain strict Guard, and to withstand

Th' Attempts, that might by Hellish Fiends be made,

Sent by their Prince the Christian to invade.

While " Lucifer" on the white Mountain's Head,

His black, Infernal Crew about him spread;

With Malice, Rage, and Pride extended sate

High on his dusky Throne, resolv'd to wait,

And see, if this important Day's Event,

Would answer with success, his curst intent.

In glitt'ring Arms the dazling Prince appears,

Before his Troops, the " Saxon" sees, and fears.

His Helm of polish'd Steel brac'd round his Head,

Did o'er the Field, a glorious Terrour spread.

Bright Stones, and high rais'd Needle Work adorn

The shining Belt across his Shoulders worn.

His fatal Sword, the Bane of " Gothick" Pride,

With fearful Grace hung by his warlike Side.

" Odar" the " Neustrian" of this famous Blade

Inur'd to Victory, a Present made

To " Arthur" , when from " Albion" first he came,

To " Odar" 's Camp, to win Heroick Fame.

" Lodar" did with this Gift King " Odar" grace,

A valiant Hero of the " Neustrian" Race.

His radiant Shield, of Brass its outmost Fold,

Th' inmost temper'd Steel, the midst of Gold,

Was the rare Work of Lycon's skilful Toil,

From which unpeirc'd, the sharpest Darts recoil.

Bright, like a Sun, it did fierce Glory dart,

Where might be seen pourtray'd with wondrous Art,

Strong Towns besieg'd, and famous Battels won,

And great Exploits by ancient Heros done;

Who to defend their Country, bravely fought,

By Men inspir'd, in sacred Volumes wrote.

Here th' " Israelites" , kind Heav'n's peculiar Care,

Their famous Gen'ral " Joshua" leads to War.

The Rocky Desart past with wondrous Toil,

With Marches worn, and heavy with the Spoil

From vanquish'd " Baashan" and King " Sihon" won,

Where their illustrious Triumphs first begun,

Advance their Ensigns, " Canaan" to invade,

Ripe by their full grown Sins for Conquest made.

To " Jordan" 's Streams they come, straight to his Head

His Waves roll'd back, obsequious " Jordan" fled.

The naked Channel shews his sandy Face,

And gives the Fav'rite Nation leave to pass.

Th' astonish'd " Canaanites" , like " Jordan" , fly,

And weep to see their Guardian River dry.

Here valiant " Gideon" , with his Troop by Night,

March'd out t'attack the haughty " Midianite".

The Foe, like Locusts, numberless was pour'd

Around the Vale, and all its Fruits devour'd.

But dreading " Gideon" 's Arms, the Spoilers fly,

And by his Sword, and by their own, they die.

King " Zeba" , and " Zalmunna" , with a throng

Of Captive Princes, draw their Chains along.

Here in the plain, stretcht like some spacious Wood,

In long Array, the throng'd " Philistines" stood.

" Goliah" issuing from their opening Files,

Of Bulk stupendous, hideous with the Spoils

Of yellow Lyons slain, and shaggy Bears,

Towring before their shouting Host, appears.

With haughty Air, the wondrous Figure strode,

His Sword his Trust, and his right Hand his God.

Beneath his Weight the Vally seem'd to shake,

But his pale Foes did more than seem to quake

Gnashing his Teeth the grinning Monster stood,

Himself an Army, and his Spear a Wood.

Sufficient Stores whole Mines could scarcely yield,

For his wide Cuirass, and prodigious Shield.

Where Figures pourtray'd of fierce Monsters shone,

But none so fierce, and monstrous as his own.

High in the Clouds his brazen Helm did show

Like some vast Temple's gilded " Cupilo".

His mighty Legs, that brazen Boots embrac'd,

Tall Pillars seem'd, with " Corinth" Mettal cas'd.

Thus arm'd he stood, and by his Mein did seem

To curse aloud, to threaten and blaspheme.

His beck'ning Hand held proudly up, invites

To combate, all the trembling " Hebrew" Knights.

Tho vast of Bulk he bigger swells with Pride,

He curst their Army, and their Gods defy'd.

Here, God-like " David" , in the flowry Bloom

Of Youth, and Beauty, brings the Monster's Doom.

To kindle Love, or Pity fitter far,

Then the rough Passions, that attend on War.

And likelier by his Youth's engaging Charms,

To wound the " Anakite" , then with his Arms.

Yet bravely he embrac'd th' unequal War,

And scorn'd his Rage that curst him from afar.

The fatal Stone by the young Hero slung,

Cut thro' the Air, and sure of Triumph sung.

It pierc'd the " Cyclops" Head, his Carcass fell

Swift to the Ground, his Soul, as swift to Hell.

Faln on his Face, he bites the trembling Ground.

And Brains, and Gore break thro' the gaping Wound.

Wallowing he lay a vast extended Load,

Like a great Island, in a Sea of Blood.

His ghastly Eye-balls strive with parting Light,

And swim, and roll into eternal Night.

Here " Saul" receiv'd the charming conquering Boy,

The Captains blush'd for Shame, and wept for Joy.

His Brothers griev'd to see the glorious Day,

Prompted with Pride, and Envy shrunk away.

Here " Judah" 's Daughter flowry Garlands bring,

They crown young " David" , and presage him King.

In Songs and Dances they his Deeds proclaim,

And " Saul" 's is lessen'd, to advance his Fame.

Here mighty " Sampson" , hot with Martial Rage,

A numerous Army does alone engage.

His Sword high wav'd, reeking in Sweat and Blood,

O'er slaughter'd Heaps, th' invading Conqueror strode.

His fatal Arms, his Foes no longer bear,

But their whole Host flies from his single Spear.

Confus'dly o'er the Field lay spread about,

Wide Ruin, Spoils, and ignominious Rout.

Here valiant " David" 's Troops victorious come,

From their " Assyrian" Expedition home.

Vast were the Spoils, which from the glorious Day

Won on " Damascus" 's Plains, they bore away.

King " Hadadezer" 's Arms in Triumph born,

And Purple Robes by their soft Princes worn,

And sparkling Gems, that did their Ears adorn.

Rich Collars, Chains, and blazing Shields of Gold,

Vast Silver Bowls, that richer Metal hold.

High gilded Dishes, graven or emboss'd,

Treasure immense, that " Syria" had engross'd.

Purple Pavilions once in lofty Rows,

And Crimson Beds, where Monarchs did repose.

Unnumber'd Camels, laden and opprest,

With all th' Luxury of the wanton East,

Beneath the Booty groan'd along the Road,

Themselves a Prey, as was their precious Load.

Here ran gilt Chariots drawn by generous Steeds,

Such as the noble Soil of " Asia" breeds.

Here Royal Captives, and chain'd Lords appear,

And vulgar Slaves, prest with an endless Reer.

Here the great " Constantine" of " British" Race,

O'er " Tyber" 's Bridge, does fierce " Maxentius" chase.

With " Roman" blood the swelling Rivers dy'd,

And Helms, and Shields swim down the Crimson Tyde.

Spears, broken Armour, Men, and Coursers slain,

The Streams encumber, and the Flood detain.

Great " Constantine" in glitt'ring Armour shines,

And pressing on, breaks thro' the " Roman" Lines.

" Maxentius" Hopes are blasted in the Bloom,

He flies, and opens wide the Gates of " Rome" ,

To the Victorious Christian, and his God,

Where for a while, he made his blest abode.

Book Viii

Thus in resplendent Arms Prince " Arthur" shines,

Darting bright Terrour thro' the " Saxon" Lines.

All at his fearful Presence were amaz'd,

And on the glorious Foe with Wonder gaz'd.

Confusion seiz'd them, and a chilling Damp

Went to their Hearts, thro' all the trembling Camp.

And now the vaulted Sky rings with the Noise

Of Souldiers Shoutings, and shrill Trumpets Voice.

The " British" Prince waving his flaming Blade,

The " Saxons" 's strong Battalions did invade.

First " Baldred" fell a bold and daring Knight,

That rushing forward did his Fate invite.

The Javelin thro' his Shield of treble Hide,

And Coat of Mail, pierc'd deep into his Side.

" Eska" the second Triumph did afford,

His Head stroock off by " Arthur" 's conquering Sword.

Next groveling on the Ground great " Ina" lies,

And the brave " Orla" of stupendous Size.

Whose Clubs like that " Alcides" us'd to weild,

Laid whole Brigades, on Heaps upon the Field.

Neither their Arms, nor Stature, nor Descent,

From mighty " Osca" could their Fate prevent.

As " Pharo" boasted loud, and threatn'd Death,

The Javelin pierc'd his Throat, and stop'd his Breath.

" Kinullar" next the conquering Prince withstood,

A valiant Captain, and of noble Blood.

Resisted by his Shield the " Saxon" 's Spear

Flew off, and pass'd obliquely thro' the Air.

Here on the Prince " Cissa" exclaiming loud,

Rush'd in, and press'd him with a numerous Crowd.

Thick showers of Javelins with a mighty Sound,

Like Storms of Hail, from his bright Shield rebound.

The Prince enrag'd caught up his Spear in hast,

Which he at " Cissa" with such Fury cast

It pierc'd his famous Buckler's seventh Fold,

And his rich Coat dawb'd thick with pond'rous Gold.

Then deep between the Paps the Weapon went,

And its last Force in his warm Bosom spent.

Flat on his Face the Bleeding " Saxon" lies,

And rat'ling in his Throat stretcht out, and dies.

" Mollo" rush'd in and with his hand did wrest

The bloody Weapon from his Brother's Breast,

And boldly to attack the Prince advanc'd,

But from his shield th' unprosperous Weapon glanc'd.

The Prince's Spear thro' " Mollo" 's Sheild of Brass

Thro' His Habergion, and his Breast did pass,

" Mollo" of Sense bereav'd fell to the Ground,

And spew'd black Blood, both from his Mouth and Wound,

Striving th' invading Hero to repel,

" Alcinor" , " Peda" , and " Darontes" fell,

Three Men of wondrous Strength and warlike Fame,

Who from the farthest Snows of " Scythia" came;

Descended all from " Otha" 's noble Line,

Whose glorious Deeds in " Saxon" Records shine.

He was victorious " Odin" 's constant Friend,

And all his Toils, and Conquests did attend,

Then " Cerdic" with his Troops the Prince withstands,

Sustain'd by " Sebert" , and th' " East Saxon" Bands.

Now these, now those, the " British" Prince attack,

And press on every side, to force him back.

As when two adverse Hurricanes arise,

Must'ring their stormy Forces in the Skies.

Of equal Fury, and of equal Force,

Against each other bend their rapid Course.

The Clouds their Lines extend in black Array,

And Front to Front a fearful War display.

Exploded Flames against each other fly,

And fiery Arches Vault th' inlighten'd Sky.

Conflicting Billows, against Billows dash,

Thunder 'gainst Thunder roars, Lightnings 'gainst Lightnings flash.

Nor Flames, nor Winds, nor Waves, nor Clouds will yield,

But equal strength maintains a doubtful Field.

" Briton" s and " Saxons" thus in Battel stove,

And neither from their Ground the Foe remove.

Then Valiant " Cadwal" threat'ning from afar

High in his Chariot, plung'd into the War.

His strong, extended Arm his Javelin flung;

Cutting the Air, the hissing Weapon sung.

Falling on " Kingills" Shield it pierc'd the Hide

Of treble Fold, and enter'd deep his Side.

Fainting and stagg'ring " Kingill" backwards reel'd

Then fell with sounding Arms upon the Field.

Gasping he lay, and from his ghastly Wound,

His Crimson Life ebb'd out upon the Ground.

And next his fatal Shaft at " Bertac" flew

With mighty Force, and pierc'd his Breastplate thro'.

The secret Springs of Life the pointed Dart.

Broke open, and transfixt his generous Heart.

His Wound from gaping Channels inward bled,

And on his Shoulder hung his lolling Head.

He fell, and shivering gasp'd his latest Breath,

And fainting sunk into the Arms of Death:

A noble Youth worthy of milder Fate,

But Death's blind Stroaks distinguish not the great.

At last the " Saxon" Troops in Throngs surround,

The valiant King, Thus far with Conquest crown'd.

Thick Showers of Darts from every Side invade,

And in his Shield a bristling Harvest staid.

Th' undaunted Hero long thier Force sustain'd,

And held at Bay; th' unequal War maintain'd:

Like a chas'd Boar that in a sheltring Wood,

The clam'rous Dogs surround King " Cadwall" stood.

A noble Rage did in his Breast arise,

And Streaks of Fire break from his burning Eyes.

So when by Night th' Islandian Ocean roars,

And rolls its angry Waters to the Shores.

Flashes of Light, and fiery Lustre glance

From raging Waves, that in bright Troops advance.

With his refulgent Sword the Warriour flew,

Upon the Crowd, and cut his Passage thro'.

" Soga" and " Kenrick" from the Hilly Land

Where " Sorbiodunum" 's lofty Castles stand;

Two constant Friends, whom Fate could not divide,

Together by the " Briton" s Weapon dy'd.

Then " Redburg Alfry" and " Theodrick" fell,

Striving in vain the Victor to repell.

Great Numbers more he slew, whose vulgar Name

To those, in after Ages never came.

As a high Rock, which the vast Ocean laves,

Expos'd to stormy Winds, and raging Waves,

On its fixt Base unshaken does defy

Th' united Fury of the Seas, and Sky.

So 'midst surrounding Foes, brave " Cadwall" stood,

About him flow'd a Sea of Hostile Blood.

He slew " Rovennar" , with his mighty Sword,

And " Saradan" a great west " Saxon" Lord.

Valiant " Elmunor" , to his Country dear,

And " Osith" dy'd, by his projected Spear.

" Octa" enrag'd to see the numerous Spoils

Round " Cadwall" spread, sprung thro' the thronging Files.

Rushing with Fury on, and threatning high

He thus aloud, did to the " Briton" cry.

" Cadwall" on me let all your Force be spent,

Hither be all your pointed Javelins sent.

Here see a Foe that will your Pride abate,

Or in the glorious Combate meet his Fate:

At this his massy Spear with Vigour sent,

Thro' valiant " Cadwalls" shining Buckler went.

Thro' all the Plates of Brass, and all the Plies

Of thick Bull's Hyde, th' impetuous Weapon flies.

Which bruis'd his Thigh, and springing from his Veins

A crimson Stream his polish'd Armour Stains.

" Cadwall" incens'd his Spear at " Octa" flung,

Which in his temper'd Shield arrested hung.

A second hissing Weapon " Octa" cast,

Which th' interposing Buckler never past.

But glancing on the Steel, away it flew

And with an oblique Stroke, " Idwallo" slew.

Then " Cadwall" chas'd, exerting all his Force,

His second sends, with unresisted Course.

Thro' " Octa" 's brazen Shield it Passage found,

Inflicting on his Side, a painful Wound.

Their missive Weapons spent with equal Chance,

To closer Fight the Combatants advance.

Equal in Strength, alike in Combate brave,

Their Swords on high, like circling Flames they wave.

Both traversing the Ground for Fight prepare,

And with Heroic Ardor meet the War.

And " Octa" first dischar'd a noble Stroke

On " Cadwalls" Crest, which thro' his Helmet broke:

" Cadwall" amaz'd, recoyl'd, and backwards reel'd,

And scarce his Spear his tott'ring Limbs upheld.

A loud Applause rang thro' the shouting Host;

The " Briton" s rag'd, and thought thier Hero lost;

But he recov'ring from th' amazing Blow,

Collects his Strength to meet the insulting Foe.

His brandish'd Blade fell with prodigious Sway,

And thro' the yielding Cuirasse, forc'd its Way.

The gaping Wound pour'd out a Vital Tyde,

And Crimson Streams his burnish'd Armour dy'd.

" Octa" his wounded Body wreaths in Pain,

And viewing on his Limbs the Bloody Stain,

With angry Eyes calls back his Life again.

And then assaults the Foe with doubled Rage,

Who meets his Arms, as eager to engage.

Fresh Strokes, fresh Wounds, they give on either side,

While Vict'ry does for neither Sword decide.

Weak with their Wounds, and with bruis'd Armour pain'd,

An equal, noble Combate they maintain'd.

Feeble and Breathless still they kept the Field,

Unable more their blunted Arms to wield.

And now the Throng rush'd in, the Combat done

By neither Hero lost, by neither won.

And rending with their Shouts the tortur'd Air,

Back to their Files, the Combatants they bear.

So when two valiant Cocks in " Albion" bred,

That from th' insulting Conquerour never fled

A Match in Strength, in Courage, and in Age,

And with keen Weapons arm'd alike Engage;

Each other they assault with furious Beaks,

And their trim'd Plumes distain with bloody Streaks.

Each nimble Warriour from the Pavement bounds,

And wing'd with Death, their Heels deal ghastly Wounds.

By turns they take, by turns fierce Strokes they give,

And with like Hopes and Fears, for Conquest strive.

Both obstinate maintain the Bloody Field,

Both can in Combat dye, but neither yield,

Till with their bleeding Wounds grown weak and faint,

And choak'd with flowing Gore they gasp, and pant.

Disabled on the Crimson Floor they ly,

Both Honour win, but neither Victory.

Then " Morogan" , his Javelin in his Hand,

Charg'd the fierce Troops where " Ella" did Command.

" Wigmunda" , first his deadly Weapon felt,

Who on the flowry Banks of " Oza" dwelt,

Faln on the ground, the " Saxon" groan'd aloud,

And dying, lay deform'd with Dust and Blood.

Next " Ethelbright" he slew, the Javelin past,

Thro' the brave Leader's Hand, where sticking fast

He from the Battel fled, and thro' the throng

Complaining loud, trail'd the huge Spear along.

To fight the " Briton" , " Thedred" did advance

And in his Buckler broke his pondrous Lance.

High in the Air the scatter'd pieces flew,

When " Morogan" , his ample Fauchion drew;

He mist the mighty stroke aim'd at his Crest,

But cleft his Shoulder down into his Chest:

Thro' the prodigious Wound, a Sea of Blood

Spouts from his Veins, and down his Armour flow'd,

Weltring in Gore, upon the Ground he stretcht,

And his last Breath in thick Convulsions fetcht.

Next he his Spear at great " Merthellan" throws,

Thro' Breast, and Back, the deadly Weapon goes.

Then warlike " Ella" , with excessive Rage

All fir'd, advanc'd the " Briton" to engage.

As two chaf'd Lyons on a " Lybian" Plain,

Contending which shall o'er the Desart reign,

With raging Eyes, and fierce erected Hair,

Scowr o'er the Sands, to meet the horrid War;

So furious " Ella" , and great " Morogan" ,

Eager of Conquest, to the Combat ran.

The " Saxon" first his massy Javelin flung,

With the vast Stroke, the " Briton" 's Target rung,

The Temper'd Steel the Weapon did repel,

Which flew aside, and at a Distance fell.

The " Briton" next, did his bright Javelin throw,

" Ella" his Head inclin'd, eludes the Blow.

" Ella" with all his Might his second cast,

Which mist, but stroke the Plume off, as it past

The " Briton" stop'd, and lifted from the Field

A pond'rous Stone, which both his Hands did weild,

So vast, that two in our degenerate Days,

Tho Men of Strength, the like can scarcely raise;

With all his Strength he throws the craggy Stone,

Which thro' King " Ella" 's Leg-piece, crush'd the Bone.

The wounded Warriour fell upon the Plain,

" Adda" advanc'd, the Conquerour to Sustain;

While " Gomel" with his Men did " Ella" bear

From the hot Place of Action, to the Rear,

Where Charioteer, and Steeds, and Chariot stay,

Waiting his coming from the Bloody Day.

Mean time great " Morogan" , had " Adda" slain,

The Spear had thro' his Forehead pierc'd his Brain.

Biting the Ground, th' expiring " Saxon" lies,

And Death's unwelcome shade o'erspreads his Eyes.

And with like Courage, and with like Success,

The brave Prince " Conan" did the " Saxons" press,

Which " Osred" led, great Numbers he destroy'd,

Whose putrid Blood, the slipp'ry Field annoy'd.

" Sefred" , " Carantes" , " Molinoc" he slew,

And " Ethelfrid" , in Arms surpass'd by few.

" Oswy" , and " Bassa" , all of warlike Fame,

And many more, of unrecorded Name.

Thus Valiant " Conan" , triumph'd in the Field,

And all he met, did to his Courage yield.

Until a sculking, unknown hand, at last

Did unperceiv'd, a pointed Javelin cast:

Deep in his Arm, th' inglorious Weapon goes,

His Wound the Blood upon his Armour shows,

He drew the Steel out, from his bleeding Veins,

And from the Field, retir'd in tort'ring Pains.

Mean time, out-number'd in another part,

" Macoe" 's " Danmonian" Troops began to start.

" Macor" to stop their ignominious Flight,

And give them Spirit to renew the Fight;

Now sharp Reproaches us'd, and bitter Threats,

And now with Prayers he earnestly intreats.

Enrag'd, ashamed, and fearing open Rout,

Exclaiming loud, he wildly flew about.

He stays them with his Hands, and Voice, and Eyes,

And to confirm their sinking Courage, cries,

Whither will my " Danmonians" madly run,

And leave behind a Vict'ry almost won?

What pannick Fear does my brave Friends invade?

Till now, you never knew to be afraid.

Think on the Brav'ry you have always shown,

And Laurels you and your great Fathers won.

By their great Deeds, and yours, by " Cador" 's Name,

By all my Hopes and yours which are the same.

By the " Danmonian" Fame, I all conjure

Trust not to Flight, your Arms must you secure.

Who will maintain their Ground, if you recoil?

Thus do you mean to guard your Native Soil?

To what new Seats will you from " Albion" fly?

Or will you in the Rocks and Mountains ly?

" Briton" s return from your inglorous Flight,

Rally your Forces, and renew the Fight.

To Safety, and to Fame the way I'll show,

See, here it lies, across the thickest Foe.

He said, and straight amidst the Troops he flew,

" Osher" the first he met, the first he slew.

He pierc'd his Belly thro' the yielding Shield,

And out his Bowels gush'd upon the Field.

To aid his Friend, constant " Eballan" flies,

But wounded by the " Briton" , with him dies.

Then while " Adulphas" , " Bertham" 's Offspring stands,

Poising a pondrous Stone in both his Hands,

The mighty Fragment of a craggy Rock,

And aim'd at " Macor" 's Head, a deadly Stroke.

Thro' his pierc'd Side the Javelin made its Way,

And buried, in his bleeding Liver lay.

Then you brave Youths, " Egbert" , and " Alopas" ,

Both noble Branches of great " Horsa" 's Race,

Their Age the same, the same their youthful Charms,

Fell in the " British" Fields by " Macor" 's Arms.

This 'twixt the Ribs receiv'd the fatal Dart,

Where transverse Bounds the Breast and Belly part.

Lopt from the Shoulder with a fearful Wound,

T'other's Right Arm lay quivering on the Ground.

Now the " Danmonians" who began to run,

Seeing the Wonders by their Leader done,

With Shame and generous Indignation burn,

And to the War with doubled Rage return.

Then " Macor" let his Spear at " Redwall" fly

In his bright Chariot, passing swiftly by.

It pass'd his Shield, and went into his Reins,

A Purple Flood, springs from his wounded Veins,

And mixt with Dust, the fervid Wheels detains.

Projected headlong on the Ground he lay,

Fetch'd a deep Groan, and gasp'd his Life away.

With like Success his Men no more afraid,

Of " Saxon" Arms, their thickest Files invade.

So when dissolv'd by Summer Rays, the Snow

Do's down the Sides of " Alpine" Mountains flow,

Below the several Rills, and Currents joyn,

And different Streams in one great Flood combine.

Then do's the Deluge rear its foaming Head,

O'er-flow the Banks, and o'er the Meadows spread.

No lofty Mounds arrest th' insulting Tide,

But o'er the flowry Vale, the Waves triumphant ride.

So the " Danmonian" scatter'd Troops unite,

And with associate Arms, revive the Fight.

Here to restrain " Macor" 's victorious Course,

" Bartha" , oppos'd a fresh collected Force.

From his strong Arm his singing Javelin flew,

And passing thro' his Neck " Guitardan" flew.

He hurl'd his Ball of Iron at the Head

Of stout " Gomallador" , and struck him dead.

His Helm in Pieces flew, his Bones were crash'd.

And from his Scull his Blood and Brains were dash'd.

" Macor" incens'd, advances to the Fight,

And pray'd to Heav'n, to guide his Weapon right.

Nor did he pray in vain, th' unerring Dart

Transfixt his Breast, and sunk into his Heart.

Strong " Bartha" fell, the Blood his Armour stains,

And shivering Death crept cold along his Veins.

But to revenge so great a Captain's Fall,

" Lothar" aloud does on his " Saxons" call.

First Lodoic he flew, who stood the Shock,

Of War before unshaken as a Rock.

Strong " Mandubrace" , of whom the " Briton" s tell

Such mighty Deeds, by the brave " Saxon" fell.

Beauteous " Codunan" the Silurians Pride,

And warlike " Hanomer" together dy'd.

Their Leaders brave alike, alike enrag'd,

The " Briton" s, and the " Saxon" close engag'd

An obstinate, and bloody Fight maintain,

And Heaps of Dead, ly thick upon the Plain.

Dark Clouds of Dust thro' th' airy Region fly,

And warlike Noise bounds from the vaulted Sky.

Helms mix with Helms, and Arms with Arms unite

Their bright Reflexion, to oppress the Sight.

Now Man at Man, Squadrons at Squadrons rush,

And Files at Files with Spears protended push.

Swords clash with Swords, Bucklers on Bucklers bray,

And thro' the Field a horrid Din convey.

Slaughter and Death in dreadful Pomp appear,

And Brains, and Gore, the slippery Field besmear:

So when two adverse Tides their Waves advance,

With equal Fury, and with equal Chance;

The foaming Forces, doubtful Fight maintain,

Where both by Turns loose, what by Turns they gain.

On this Side now retreats the vanquish'd Tide,

And on its back th' insulting Billows ride.

Rallying its roaring Troops with swift Career,

It soon returns, and reassumes the War.

The Conquerour before is forc'd to yield,

And rolling back its Waves deserts the Field.

Alternate Conquest, and alternate Flight,

Between the Foes prolong a doubtful Fight.

So thick the Troops, so fast and close were prest,

The wedg'd Battalions standing Breast to Breast,

They scarce have space their Hands or Arms to move,

But like contending Waves each other shove.

Here " Macor" urges, presses, and invades,

Here " Lothar" stops him with his strong Brigades.

Equal in Arms, in Beauty, and in Age,

But not allow'd each other to engage.

On both the valiant Youths a different Fate,

From a far greater Foe does shortly wait.

King " Cerdick" then advanc'd exclaiming loud

And with his rapid Chariot cuts the Crowd.

And to the Troops that stopt his way, he cry'd

Open to right and left, your Ranks divide,

" Macor" and I this Contest will decide.

Nor did the " Saxon" Troops his Will oppose,

But open, and an ample Space disclose.

Then leaping to the Ground his pondrous Oak,

Pointed with polish'd Steel, he threatning shook.

At such a Sight th' amaz'd " Danmonians" start,

And their chill Blood congeal'd about their Heart.

" Macor" undaunted, traverses the Ground,

And at the " Saxon" aims a fatal Wound.

Then thro' the Air his Spear projected flew,

And from its Sheath his flaming Sword he drew.

The Buckler's Brims the glancing Weapons raz'd

And flying off, on the right Shoulder graz'd.

Then " Cerdick" 's Javelin pois'd, and aim'd with Care,

Flew from his Arm, and hissing cut the Air.

Who cry'd out as it went, go swiftly fly,

And the hard Metal of his Armour try.

While " Cerdick" thus insults th' impetuous Oak,

Thro' Buckler, Coat of Mail and Cuirass broke,

And pierc'd his Breast where the deep Springs abide,

Whence Life leaps out upon its circ'ling Tide.

The Vital Streams thro' his bruis'd Armour spout,

While he in vain wrests the warm Weapon out.

After the parting Dart, together crowd

From the wide Wound, his Soul, and Life, and Blood.

He fell, his Arms upon his Armour rung,

And Death in cold Embraces round him clung.

Thus fell the brave " Danmonian" who had slain,

Such Numbers pil'd on Heaps upon the Plain.

His Friends with Sighs, and Tears upon a Sheild,

Bear his Pale Corps off from the bloody Field.

" Cerdic" his Weapon warm with " Macor" 's Blood,

Advanc'd with Fury not to be withstood.

With his drawn Sword he does the Foe invade,

And midst their Ranks prodigious Havock made.

The " Briton" s all enrage'd at " Macor" 's Fall,

With Showers of Darts the raging " Saxon" gaul.

On every Side the Monarch they assail,

With thick Brigades, but cannot yet prevail.

As when a mighty Stag, that long had stood,

The unmolested Monarch of the Wood,

Safe in its Coverts, and protecting Shade,

Against the Foe, that would his Peace invade:

If at an ancient Oak, he stands at last

At Bay, by furious Dogs too closely chas'd;

Fearless he looks and to his clam'rous Foes,

Does his thick Grove of Native Arms oppose.

The Dogs with distant Cries infest his Ears,

And from afar the Huntsmen cast their Spears.

None daring to approach the generous Beast,

Project aloof their Darts against his Breast,

Thus " Cerdick" stood, nor dar'd the boldest Knight,

Advance to undertake a closer Fight.

They cast their Darts at distance, and from far

Shower on his brazen Shield a ratling War.

With their loud Cries the ambient Air they rend,

And raging, all their missive Weapons, spend.

Mean time around, King " Cerdick" 's Jav'lins flew,

And " Arthur" s Men, with vast Destruction slew.

" Cadwan" he kill'd, whose Arms great Fame had won,

And " Vortiger" great " Ganumara" 's Son.

Then " Vogan" fell and " Ottocar" who trace

Their high Descent from " Hoel" 's ancient Race.

Great Numbers dy'd where the chaf'd " Saxon" flew,

And with his Sword cut his wide Passage thro'

So when a generous Bull for Clowns Delight,

Stands with his Line restrain'd prepar'd for Fight.

Hearing the Youths loud Clamours, and the Rage,

Of barking Mastives eager to engage.

He snuffs the Air, and paws the trembling Ground,

Views all the Ring, and proudly walks it round.

Defiance lowring on his brinded Brows,

Around disdainful Looks, the grisly Warriour throws.

His haughty Head inclin'd with easie Scorn,

Th' invading Foe high in the Air is born,

Tost from the Combatant's victorious Horn.

Rais'd to the Clouds, the sprawling Mastives fly,

And add new Monsters to th' affrighted Sky.

The clam'rous Youth, to aid each other call,

On their broad Backs to break their Fav'rites fall.

Some stretcht out on the Field lie dead and some

Dragging their Entrails on, run howling Home.

But if at last on all Sides he's engag'd,

By fresh and fiercer Foes, strait all enrag'd

He flies about, some with his Horns He gores,

Some strikes, and mov'd with Indignation roars.

With Disproportion'd Numbers prest at length,

He breaks his Chain collecting all his Strength.

Then Dogs and Masters scar'd promiscuous fly,

And fal'n in Heaps, the pale Spectators ly.

He walks in Triumph, nods his conquering Head,

And proudly views the Spoils about him spread.

" Hyalca" fell, a Lord of " Neustrian" Birth,

Struggling with Death, he bites the hostile Earth.

" Rivollan" dies, the brave " Armorican" ,

Who swifter than a driving Tempest ran.

" Mador" , not daring " Cerdick" to engage

Fled from his Post to scape the Conquerors Rage.

" Cerdick" pursu'd him close, exclaiming loud,

And to o'ertake him, breaks th' opposing Crowd.

As when a Lyon on the Mountains spies,

A well grown Stag, his furious Bristles rise,

And yawning horribly, with Hunger prest,

Away he flies to tear the trembling Beast.

He leaps upon him with his dreadful Paws,

And buries in his Sides his fearful Jaws.

So raging " Cerdick" flew faln " Mador" dies,

And everlasting Night shuts up his Eyes.

" Ludvalla" , from the high " Silurian" Hills

" Eldubert" flew, " Poel Edella" kills,

" Chelrick Adarc" , " Tudor" pierc'd " Alwy" thro',

" Oswoll Pricarden" , " Oven Kensey" flew.

" Bladoc" kills " Athelmar" in single Fight

Of goodly Stature, and a Valiant Knight.

" Edwin" gave " Vortimer" his faral Wound,

Who from his Steed, fell headlong to the Ground,

" Lovellines" Blood the great " Barnulfa" spills

" Kentwin Rodollan" , Pricel " Uffa" kills.

Now equal Ruin rag'd on either Side,

And Vict'ry mutual Favours did divide,

Flowing, and Ebbing with an equal Tide.

With like Success, by turns the doubtful Field

The Victors and the vanquish'd, win and yield.

Such was the bloody Labour of the Day,

And in such even Scales their Fortune lay.

Now certain Fame had reach'd Prince " Arthur" 's Ear,

That his lov'd " Macor" dy'd by " Cerdick" 's Spear.

No Tydings more his Fury could provoke,

Or strike into his Breast a deeper Stroke.

His Looks reveal'd his Wound, and Grief, and Rage,

His conquering Arms in deep Revenge engage.

With his refulgent Sword he hew'd his way,

Like grass mown down the slaughter'd " Saxons" lay.

His Stroaks are all as sure, as those of Fate,

And Death and Vict'ry on his Progress wait.

His Arms the Field with vast Destruction clear.

Wide Lanes made by his Sword and spacious Voids appear.

Thro' their thick Ranks the raging Tempest flies,

And fearful Ruin all around him lies.

In vain his fatal Javelin never flew,

" Ebissa" , " Edgar" , " Ethelburg" he flew.

And " Ethelwoll" who fled the Conquerors Sight,

But the swift Dart o'ertook him in his Flight.

His deadly Spear at " Kenfred" was design'd,

Who stooping down the hissing Death declin'd.

Then at the Conq'rour's Feet he prostrate falls,

And in sad Accents for Compassion calls.

Spare, God-like " Briton" , and let " Kenfred" live,

Me to my Father and my Children give.

Treasures immense of Silver and of Gold,

My Iron Chests, and buried Coffers hold.

These Riches from the Sun, so long conceal'd

Shall to discharge my Ransome be reveal'd.

Mine's but a single Life, if that be spar'd,

It cant the Progress of your Arms retard,

On this does not depend your Empire's Fate,

Nor can my Life or Death affect your State,

He said to whom the " British" Prince reply'd,

The Silver and the Gold your Cellars hide,

You to your Sons and Daughters must bequeath,

Expect your self, the present Stroke of Death.

That said, he took his Helmet by the Crest,

And drawing back his Head, into his Breast

Up to the Hilts, he plung'd his fatal Sword,

And from the Wound a crimson River pour'd.

" Colmar" hard by " Odin" 's and " Frea" 's Priest,

Distinguish'd by his Dress, from all the rest,

And by the Garland round his Temples known,

In glitt'ring Arms, and splendid Garments shone.

Up flew his Heels while from the Field he fled,

" Nazaleod" set his Foot, upon his Head,

And stroke into the Ground quite thro' his Breast

His pointed Spear, and his rich Spoils possest.

Then " Arthur" with his Spear, pierc'd Rufa thro',

Then " Osmor" , " Seward Ethellar" he flew

" Osa Beorno" , " Kendred" , " Ediswall" ,

" Penda" , " Kenelmar" , " Osbert" , " Ethelbal".

Pale " Oswald" fled, the Conq'rour to prevent,

But thro' his Back the swifter Javelin went.

His flaming Sword, did ne'er in vain descend

But sure Destruction did its Sway attend.

The reeking Conquerour in Triumph reign'd,

Glutted with Slaughter, and with Blood distain'd.

Th'unnumber'd Dead, that round the " Briton" lay

More than their living Troops, obstruct his way.

To reach their Men, that from his Fury fled,

He climbs their slaughter'd Piles, and scales the Dead.

Sometimes the " Saxons" with new Fury burn,

And rallying Squadrons to the War return:

They pour around the Prince their numerous Swarms,

And strive to crush him with unequal Arms.

As when Tempestuous Storms o'erspread the Skies,

In whose dark Bowels in born Thunder lies.

The watry Vapours numberless conspire

To smother, and oppress th' imprison'd Fire.

Which thus collected gathers greater Force,

Breaks out in Flames, and with impetuous Course

From the Cloud's gaping Womb in Light'ning flies,

Flashing in ruddy Streaks, along the Skies.

So " Arthur" 's flaming Sword cuts thro' the Cloud,

Around him spread, and rends th' opposing Crowd.

With daz'ling Arms, he flies upon the Foe,

Flashes amidst the throngs, and terribly Thunders thro'.

" Authum" and " Alfrid" , with fresh Troops sustain,

Their stagg'ring Squadrons, and the War maintain,

To these Prince " Arthur" wing'd with Fury flew

And first stout " Alfrid" with his Spear he flew.

Thro the left Groin, the Weapon made its Way,

And stretcht along the Ground, the bleeding " Saxon" lay.

At " Authum" 's Crest he dealt a furious Stroke,

The " Saxon" totter'd at th' amazing Shock,

And fell upon his Knee, and while he pray'd

And for his Life would many Things have said,

His sever'd Head off, from his Shoulders flies,

And bounded on the Field, his Body lies

At a great Distance, quivering on the Ground,

And Streams of Blood spring from his ghastly Wound.

As when the Summers Soultry Heats, draw forth,

Th'exhaling Moisture from the thirsty Earth,

When scorching Rays the gaping Plains have fry'd,

And from their Banks contracted Streams subside.

If then a Fire invades a spaeious Wood,

Where Ancient Oaks have long securely stood;

The conquering Flames advance with lawless Power,

And with contagious Heat the Trees devour.

The spreading Burning lays the Forrest waste,

And sooty Spoils lie smoaking where it past.

So " Arthur" with resistless Rage around,

Destroys and loads with slaughter'd Heaps the Ground.

Next did the Prince at bold " Edburga" aim,

Who from the fertile Banks of " Abum" came

Prince " Unna" 's Son to vast Possessions born,

Broad Flowers of Gold his shining Coat adorn,

The piercing Steel deep in his Bosom sunk,

And Life's pure Stream at the warm Fountain drunk,

His Arms did next valiant " Titullan" meet,

Who fell and quiver'd at the Conquerour's Feet.

" Osrick" and beauteous " Hengist" next appear,

The first his Fauchion slew, the last his Spear.

Next stout " Eldanor" did his Fate provoke,

And off his Head flew, at a single Stroke.

And next he threw at " Labert" , as he fled

The Weapon struck him, as he turn'd his Head.

In Gore and Brains the glitt'ring Javelin reeks,

And from his Veins a Purple Torrent breaks.

Mean time King " Cerdic" did around destroy,

And with thick Deaths his massy Fauchion cloy.

Him from afar the " British" Hero spies,

And wing'd with Fury to assault him flies,

" Cerdic" mean time undaunted did appear,

And forward step't, shaking his dreadful Spear.

Like one of " Anak" 's mighty Sons he stalk'd,

Or some tall Oak, that after " Orpheus" walk'd.

Fixt like a vast " Colossus" by his Weight,

He stood, expecting his approaching Fate.

Lowring, like rising Tempests from a far,

He rages, and invites th' advancing War.

Now the " Britannic" Hero did appear,

Within the Reach of his prodigious Spear.

King " Cerdic" curst, and by his " God" s defy'd

The " Briton" , and aloud to " Odin" cry'd;

The glitt'ring Arms, by this gay Robber worn,

Great " Odin" soon thy Temple shall adorn.

Assist great Founder of our State the Dart

I cast, and guide it to his impious Heart.

Then from his vig'rous Arm his massy Spear

Projected sung, and hiss'd along the Air.

Off from the temper'd Shield the Weapon flew,

Wounded " Glendoran" , and " Alantor" flew.

Then his long Spear the pious " Briton" cast,

Th' impetuous Steel thro' all the Thickness past

Of Brazen Plates, rowl'd Linnen, tough Bulls Hide,

And entring deep, did in his Groin abide.

The fainting " Saxon" fell upon his Knees,

Pain'd with his ghastly Wound, and trembling sees

The Conquering Prince advancing to asswage,

By striking off his Head, his veng'ful Rage.

Here the brave " Lothar" that had Wonders done,

And by his Arms Immortal Praises won,

For thro' the Host, the loud Applauses rung

Of mighty Deeds atchiev'd by one so young.

Transported with his pious Care, to bring

Assistance to his Uncle, and his King;

Spur'd his hot Courser on, and forwards prest

Off'ring to " Arthur" 's Arms, his valiant Breast.

He bravely undertook th' unequal Foe,

To ward from " Cerdic" 's Head, the fatal Blow.

Then his long Spear he threw, with Manly Force,

But " Arthur" 's Buckler stop'd th' impetuous Course.

Th' applauding " Saxons" gave a Shout to see

The Noble Youth's excessive Bravery.

But to his Prince's Aid in vain he flies,

Who by his former Wound expiring lies,

And everlasting Sleep shuts up his Eyes.

But then the " British" Hero's Javelin fled

At " Lothar" , but it pierc'd his Courser's Head.

Rais'd in the Air upright, the gen'rous Beast,

Gather'd his shiv'ring Feet up to his Breast,

Then springing strook them out, and stagg'ring round

Fell head-long with his Rider to the Ground.

A mighty Groan the dying Courser fetcht,

And on the Ground a breathless Carcass stretcht.

And here Immortal " Elda" shall my Verse

Thy unexampled Deed of Love reherse.

Love which will universal Wonder raise,

And scarcely find Belief in future Days.

For whilst the " British" Hero step'd with Speed,

To take off, with his Fauchion, " Lothar" 's Head,

Who with his Steed opprest, and wounded lies,

Fair " Elda" rush'd between, and thus she cries,

Before your fatal Sword takes " Lothar" 's Head,

Victorious Prince, hear his unhappy Wife.

Faln on her Knees she did her Helm unlace,

And shew'd the charming Beauties of her Face.

The blooming Looks of Spring, and lovely Red

Of opening Roses on her Cheeks were spread.

Her Eyes, that sparkled like the Stars above,

Appear'd both th' Armory, and Throne of Love.

Where thousands of alluring Graces wait,

And mingling Charms form Love's triumphal State.

Bright " Ethelina" her, and all excell'd,

She the next Place in Beauty's Empire held.

Nor did her Looks, less Admiration move,

While wild Confusion, Sorrow, Fear and Love,

With Beauteous Conflict, for the Vict'ry strove.

A Shower of Tears flow'd down her lovely Face,

Which from her Grief, receiv'd yet sweeter Grace.

At the great Conq'rour's feet she threw her Charms,

And lifting up to Heav'n, her snowy Arms

Aloud she spoke, a wretched Woman's Prayer

Great " Briton" here, and my dear " Lothar" spare.

Since first his Bride within his Arms I lay,

Scarce two full Golden Months are stoln away,

Which in Love's Calendar scarce make a Day.

With Prayers, and Tears, and tender Words I strove,

And all th' ingaging Arts of mournful Love;

To keep him from the Dangers of the Field,

And when th' obdurate Man refus'd to yield,

About him my despairing Arms I flung,

And on his Neck, o'erwhelm'd with Grief I hung.

I then conjur'd him, to avoid with Care

Your fatal Arms, so much renown'd in War.

Away he goes, and as he said, adieu,

He touch'd my Life, and my stretcht Heart-strings drew.

For still I fear'd that the heroic Fire

And thirst of Fame, that did his Soul inspire,

Would make him think no Dangers were too great,

Till rushing on your Arms, he urg'd his Fate.

My conscious Fears, this sad Event presag'd

If e'er with you, in Combat he engag'd.

Therefore in Arms I did my Limbs disguise,

And undertook this dangerous Enterprize,

That if he rashly sought, so great a Foe,

I might between him, and your fatal Blow,

My Bosom interpose, and in my Heart

To save his dearer Life, receive the Dart.

Or if Occasion were, to intercede,

As now I do, and for his Safety plead.

I pray by all that is to Mortals dear,

By all the Gods that you, and we revere.

Let this sad Object your Compassion move,

Regard his Valour, and regard my Love.

Oh! Let his hapless Fate your Soul incline,

Pity his blooming Youth, or pity mine.

Oh, melt beneath divine Compassion's Charms,

Let not your Breast be harder then your Arms.

Save his dear Life, he of his Noble Line

The only Branch remains, as I, of mine.

" Christian" s profess Compassion, Mercy, Love,

Sure such Distress should those kind Passions move.

Sheath in my Breast the Sword, and take my Breath,

But Oh, preserve this wondrous Youth from Death.

My self will to my Veins the Sword apply,

And to prolong his Life will gladly dy.

Hear pious Prince, his aged Father hear

Who thus entreats, or would if he were here.

Oh, spare the spring of all my Hopes and Fears,

The only Prop of my declining Years.

Your fatal Sword deep in my Bowels sheath

And for the Son's accepts the Father's Death.

If great Possessions, or if Gold would buy,

His far more precious Life, he shall not dy,

His Father will a mighty Ransome give,

And mine as much, say but the Youth shall live.

Let us your Prisoners be in Chains confin'd,

The Chains of Love will make those softer bind.

There his dear presence I may still enjoy,

And for his Ease my thoughtful Cares employ.

Free from the Noise of War, and anxious Fears,

I'll kiss his Wounds, and wash them with my Tears.

I'll watch his midnight Slumbers, and by Day,

My Love shall Solace to his Grief convey.

Let him be banish'd from the " British" Isle,

I'll go, and share the lovely Wand'rer's Toil.

I'll follow thro' the swarthy burning, Zone,

No Flames can scorch me, fiercer than my own.

Our tender Words the savage kind will move,

They'll stand, and gaze, and wonder at our Love.

Th' inhospitable Desart will appear,

A flowry Paradise, when he is there.

O'er Snows with him and Hills of Ice I'll stray,

I know not how, but Love will find the way.

If his sharp Keel shall cut the Foaming Tide,

In the same Bark I'll on the Billows ride.

No stormy Winds my stable Soul shall move,

Or shake the strong Foundations of my Love.

But hurried with distracting Fears away,

And wild with Grief I know not where to stay,

And in a Maze of Thought I lose my Way.

Oh! let your generous Pity calm the strife

In my tost Soul, and save his precious Life.

Thus you'll not only Triumph o'er your Foe,

But o'er your self, and your own Vict'ry too.

Thus " Elda" pray'd, nor did she pray in vain,

Her tender Accents did Admission gain

To the relenting, generous Prince's Breast,

Who thus the beauteous Supplicant addrest.

This unexampled Effort of your Love,

Does equal Wonder and Compassion move.

True Christian Captains are both brave and good,

Vict'ry pursue, but not with Thirst of Blood.

Revenge and Cruelty we disavow,

And only just and generous Arms allow.

Go, to your Tears your " Lothar" 's Life I give,

Pleas'd with each others Love together live.

Then " Cerdick" slain on whom they trusted most,

A shivering Fear ran thro' the " Saxon" Host.

The " Briton" s now believ'd the Battle won,

And sure of Conquest on their Squadrons run.

Prince " Arthur" at their Head breaks thro' their Files

And covers all the Plain with Hostile Spoils.

The " Saxon" Troops dismay'd, began to yeild

And to the raging Conquerour leave the Field.

Mean time the Prince of Hell who anxious stood,

And from his Hill the bloody Labour view'd.

Seeing the " Saxon" Troops at last give way,

Resolves the " Briton" s Progress to delay.

That thro' the " Angelick" Guards he might escape,

His Form he chang'd to a fair Seraph's Shape.

A mild " Celestial" Youth, he did apear,

Drest in pure Robes of white Empyreal Air.

What once he was, the Fiend seem'd charming bright,

Conceal'd in Beauty, and disguis'd in Light.

Assuming meek and Heav'nly Looks he strove,

To imitate the loveliest Face above.

Then taking from the Mountain's Top his Flight,

Did straightway at th' " Angelick" Camp alight.

And thus transform'd thro' the bright Camp he went,

As an Express from Heav'n to " Michael" sent.

Along he march'd, and slily looking round,

While unobserv'd, a fair Occasion found

Of passing thro' their Lines, without Delay,

Swift as a Ray of Light, he shot away.

He mingles with the fighting Armies, where

He moulds to various Shapes, the thickn'd Air.

In " Sebert" 's warlike Form he did appear,

With " Arthur" 's gasping Head upon his Spear.

Which newly sever'd from his Body seems,

So fresh the Wound, so red the bloody Streams.

" Briton" s he cry'd, learn hence your wretched State,

See your Destruction in your Leader's Fate.

The towring Hopes, you vainly once conceiv'd

Are sunk, nor can your Ruin be retriev'd.

Whose Arms can guard your State now " Arthur" 's dead?

His Life, and with it, all your Strength is fled.

Fly " Briton" s hence, and to your Hills repair,

Fly to your Woods, and in your Caves despair.

Protected in your Fastnesses remain,

Stay not t'encrease the Number of the Slain.

Cold to their Hearts this Sight and Language went,

And thro their Veins a shivering Horrour sent.

Confusion and Despair their Souls opprest,

And their sad Looks their inward Wound confest.

Urg'd with their Fear, their Troops began to fly,

And leave behind th' unfinish'd Victory.

Prince " Arthur" 's Breast with Indignation burn'd,

Who from the fierce Pursuit, reluctant turn'd,

To stop his Army's Flight, stay, " Briton" s, stay,

He cry'd, and blemish not this glorious Day.

Whence this Distraction, whence th' ungrounded Fear

And wild Despair, that in your Looks appear.

The Battel's won, the " Saxons" quit the Field,

And to your Arms a perfect Conquest yield.

Let not the vanquish'd Foe escape Pursuit,

The Vict'ry's yours, stay but to reap the Fruit.

While thus he spoke, the " Briton" s stood amaz'd,

And on their Prince with Joy and Wonder gaz'd.

Their Grief dispell'd, their dying Hopes revive,

And joyful Shouts proclaim the Prince alive.

Mean time the Sun declines, and dusky Night

Covers the " Saxons" , and protects their Flight.

Book Ix

Now did the beauteous Morn begin to rise,

Streaking with Rosy Light the smiling Skies.

Prince " Arthur" rose, and solemn Thanks addrest

To Heav'n, that had his Arms with Conquest blest.

Then rode amidst his Troops, and one by one,

Their Bravery prais'd, and Conduct lately shown.

Dispensing great Rewards thro' all the Host,

To those whose Courage was distinguish'd most.

The " Briton" s in their turn express their Zeal,

And to the Prince the highest Love reveal.

The Heav'n's around with Acclamations rung,

And loud Applauses of the shouting Throng.

Then to the sacred Temples they repair,

In joyful Crowds to offer Praise and Prayer.

In low Prostration, they the Soveraign Lord

Of Hosts Exalt, and future Aid implor'd.

Soon as their Hymns of Heav'nly Praise were sung,

High in the Temples they their Trophies hung.

Bruis'd Armour, broken Shields, and Standards torn

From the fierce Foe, the gilded Roofs adorn.

This Honour to th' Almighty Saviour done,

Prince " Arthur" to his " Briton" s thus begun.

Thus far Success and Triumph on us wait,

And to our Arms, presage a prosperous Fate.

Propitious Heav'n is to your Part inclin'd,

And still more glorious Vict'ries Crowd behind.

The vanquish'd Foe can't long maintain the Field,

But must your ravish'd Lands and Cities yield.

Chase anxious Thoughts far from your Valiant Breast,

And on your Cause, and Heav'n's Protection rest.

A perfect Conquest shall your Labours Crown,

And your Victorious Arms, regain your own.

Fear not the Relicks of a Conquer'd Foe,

Their tott'ring State, falls with another Blow.

Now let no Funeral Honours be deny'd,

To these brave Men, that for their Country dy'd.

Let us with Sighs and Tears lament their Fate,

Who fell, while striving to support our State.

Ages to come shall their great Virtue praise,

Viewing the Tombs that on their Graves you raise.

And first the Prince to the Pavilion went,

Whither brave " Macor" 's breathless Corps was sent.

He lay extended on a Purple Bed,

With high rais'd Pillows, plac'd beneath his Head.

His Servants standing round their Grief exprest,

With old " Pendarvan" sad above the rest.

" Cador" to him as to his faithful Friend,

For wise Instructions, did his Son commend,

His Counsels form'd his Youth, and did prepare

His Mind for all concerns of Peace, and War.

Now in his Face the deepest Grief appears,

He beats his Breast, and baths it with his Tears.

He wrings his Hands, and in his mournful Rage,

Tears off the hoary Honours of his Age.

Immoderate Grief in lamentable Sounds,

As " Arthur" enter'd, thro' the Room rebounds.

The pious Prince with heavy Sorrow prest,

Burst out in Tears, and thus his Grief exprest.

Inexorable Death, at every Heart

Without distinction, shoots her fatal Dart.

Could Beauty, Courage, Virtue, Youthful Age

Move her Compassion, or divert her Rage;

Brave Youth, thou had'st escap'd, and liv'd to see

Our Triumphs, for a Vict'ry due to thee:

But all thy Charms by stronger Fate o'ercome,

Could not reverse th' Irrevocable Doom.

Oh! thy sad Sire, what swelling Grief will roll

Its stormy Tyde o'er his afflicted Soul?

Can he the News of " Macor" 's Death survive,

Or me, with whom he trusted him, forgive?

T'allay the smart may the " Danmonians" tell,

How bravely " Macor" fought, how Great he fell.

And how my own with " Cador" 's Grief contends,

He mourns the best of Sons, and I the best of Friends.

Our Hopes are gone, may the " Danmonians" Cry,

And what " Britannia" can thy Loss supply?

Then to Embalm the Prince he gave Command,

That he might send him to his Native Land.

Straight with hot Streams, they wash his Body o'er,

And purge his Skin from Dust and putrid Gore.

Then in " Arabian" Spices, fragrant Gums,

Rare Aromatick Oyls, and rich Perfumes,

They lay his Snowy Body, which they fold

In Bands of Linnen, round him often roll'd.

Then from his Troops a Thousand Youths he chose,

That might a solemn Equipage compose.

That might accompany the Funeral State,

To the unhappy Father's Palace Gate.

Small Comfort for so great a loss, yet due

To the sad Sire, and all the Prince could shew.

Forthwith the " Briton" s weave with bending Sprigs

Of Willow Trees, and tender Oaken twigs,

An easie Bier, and with soft Rushes spread,

Sweet Flowers, and fragrant Herbs, the lofty Bed.

The Roof on high fresh spreading Branches shade,

And here sublime the hapless Youth was laid.

Such on the Ground the fading Rose we see,

By some rude Blast, torn from the Parent Tree.

The " Daffodil" so leans his languid Head,

Newly mown down, upon his grassy Bed.

Tho from the Earth no more supplies they gain,

Their splendid Form in part, and lovely Hue remain.

Then a rich Garment, glorious to behold,

Pond'rous with Orient Pearl, and stiff with Gold;

A noble Present from King " Odar" 's Hand,

Receiv'd when " Arthur" left the " Neustrian" Land.

Upon the Bier his Royal Bounty threw,

The last Respect, that a sad Friend could shew.

A noble Portion of the wealthy Prey,

And Spoils gain'd from the Foe, on Cars they lay.

With Arms, and Standards, which himself had won,

The Trophies of the Wonders he had done.

Now the magnificent, and pompous Woe,

Does from the Camp, in sad Procession go.

The lab'ring Axle mourns along the Road,

And groans beneath th' uncomfortable Load.

The Horses slowly March, and mournful look,

As they their share of publick Sorrow took.

" Pendarvan" follows stooping with his years,

But more with Grief, and delug'd in his Tears.

Then " Macor" 's Chariot rolls, distain'd with Blood,

On which sublime amidst the War he rode.

His " War" -" horse Rapa" , with black Trappings spread,

And he too seem'd to weep, is after led.

His Arms and polish'd Armour others bear,

His Golden Spurs, his Helmet, Shield, and Spear,

Then in long Order the " Danmonians" mourn'd,

Their Spears turn'd backwards and their Bucklers turn'd.

Then " Arthur" stood, and with sad Accent spoke,

Thus far I mourn the Fate I can't revoke.

Back I am call'd where Arms and bloody Strife,

With more sad Objects, must renew my Grief.

Farewel brave Youth, farewel, till we above,

Meet in the peaceful Realms, of Light, and Love.

He said no more, but turn'd, and took his way,

Back to the Camp, which lofty Works survey.

Mean time ten Orators from " Octa" sent,

Arriv'd, and waited at the Prince's Tent.

Their Embassy a Truce was to obtain,

To clear the Field, and to inter the slain.

They urg'd that all Hostilities should cease,

Against the Dead, who ought to rest in Peace.

That all Heroick Conquerors ever gave,

To those, from whom they took their Lives, a Grave.

The " Saxons" Prayer seem'd just, and ten days Truce,

Prince " Arthur" granted for this pious Use.

To " Cador" 's Court the heavy Tydings came,

Born swiftly thither on the Wings of Fame.

Loud Lamentation thro' the Palace went,

And bitter Cries, give their strong Passion vent.

Officious Fame the dismal News relates,

And universal Sorrow propagates.

Pale Faces, crossing Arms, dejected Eyes,

O'erflowing Tears, and deep, despairing Sighs,

Compose a finish'd Scene of Blackest Woe,

The Tragick place does all sad Figures show.

The Men like pallid Gohsts pass silent by,

Women outrageous in their Sorrow cry

" Macor" is dead, our Hopes too with him dy.

Thro' all the Streets prodigious Numbers flow,

And pour'd out from the Gates, promiscuous go

To meet their Hero's Herse, with flaming Brands,

And Pitchy Torches lighted in their Hands.

Which in long Order shone along the way,

Disclos'd the Fields, and call'd back banish'd Day.

Soon as they spied the lofty Herse from far,

Attended with the Pomp of mournful War;

A lamentable Cry the Valley fills,

Eccho repeats it louder in the Hills.

Wild with their Grief, distracted with Despair,

They strike their throbing Breasts, tear off their Hair,

And with their piercing Screams disturb the Air.

Both Troops unite Rivals in Love and Grief,

And the sad Conquest seek with equal Strife.

As " Cador" 's Love no bounds his Sorrow knew,

Who from their Arms and Prayers distracted flew.

Close in his Arms he did the Corps embrace,

Kiss'd his cold Lips, and bath'd with Tears his Face.

A Scene so tender, such a moving Sight,

Melts all their Hearts, and does fresh Grief invite,

Touch'd with Compassion to th' afflicted King,

From their exhausted Eyes fresh Torrents spring.

When the fierce Tempest had its Fury broke,

With a deep Sigh th' unhappy Monarch spoke.

Oh, my dear Son! how mild had been my Doom,

Hadst thou escap'd, I suffer'd in thy Room.

This Sight kills worse than Death, Oh that the Dart

Had miss'd thy Breast, and pierc'd thy Father's Heart!

Oh, that to see this fatal Hour I live!

And thee, and all that's dear in Life survive!

Oh, how I wish Life's tedious Journey done,

The empty Name remains, the thing is gone!

But sure I shall not long thy Absence mourn,

I'll hast to thee, thou'lt not to me return.

My hoary Head with Sorrow to the Grave,

Makes hast, the best Repose my Troubles crave.

Thrice happy Wife remov'd from us below,

You have no share in this sad Scene of Woe.

My ill presaging Fears are now fulfill'd,

I started in my Sleep, and cry'd my Son is kill'd.

I knew too well warm Blood and youthful Age,

Eager with Fame, and fier'd with Martial Rage,

His Arms in greatest Danger would engage.

I pray'd, and oft conjur'd him to beware,

Not rashly to provoke unequal War.

He promis'd me while on his Neck I wept,

But oh, how ill has he his Promise kept?

I can't reproach the pious " Arthur" 's Name,

Nor on his Friendship sworn reflect the Blame.

If by divine, unchangeable Decree,

Untimely Fate, " Macor" , attended thee;

T'is best that thou art fal'n with such Applause,

Asserting " Albion" 's and the " Christian" Cause,

But why do my Complaints thus endless grow,

And why thus tedious my loquacious Woe?

Why from new Laurels should I thus detain

These valiant Troops, to hear my Sighs in vain?

Go, " Briton" s, to your Prince, at your Return,

Tell him I live, but only live to mourn.

I groan beneath the heaviest Load of Grief,

And spend, in Tears my sad Remains of Life.

May Heav'n his Arms with greater Triumph bless,

Great as his Vertues, let him meet Success.

Mean time must we this last kind Office pay,

And " Macor" 's Body to the Dome convey;

Where his illustrious Fathers lie interr'd

Who reign'd by Subjects lov'd, by Neighbours fear'd.

Soon as the Sun had with his early Ray

Depos'd the Shades, and re-enthron'd the Day.

The pious " Briton" s their slain Freinds inter,

And on their Graves new Honours do confer.

Some with their Spades, and with sharp Axes wound

The groaning Earth, and casting up the Ground,

They form deep Vaults, and subterranean Caves,

Then fill up with their Dead, the gaping Graves.

Some cast up hilly heaps, and Mounts of Sand,

That for their Tombs, and Monuments might stand.

And to th' admiring " Briton" s might declare,

In future Ages what their Fathers were.

Some Stones erect of a prodigious Size,

That bear the Hero's Glory to the Skies.

Mean time the " Saxons" bear away their Dead,

Whose putrid Heaps, the bloody Field o'erspread.

Innumerable Piles they raise on high,

Which kindled fill with Smoak and Flames the Sky.

With uncouth Cries, around the Fires they mourn,

Where vulgar Dead, in Heaps promiscuous Burn.

The Lords, and Officers of high Command,

They send attended with a warlike Band

Each to his City, there to be interr'd,

Where greater Funeral Pomp might be conferr'd,

But fair " Augusta" chiefly flow'd with Tears,

Where Grief in all her mournful Looks appears.

Distracted with ungovernable Woe,

Into the Streets in Crowds the Matrons flow.

Confusion in their Looks, and wild Despair,

They wring their Hands, and tear their flowing Hair

Parents on Children, Wives on Husbands call,

Sons mourn their Fathers, Maids their Lovers fall.

For their dear Brothers, Sisters, Tears are spent,

Servants their Masters, Friends their Friends lament.

All mingle Tears, their Cries together flow,

And form a hideous Harmony of Woe.

Pale Consternation sate on every Face,

They fear'd the Prince would soon invest the Place.

They oft reproach'd their Monarch's Breach of Word,

That had expos'd them to the Conquerour's Sword.

They wish'd that this destructive War might cease,

And " Ethelina" be the Bond of Peace.

" Octa" 's Affairs in this ill State appear,

Such was their publick Grief, and such their Fear.

Mean time the " Briton" joyful Sports ordain'd,

For the great Vict'ry by their Arms obtain'd.

For Horsemanship the " Briton" s always fam'd,

To run a Course his generous Gifts inflam'd.

Desire both of the Prize, and loud Applause,

The " British" Youth to mount their Coursers draws.

A neighbouring Hill ascending high, but slow,

Survey'd the Valleys, with his lofty Brow.

Upon the flowry Top a spacious Down,

Extended lay, which shady Woods did crown.

The grassy Plains, and rising Groves appear,

Like a rich furnish'd, native Theater.

Where " Sylvan" Scenes, their verdant Pomp display,

And charming Prospects to the Eye convey.

Soon as the Sun, had with his Rosy Light,

From the cold Air, dispell'd the dewy Night.

The " British" Hero with a numerous Train,

Directs his Steps, to this delightful Plain.

Where high amidst his Friends he takes his Place,

Who swarm'd around to view the noble Race.

" Briton" s, " Armoricans" , and " Neustrians" stood

Mingled below, the foremost of the Crowd

Stood " Eddelin" in all his Youthful Pride,

His Purple Boots were of " Iberian" Hide,

Which fast with Golden Buttons held, and grac'd

With Silver Spurs, his comely Legs embrac'd.

A flaming Ruban of " Sydonian" Dy,

In a close Knot, his curling Locks did ty,

Which playing on his Shoulders flew behind,

Danc'd in the Air, and sported with the Wind.

Close to his well shap'd Wast, he wore his Coat,

Of Silk and Silver, by his Mother wrought.

A Cap of Crimson did his Head equip,

And as he walk'd, he slash'd his breaded Whip.

His swarthy Groom his generous Courser leads,

That scarcely marks the Ground, so light he treads.

Swift as a Dove pursu'd, or Mountain Hind,

His nimbler Feet could overtake the Wind,

Leave flying Darts, and swifter storms behind.

Illustrious Blood, he Boasts with equal Pride,

Transmitted to his Veins on either side.

The Mother Mare was of " Eborac" Race,

The Sire " Augusta" 's Merchants, brought from " Thrace".

His inward Fire thro' his wide Nostrils flies,

And noble Ardor sparkles in his Eyes.

His well turn'd Limbs did Admiration move,

Where Strength, and Beauty for the Conquest strove.

His Matchless Speed the Prize did ever gain,

From all the Rival Coursers of the Plain.

Next " Blanadoc" upon the Plain advanc'd

And led behind, his fiery Courser pranc'd.

Lightly equip'd, and ready for the Race,

He marches to the " Base" with Manly Grace.

The gazing Crowd admire his comely Steed,

Nobly descended from the famous Breed,

That on the " Mauritanian" Mountains feed.

And fam'd for his Swiftness in the Dusty Course,

Of wondrous Beauty, and of wondrous Force.

And next to him the gay " Lanvallo" came

Eager to win the Prize, and raise his Name.

His dapled Courser to the " Base" advanc'd,

And neighing wantonly along the Champain danc'd.

His high Descent he did from " Draco" trace,

The swiftest Courser of th' " Iberian" Race.

A Race so famous for their speedy Feet,

" Eurus" himself, was not esteem'd more fleet.

So swift they run, that vulgar Fame declares,

The Western Winds, impregnated the Mares.

Next the fierce " Tudor" comes into the Field,

That did to none for Art or Courage yield.

A Velvet Bonnet on his Head, and drest,

For Lightness, in a thin embroider'd Vest.

Thirsty of Honour to the " Base" he flies,

And with his greedy Wishes grasps the Prize.

His well-train'd Courser was admir'd for Speed,

Sprung from " Calabrian" , mixt with " British" Breed.

Light'ning flew from his Eyes, and Clouds of Smoak,

Dark'ning the Air, from his large Nostrils broke.

None of the Rival Steeds arriv'd before,

More Wonder rais'd, or promis'd Conquest more.

Next " Trebor" came upon a noble Horse,

And oft victorious in the rapid Course.

He gently strok'd his Mane, and bid him shew

On this great Day, the Feet he us'd to do.

With many more, whose long forgotten Name,

Was ne'er enroll'd in the Records of Fame.

While round the " Base" the wanton Coursers play,

Th' ambitious Riders in just Scales they weigh.

And those that by their Rules were found too light,

Quilt Lead into their Belts, to give them weight.

All things adjusted, and the Laws agree'd,

Each eager Rival mounts his generous Steed.

To whom th' indulgent Prince himself addrest,

And to inflame their Zeal these Words exprest.

Let no brave Youth despair of his Reward,

Due Gifts, and Honours are for all prepar'd.

Whoe'er are Rivals of the rapid Race,

Two costly Spears shall win, their plated Base

Glitters in Silver Sockets, finely wrought

By rare Engravers, from " Germania" brought.

Their Points are gilt, illustrious to behold,

Whence a deep Fring depends of Silk and Gold.

Besides a Back-sword whose well temper'd Blade,

Is of the fam'd " Iberian" Metal made.

The happy Youth that smear'd with Sweat, and Dust,

Shall reach the Goal, midst loud Applauses first,

This Golden Goblet his Reward shall boast,

By " Damon" wrought, with Figures high embost.

The second Conq'ror shall in Triumph wear,

In a rich Belt, this " Persian" Scimiter.

The Haft's a costly Stone, which Nature stains

With various Figures, and with bloody Veins.

The chiefest Workmen of the curious East

Have in the inlaid Blade, their Art exprest.

The third shall win a noble polish'd Shield,

Three Coursers rarely pourtray'd on the Field.

The Signal giv'n by the shrill Trumpet's Sound,

The Coursers start, and scowr along the Ground.

So " Boreas" starting from his Northern Goal,

Sweeps o'er the Mountains to the adverse Pole.

His furious Wings the flying Clouds remove,

From the Blue Plains, and spacious Wilds above.

Insulting o'er the Seas he loudly roars,

And shoves the tumbling Billows to the Shores.

While for the Palm the straining Steeds contend,

Beneath their Hoofs the Grass does scarcely bend.

So long and smooth their Strokes, so swift they pass,

That the Spectators of the noble Race,

Can scarce distinguish by their doubtful Eye,

If on the Ground they run, or in the Air they fly.

So when the Earth smiles with a Summers Ray,

And wanton swallows o'er the Valleys play.

In Sport each other they so swiftly chase,

Sweeping with easie Wings, the Meadow's Face,

They seem'd upon the Ground to fly a Race.

O'er Hills and Dales, the speedy Coursers fly,

And with thick Clouds of Dust obscure the Sky.

With clashing Whips, the furious Riders tear

Their Coursers sides, and wound th' afflicted Air.

Never " Epirean" , or " Arabian" Steed,

Flew o'er the " Olympic" Plains, with greater speed.

On their thick Manes the stooping Riders ly,

Press forwards, and would fain their steeds outfly.

By Turns they are behind, by Turns before,

Their Flanks and Sides, all bath'd in Sweat, and Gore.

Such speed the Steeds, such Zeal the Riders shew,

To reach bright Fame, that swift before them flew.

Upon the last with spurning Heels the first

Cast Storms of Sand, and smothering Clouds of Dust.

The hindmost strain their Nerves, and snore, and blow,

And their white Foam upon the Foremost throw.

Eager of Fame, and of the promis'd Prize,

The Riders seize the Mark with greedy Eyes.

Now Hopes dilate, now Fears contract their Breast,

Alternately with Joy, and Grief possest.

Thus far with equal Fate the Riders pass

Uncertain who should conquer in the Race.

But now the Goal appearing does excite

New warmth, and calls out all their youthful Might.

They lash their Courser's Flanks with Crimson dy'd,

And stick their goring Spurs into their side.

Their Native Courage, and the Riders stroke,

T' exert their Force, the generous Kind provoke.

Each springs out to the Goal with loosen'd Reins,

Works all his Nerves, and staring Eye-balls strains.

In this fierce Strife, " Tudor" 's the best for wind,

Shot forth, and left the panting Steeds behind.

" Eddelin" the other Rivals overpast,

" Trebor" came next, " Lanvallo" was the last.

" Draco" , his Steed, had once unrival'd Fame,

When in the Pride, and Pomp of Youth he came;

Curvetting o'er the Plain, to win the Course,

All yielded to his Swiftness, and his Force.

Siff Limbs now shew his Age, with drudging Pace

He sweats behind, and labours thro' the Race.

Now " Tudor" whips, and spurs his Courser on,

And near the Goal believ'd the Goblet won.

When running o'er a naked, chauky Place,

Slipp'ry with nightly Dew, and bare of Grass,

Up flew the Courser's Heels, and to the Ground

He, and the Rider, fell with mighty Sound.

The sudden Danger could not be declin'd

By " Eddelin" , that follow'd close behind.

For stumbling on young " Tudor" 's hapless Horse,

His Floundring fell, and lost the hopeful Course.

The mean time " Trebor" spur'd, and forwards spurng.

While all the Field with Acclamations rung.

First to the Goal his reeking Courser came,

Next " Blanadoc" , " Lanvallo" third in Fame.

The Victors by the Goal triumphant stood,

Surrounded by the thick applauding Crowd.

When " Tudor" rushing in, cries out of wrong,

And challenging the Prize, broke thro' the Throng.

The Judges over-rul'd the Youth's Demand,

Urging the first establish'd Rules should stand.

The Prince confirm'd their Sentence, and declar'd

Who first arriv'd, should have the first Reward.

But on the two, that by ill Fortune crost,

The Vict'ry almost in Possession, lost,

Rich Marks of Royal Bounty he conferr'd,

And with his Smiles, their drooping Spirits cheer'd.

A famous Quiver wrought by " Didon" 's Hand,

With " Thracian" Arrows stor'd, at his Commad

Was first on " Tudor" , as a Gift confer'd;

And cross his Shoulders hung the bright Reward.

" Eddelin" that never hop'd so mild a Doom,

Receives a silver Helm, and milk white Plume.

This Kindness to th' unfortunate exprest,

He gives the promis'd Prizes to the rest.

" Arthur" rose up, and all their Footsteps bend

Back to their Camp, which lofty Works defend.

And now the " Briton" s all their Hands employ,

To fetch Materials in, for Fires of Joy.

All to the Mountains, and the Woods repair,

And with their Labour fill the ecchoing Air.

They raise their Axes, and with toilsome Strokes,

Fell the tall Elms, and lop the spreading Oaks.

They bear the nodding Trees to every Town,

And from the Mountains, draw the Forrests down.

In every City with the shady Spoils,

The joyful Youth erected lofty Piles.

Nearer the Skies they raise th' aspiring Wood,

Than when before, upon the Hills it stood.

Soon as the Sun his Beamy Light withdrew,

And the brown Air grew moist with Ev'ning Dew:

The shouting " Briton" s, set the Piles on fire,

And tow'ring Flames to Heav'n's high Roof aspire.

Up the steep Air the ruddy Columns play,

And to the Stars their Rival Light convey.

Around the burning Piles the Crowds rejoyce,

And mingle Shouts, with the shrill Trumpet's Voice.

Heav'n's starry Arch with Acclamations ring,

While the glad Throng, " Arthur" 's loud Praises sings.

Let " Arthur" live, the Towns and Fields resound,

Let " Arthur" live, the ecchoing Hills rebound

The Evening thus in Mirth and Triumph past,

The " Briton" s to their Rest retir'd at last.

Mean time four Lords arriv'd from " Tollo" , crave

Audience of " Octa" , which the " Saxon" gave.

To hear their Embassy, in regal State

High on his Throne, the " Saxon" Monarch fate.

" Duncan" the cheif broke Silence thus, we bring

This Message from the great " Albanian" King;

He is advanc'd, to give that powerful Aid,

Which by his Orator's King " Octa" pray'd.

A valiant Host obeying his Command,

Whose conquering Swords, no force could yet withstand,

Who laid the " Caledonian" Forrest wast.

And from their Forts the fierce " Meatian" chas'd;

Halts on a Plain, three Leagues remov'd from hence,

Ready t' engage their Arms in your Defence.

But then our Leader prays, that when you come,

The " Briton" s all subdu'd, in Triumph home,

Fair " Ethelina" may be then his own,

The bright Reward that shall his Labours crown.

If to these happy Nuptialls you incline,

He'll straight with yours, his valiant Forces joyn.

Let not the " Saxons" doubt great " Tollo" 's Arms,

Will free your Kingdom from the Foes Alarms.

He said, forthwith " Octa" in counsel sate,

A Matter so important to debate.

When " Osred" thus began,

Great Exigencies of our State perswade,

That we comply with this Proposal made;

We are compell'd by hard Affairs, to court

Th' " Albanian" Arms, our Kingdom to support.

You know too well, how much the " Saxons" Host,

Is weaken'd by the Numbers we have lost,

When matchless " Arthur" did our Troops invade,

What Havock his victorious Progress made.

What wide Destruction in our Army rag'd,

Where'er his fatal Weapons were engag'd.

Our frighted Troops, when he advances, fly

Swift as the Clouds, the Winds chace thro' the Sky.

But valiant " Tollo" , rivals " Arthur" 's Fame,

Equal their Courage, and their Strength the same.

Against the " Briton" He'll the Field maintain,

And on his Buckler his vast Strokes sustain.

No stronger Champion travers'd yet the Field,

To him or none the " British" Prince must yield.

Kind Heav'n has sent a Man so great, and Brave,

From " Arthur" 's Arms, our threatn'd State to save.

I would not then his just Desire withstand,

But let him know, you grant him his Demand.

This Grant to such a Prince we must allow,

Was always fit, but necessary now.

He ceas'd, and next " Pascentius" silence broke,

And wisely thus th' attentive Peers bespoke.

I once advis'd that to preserve the State,

We should strict Friendship with Prince " Arthur" make.

That we " Britannia" should between us share,

And with the Princess Nuptials end the War.

The Terms propos'd the " British" Hero please,

And all things seem'd to promise lasting Peace.

But when we were inform'd the " British" Host

Had half their Force, by raging Sickness lost.

Thinking we might with Ease, the Foe defeat,

We from the Terms our selves propos'd, retreat.

I wish that Rupture May not Heav'n provoke,

To bring our Necks beneath the " British" Yoke.

With all our Force the " Briton" s we assail,

But " Arthur" 's unresisted Arms prevail.

How great a Loss the " Saxons" undergo

Our bleeding Wounds and endless Funerals show.

What Hero can be found to guard our State,

Against Prince " Arthur" 's Arms, and prosp'rous Fate.

True, " Tollo" 's Deeds give him a warlike Name,

But much inferiour to the " Briton" 's Fame.

If we confiding in th' " Albanian" 's Sword,

Fresh Triumphs to the " Briton" should afford:

Who after, shall controuling Bounds oppose,

To the victorious Progress of our Foes?

Who then against the Torrent can contend,

And from th' o'erflowing Flood, our Towns defend.

We shall in vain our former Conquests boast,

The " Saxon" sinks, and all " Britannia" 's lost.

All things well weigh'd, Prince " Arthur" looks to me

As one supported by divine Decree,

To Empire rais'd by unchang'd Destiny.

If so in vain all our Attempts are made,

In vain we build our Hopes on " Tollo" 's Aid.

We shall oppose inevitable Fate,

And in our Ruin learn our Fault, too late.

I would Prince " Arthur" 's Temper found, and strive

Once more, the former Treaty to revive.

This way we may controul the Conqueror's Arms,

And " Arthur" bind by " Ethelina" 's Charms.

This way perhaps you'll stem the rapid Tyde,

And gain a Conquest to your Arms deny'd.

" Pascentius" ceas'd, " Crida" with Choler burn'd,

And with an Air disturb'd these Words return'd:

We all well know " Pascentius" Tongue, was made

Smooth, soft, and fluent fitted to perswade.

For courtly Arts, and fine Intreagues of State,

No " Saxon" Genius can " Pascentius" mate.

All to his Eloquence at home must yield,

As he to all, for Courage in the Field.

Men of the Cabinet take no Delight,

In bloody War, they are too wise to fight.

The " Briton" 's Strength, and " Arthur" 's Arms I find,

Strike fiercely on a Prudent timerous Mind.

A brave Heroick Spirit can't despair,

That minds the Turns and doubtful chance of War.

Joyn'd by the " Pict" and " Albanian" Horse,

We're much superior to the " British" Force,

" Tollo" and " Mordred" , both for Arms are fam'd,

Whose Deeds with greater Wonder are proclaim'd?

We too have Heros left that dare engage

The " Briton" 's Arm, and can sustain his Rage.

My self will meet him in the Field, and stand

Unmov'd against the Fury of his Hand.

Shall we at last a Conquer'd Nation fear,

And long inur'd to Victory despair.

Let not our vile Submission stain our Name,

And lessen thro' the World the " Saxon" Fame.

No, let the King, with " Tollo" 's Prayer comply,

Our Forces joyn'd must make the " Briton" s fly.

He ceas'd, the Councel murmur'd their Applause,

And pleas'd with this Advice King " Octa" rose.

He straight dispatch'd th' " Albanian" Orators,

By whom the valiant " Tollo" he assures,

That he the " Briton" s by his Aid subdu'd,

Shall " Ethelina" wed for whom he sued.

Withall he added that Affairs requir'd,

Their Troops should join, before the Truce expir'd.

His Oratours return'd, to " Tollo" bring,

The pleasing Answer, of the " Saxon" King.

" Tollo" transported with excessive Joy,

Believes no Rival could his Hopes destroy.

As if the Battel were already won,

He thinks the Beauteous Princess is his own.

Glitt'ring in Arms, like a refulgent Star,

He leads his " Scotish" Nation to the War.

A Nation fierce and haughty by Success,

Which " Albion" 's Northern Soil did then posess.

For a rude, cruel People, bred to Spoil,

To Blood, and Rapine, from th' " Hibernian" Isle,

Did in this Age, infest th' " Albanian" Coast,

And landed there at last their barb'rous Host.

Scots they were call'd, from their wild Island's Name,

For " Scotia" , and " Hibernia" were the same.

Here their new Seats the prosperous Pyrates, fix,

And their course Blood, with the old " Briton" s mix.

These their " Albanian" Seats, new " Scotia" stile,

Leaving " Hibernia" , to their native isle

The Calidonian " Briton" s dispossest

And by a hard tirannick Yoke opprest;

Did these " Hibernian" , " Scotish" Lords obey,

And felt the Curses of a forraign Sway.

This Nation then obey'd King " Tollo" 's Laws,

And now in Arms asserts the " Saxon" Cause.

The mighty " Donald" , of the " Northern Isles" ,

Of Visage fierce, and dreadful with the Spoils

Of grisly Bears, and of the foaming Boar,

Which hideous Pride he o'er his Shoulders wore,

Marches his vig'rous Troops into the Field,

Whose thundring Swords, themselves could only weild.

By their rough Captains led, they left the land,

Where once the old " Meatians" did command.

And where the Walls from Sea to Sea extend,

By " Romans" built, their Province to defend.

Stupendous Bulwarks, whose unnumber'd Towers,

Repel'd th' Incursions of the " Northern" Powers.

But when proud " Rome" was weak and feeble grown,

Th' insulting Foe broke the high Fences down.

Now Ruins show where the chief Fabrick stood,

Between wide " Tinna" 's and " Itunna" 's Flood.

The Youth from all the Towns that did obey

In ancient times, the mild " Nomantian" Sway.

Such as possest th' " Elgovian" Seats, and those

Who till'd the Land, where silver " Devia" flows.

Who on the wild and bleaky Shore reside,

Insulted by the rough " Hibernian" Tide.

To aid the " Saxon" from their Country came,

By " Dongal" led, a Lord of Martial Fame.

Those where " Verdera" rears her lofty Towers,

And " Glotta" 's Tide into the Ocean pours.

And where th' " Orestian" Princes heretofore,

And " Attacottian" Lords the Scepter bore.

Those where the " Otadenian" Cities stood,

Between " Alanus" , and fair " Vedra" 's Flood.

They march from " Castralata" and the Shore,

Where wide " Boderia" 's noisy Billows roar.

Then those from " Vindolana" and the Land

Where " lians " Bridge and high " Cilurnum" stand.

" Mackbeth" a great Commander of the North,

And rocky Highlands, draws his Nation forth.

Loose Mantles o'er their brawny Shoulders flung,

With careless Pride beneath their midleg hung.

Cerulean Bonnets on their Heads they wore,

And for their Arms, broad Swords and Targets bore

The Youth pour'd out from fair " Victoria" 's Gates,

From " Orrea" and the old " Gadenian" Seats.

And from the spacious " Caledonian" Wood,

And where " Cebinus" rolls his rapid Flood.

These Troops were by the fierce " Congellar" led,

Of " Malcol" 's Royal Stock the famous Head.

Who first from wild Jerne wafted o'er,

His barb'rous Engines to th' " Albanian" Shore.

Those from the " Vicomagians" Cities came,

From high " Banatia" , and from ancient " Tame".

And they who dwelt on either verdant Bank

Of " Longo" 's Stream, and those that " Itys" drank.

With those that stretcht along the western Coast,

To whom the old " Creonian" Towns were lost,

Where high " Epidium" midst th' " Hibernian" Waves,

Protrudes his Head, and all their Monsters braves.

Those from the Towns along the flowry Side

Of Northern " Tinna" , and fair " Tava" 's Tide.

Where once the happy " Venicontes" dwelt,

Before the forraign Conquerours Yoke was felt.

There was a northern Nation fierce and bold,

On whose dy'd Bodies, fearful to behold,

Wild Beasts inscrib'd, and ravenous Birds were born,

Which their vast Limbs did dreadfully adorn.

So fierce they seem'd, as ready to devour,

The naked Limbs, that the wild Monsters bore.

Their Hieroglyphick Armies, stain'd and smear'd

With various Colours, and strange Forms appear'd

In Pageant Armour, and in painted State,

Like Troops of Heralds, who on Triumphs wait.

This Nation " Picts" were call'd, who wafted o'er

From " Scandinavia" , and the bleaky Shore

Of Southern " Scythia" , did these Seas infest,

And with their Fleets, the " British" Coast molest.

Their Pyracy's by Sea, and Thefts by Land,

Th' exhausted " Briton" s did in vain withstand.

No more of " Rome" 's declining Power afraid,

They did the weak, defenceless Isle invade.

Th' affrighted " Briton" from the Shore retreats,

And leaves the Conquerour his abandon'd Seats.

Their King at Pleasure, this fierce Nation made,

And " Mordred" now th' imperial Scepter sway'd.

He to King " Tollo" by his Queen ally'd,

And now by closer Bonds of Interest ty'd.

Commands his Men, to take their Shield and Launce,

And with the " Scotish" Army to advance.

They march'd, who then possest the Hilly Land,

Which th' ancient " Carnonatian" did command.

From " Ricine" , and the frozen " Hebudes" ,

Lav'd by the loud " Deucaledonian" Seas.

From all the Towns whence their victorious Sword,

Forc'd the " Carenian" Prince, the rightful Lord.

Where the wild " Hiperborean" Ocean raves,

And on the Rocks breaks his tempestuous Waves.

They came who then the " Mertian" Cities fill'd,

And held the Lands that once the " Logian" till'd.

They left the Soil where swift " Tuesis" flows,

Where " Grampius" stands in everlasting Snows,

Which like the fam'd " Riphean" Hills appears,

And with his Head divides the neighb'ring Spheres.

From all the Land where " Loxa" 's Current flows,

Which " Vara" 's, and " Tuesis" streams inclose.

Where once the bold " Decantians" did reside,

And from their Hills the Power of " Rome" defy'd.

These with the " Saxon" Troops their Arms unite

Who so well reinforc'd prepare for Fight;

While wounded in his Tent King " Octa" staid,

King " Tollo" , as their Leader, all obey'd.

Book X

\" Aurora" 's Beams now on the Mountains smil'd,

And adverse Clouds with Purple Edgings gild,

Boyling with Martial Rage King " Tollo" stands,

And his high Chariot, and his Steeds demands.

Steeds, whiter than the purest " Alpine" Snows,

And fleeter than the Gales that " Boreas" blows.

He triumph'd when his noble Breed appear'd,

Their Harness thick with Gold and Silver smear'd.

When he their thundring Neighings heard, and saw

Their wanton Hoofs the trembling Valley paw.

The Grooms and Charioteers about him stand,

Reining the snorting Coursers in their Hand.

Stroking their Backs, they their hot Spirits sooth'd,

And their high Manes with Combs, and Spunges smooth'd.

" Tollo" mean time, puts on his mighty Arms,

And all the Field resounds with loud Alarms.

Each Army does for Bloody Toil prepare,

And draw their Troops out, to renew the War.

The thund'ring Coursers shake the trampled Ground,

And warlike Clamours from the Hills rebound.

Across the Plain the rapid Chariots fly,

And with thick Clouds of Dust annoy the Sky.

An Iron Harvest on the Field appears,

Of Launces, burnish'd Shields, and bristling Spears.

Throng'd Heads in long embattl'd Ranks dispos'd,

The lowring Front of horrid War disclos'd.

First furious " Tollo" springs out from the Lines,

And on the Plain in radiant Armour shines:

His polish'd Helm opprest and dazled Sight,

And shone on high, like a huge Globe of Light.

The Golden Shield his mighty Arm did bear,

Hung like a blazing Meteor, in the Air.

His Coat of Mail was on his Shoulders cast,

And Golden Pieces his vast Thighs encas'd.

The Pieces round his Legs, Gold Buttons ty'd,

And his broad sword hung dreadful by his side.

Which when drawn out, like a destructive Flame

Of Light'ning, from the ample Scabbard came.

In such illustrious Arms King " Tollo" shone,

And thought no Strength superior to his own.

Then shaking in his Hand his massy Spear,

He cry'd aloud, that all his Threats might hear.

This Spear ne'er yet deceiv'd its Master's Hand,

Nor could the bravest Knight it's Force withstand.

Witness " Albodian" , and great " Locrine" slain

In single Combates, on th' " Albanian" Plain.

Witness ye " Caledonian" Princes, you,

Whom with vast spoil on " Tava" 's's Banks I slew.

Now, by this faithful spear shall " Arthur" dy,

If his just Fears perswade him not to fly.

T'" Augusta" 's Gates I'll bring his sever'd Head,

And in his spoils, fair " Ethelina" wed.

Thus " Tollo" boasts, thus did his Fury rise,

And streaks of Fire flash'd from his raging Eyes.

So when a tawny Lyon, from the side

Of some high " Lybian" Mountain, has descry'd.

A spotted Leopard, or a foaming Boar,

To rouse his Courage he begins to roar,

He shakes his hideous Sides, his Bristles rise

And fiercely round he rowls his fiery Eyes.

Again he roars, his Paws the Mountains tear,

A fearful Preface to th' ensuing War.

High in his Chariot " Tollo" then advanc'd,

And from his Arms amazing Lustre glanc'd.

A Martial Ardour sparkled in his Eyes,

And hot with Choler he the Foe defies.

So when the Spring's warm Breath, and chearing Ray

Calls from his Cave th' awaken'd " Snake" , that lay

Folded to Rest, while Winter Snows conceal'd

The Mountains Heads, and Frosts the Lakes congeal'd.

The sloughy Spoils from his sleek Back depos'd,

And the gay Pride of his new Skin disclos'd,

He views himself with Youthful Beauties crown'd,

Elated casts his haughty Eyes around,

And rolls his speckled spires along the Ground.

Fresh Colours dy his Sides, and thro' his Veins

Turgid with Life, reviving Vigour reigns.

The sprightly Beast, unfolds upon the Plain

The glossy Honours of his Summer Train.

His Crest erected high, and forky Tongue

Shot out, he hisses, bounds, and leaps along.

Such Life and Vigour valiant " Tollo" shows,

Marching with eager Haste to meet his Foes.

And now the " British" Host advanc'd in sight,

With chearful Looks, and eager of the Fight.

Prince " Arthur" in refulgent Arms appear'd,

High in the midst, the " Saxons" saw, and fear'd.

As when a Merchant richly laden spies,

A lowring storm far in th' Horizon rise,

A deadly Fear o'er all his Vitals reigns,

And his chill Blood hangs curdled in his Veins.

He furls his Sails, and fits his ship to bear

The dreadful Hurricane ascending thro' the Air.

Now both th' embattled Hosts advancing near,

King " Tollo" shakes his long, outrageous Spear.

And crying out, and threatning from afar,

In his swift Chariot flew amidst the War.

His rapid Wheels cut thro' the thickest Files

With fearful Ruine, and prodigious Spoils.

Hapless " Vodinar" first his Arm did feel,

And in his Breast receiv'd the pointed steel.

Next " Byron" on the Sand expiring lies,

" Orpes" flies to his Aid, and with him dies.

" Kentwin" , " Morosten" , " Caradoc" he flew,

And with his Javelin pierc'd stout " Mervin" thro'.

Then you brave Youths, " Risan" , and " Tudor" fell

Who did in strength, and martial skill excel.

His fatal spear transfixt bold " Arnon" 's sides,

And from his Neck, his Sword the Head divides.

As " Udas" fled, the hissing Dart he sent

Enter'd his Back, and thro' his Navel went,

He fell, and on the Dust, sad to behold,

His Bowels issuing from his Belly roll'd.

" Runo" 's right Knee his Javelin did invade,

And in the Bone the glitt'ring Weapon staid.

Strong " Runo" fell, and as he wildly star'd,

And many moving Words, in hast prepar'd

To beg his Life, th' insulting Conquerour flew,

And with his Spear pierc'd his pale Body thro'.

Groaning he lay, and fetcht long double Sighs

While in thick Mists Death swims upon his Eyes.

Next " Leoline" , King " Cadwall" 's Son he kill'd,

A beauteous Youth, and not in War unskill'd.

His Head the Fauchion to the Shoulders cleft,

And on the Dust his groveling Body left.

" Ouenar" flet within a sudden Dread,

And turning round his Chariot, would have fled.

When his long Spear the fierce " Albanian" threw,

Which crasht the Bones, and thro' the Temples flew.

Headlong " Ouenar" fell, and on the Ground

Lay welt'ring in his Blood, pour'd from his Wound.

His fatal Weapons vast Destruction made,

And where he pass'd, the slain in Heaps were laid.

So when a Flood from th' " Hyperborean" Hills,

Rolls thund'ring down, and all the Valley fills,

Where the high Snows dissolv'd by Summer Beams,

In one vast Deluge joyn their various Streams:

The roaring Tide with its impetuous Course,

O'erflows the Banks, and with resistless Force

Sweeps Houses, Harvest, Herds, and Flocks away,

Nor can the loftiest Mounds its Progress stay.

With equal Rage, with such impetuous Hast,

Great " Tollo" thro' the thick Battalions past.

The rapid Wheels of his swift Chariot burn,

And in their Course the throng'd Brigades o'erturn.

O'er scatter'd Arms, bright Helms, broad Shields of Brass,

And broken Spears, his raging Axles pass.

O'er Heaps of Dead the furious Warrior flies,

And fills with Dust, and ratling Noise, the Skies.

The squallid Field, a Crimson Torrent choaks,

And mingled Dust, and Blood oppress his Chariot's spoakes.

The trembling Ground th' outrageous Coursers tear,

And snoring, brow their Foam into the Air

Their fervid Nostrils breath out Clouds of Smoke,

And Flames of Fire from their hot Eyeballs broke.

With furious Hoofs o'er slaughter'd Heaps they fly,

And dash up Bloody Rain amidst the Sky.

Reeking in sweat, and smear'd with Dust and Gore

They spurn the Sand, and thro' the Battel roar.

Then Valiant " Malgo" with a fresh Brigade,

Advanc'd the mighty Warriour to invade.

While from another Part his Warlike Band,

" Bothan" led up, and made a noble Stand.

Now Showers of Darts, and feather'd Arrows fly

At " Tollo" 's Breast, that darken'd all the Sky.

When Valiant " Marodan" approaching near,

With all his Strength, casts his impetuous Spear.

It pass'd the Buckler's Plates, and folded Hide,

And thro' his Armour slightly raz'd his Side.

" Tollo" incens'd, collecting all his Might,

Broke thro' their Ranks, and put the Foe to Flight.

Now dire Destruction reigns amidsts their Files,

And all the Field was spread with warlike Spoils.

So when " Battavian" Harpooniers assail,

With their sharp Launces, some prodigious " Whale" ,

That like a floating Mountain, lies at Ease,

Vastly extended on the Frozen Seas.

When the " Leviathan" begins to feel,

Within his wounded side, the bearded steel;

And looking round, sees all the ambient Flood,

Deeply distain'd with its old Monarch's Blood.

Straight all enrag'd, he throws himself about,

And thro' the Air does Crimson Rivers spout.

Swift, as a storm, he does the Foe assail,

With his expanded Fins, and hideous Tail.

Some Barks are crush'd, as with a falling Rock,

And some o'erturn'd, sink with the dreadful Shock.

The rest ply all their Oars, and frighted row,

Thro' Fields of Ice, to shun th' unequal Foe.

" Canvallo" then brought up a stronger Force,

Whom " Galbut" joyn'd to stop th' " Albanian" 's Course.

The fainting " Briton" s these fresh Troops protect,

And with their Arms great " Tollo" 's Triumphs checkt.

And now their thick Brigades were close engag'd,

And thro' the bloody Field Destruction rag'd.

Now Man to Man stood close, and Spear to Spear,

Helms mixt with Helms, and Shields with Shields appear.

Arrows aloft in feather'd Tempests fly,

Darts hiss at Darts, encountring in the Sky.

A dreadful Noise distracting all the Air,

Came from the hoarce " Cerberean" Throat of War.

While Arms on Arms, Bucklers on Bucklers ring,

Swords clash with Swords, and flying Javelins sing.

Some threaten loud, while some for Quarter cry,

And some insult, while some in Torment dy.

As when a Torrent down some Mountain's Side,

To the low Valleys rolls its rapid Tide,

Where mighty Stones and rocky Fragments, high

Within the rude, unfashion'd Channels ly.

O'er abrupt Tracks its Course the Deluge bends,

And roaring down with mighty Falls, descends.

Prodigious Noise th' Aerial Region fills,

The Shepherds hear, and tremble on their Hills.

Or as

When high " Vesuvius" stow'd with wealthy Stores,

Preluding to some dire Irruption, roars;

While horrible Convulsions shake its Womb,

And lab'ring Sides, which hidden War entomb.

Th' imprison'd Thunder bellows under Ground,

And the loud Noise fill all the Heav'ns around.

August " Parthenope" 's gilt Turrets shake,

And fair " Campania" 's wealthy Farmers quake.

Such was the loud distracting Noise of War,

Such horrid Clamours tore th' afflicted Air,

While the fierce Foes against each other rag'd,

And for " Britannia" 's Empire were engag'd.

The neighing Steeds, and wounded Warriours cries,

And rising Clouds of Dust confound the Skies.

" Mordred" mean time the mighty " Pictan" King,

Does to the Charge, his threatning Squadrons bring.

Sticking his Golden Rowels in the Sides

Of his huge Steed, amidst the Ranks he rides.

The " British" Horse unshaken as a Rock,

Bravely sustain'd th' Invader's thundring Shock.

King " Meridoc" who did the Horse command

Confirm'd his Men, to make so brave a stand.

Yet many valiant " Briton" s " Mordred" slew,

First with his Spear he pierc'd brave Jasper thro.

The Valiant " Giffith" by unhappy Chance,

Came in his Way, and felt his fatal Launce.

Beneath his Ear, the Weapon pierc'd his Head,

He fell, and in a Moment stretcht out dead.

His furious Arm noble " Lodanar" felt

On whose high Crest so fierce a stroke he dealt,

The " Briton" stun'd with the prodigious Blow,

Drops the loos'd Reins, and lets his Weapons go.

The frighted Courser thro the Battel Flies,

" Lodanor" in the Dust dismounted lies.

The Horses Hoofs in pieces crush his Head,

And deep into the Mire his Bowels tread.

Then with great Fury he at " Adel" flew,

And grip'd him with his furious Hand, and drew

The " Briton" from his Seat, his fiery Steed

Scours o'er the Field, from his lost Rider freed.

Wrigling and spurning in his Arms the Prey

'Midst loud Applauses " Mordred" bears away.

So when an Eagle from some Mountain's Top,

To truss a timerous Leveret makes a stoop,

And in his crooked Pounces takes him up.

Struggling he mounts, and squeaks amidst the Skies

And faster than he ran before, he flies.

To fight the " Pict" straight " Guinan" did advance

But in his Shield broke his projected Launce.

Then at the " Briton Mordred" 's Javelin flew

It mist the Rider, but the Courser slew.

Extended on the Ground the groaning Beast,

Th' unhappy Rider with his Weight opprest.

" Mordred" dismounts, and with his glitt'ring Dart

Loudly insulting, stabs him to the Heart.

" Guinan" a Friend to " Meridoc" was dear

Who at his Death enrag'd caught up his Spear,

And shaking it from far, with mighty Rage,

Spurs thro' their Ranks King " Mordred" to engage.

The " Pictan" Monarch who elated stood,

Like some tall Oak, that overlooks the Wood,

Or some high Tower, which with its lofty Head

Surveys the Towns beneath, around it spread,

Lifts his Gigantick Spear, and cry'd aloud,

To " Meridoc" advancing thro' the Crowd,

" Briton" come on, and but a Moment stand,

A glorious Fate expect from " Mordred" 's Hand.

Let not thy Fears perswade thee hence to flie,

Heav'ns give thee Courage to come up, and die.

King " Meridoc" his Spear in Answer sent,

Which in the Shield's third Ply, its Fury spent.

Then " Mordred" threw, aloft the Weapon hist,

" Ludar" it slew, but " Meridoc" it mist.

Brave " Ludar" was a Lord of " Neustrian" Blood,

Who long in vain the fair " Marinda" woo'd.

To bless him with her Smiles, and heal his Wound,

But from the scornful Maid no Pity found:

Lost in Despair, he left his native Soil,

His Torments to beguile with Martial Toil.

Now wounded by an erring Spear, he lies

Cry'd out " Marinda" , cruel Fate! and dies.

Then did the " Briton" 's second Weapon fly

Which thro' his Armour, pierc'd King " Mordred" 's Thigh.

Which from the Flesh he strove to draw in vain,

Then flew about wreckt with Tormenting Pain.

Wildly he star'd, and turn'd his Courser's Head,

Aloud he roar'd, and from the Combat fled.

So when a Sword-Fish, urg'd with generous Rage,

Does a vast Whale, in Northern Seas engage.

The Finny Warriors, with a furious Course

To Battel rush, and meet with wondrous Force.

A Noble Fight ensues, and dreadful Strokes

Afflict the Main, and shake the neighb'ring Rocks.

As they advance, they drive high Seas before,

The Monsters bellow, and the Billows roar.

The boiling Sea, with greater Fury raves,

Then when incumbent Storms press on its Waves.

The Surges raging with intestine War,

With high, curl'd Heads, look terrible from far.

The Foam of breaking Waves, in pointed Sleet

Like driven Snow does on the Ocean beat.

At every Shock the dashing Waters fly,

And clouds of Liquid dust obscure the Sky.

At last the Whale his shining Belly goar'd,

By his fierce Enemy's invading Sword;

Wild with his Rage and Pain whole Seas does spout,

And like a floating Island, rolls about.

The wounded Monster does the Seas out roar,

And tumbles thro' the Billows to the Shore,

Leaving behind broad Tracks of Purple Gore.

Thus strove the " Pictan" and the " British" Horse,

While pious " Arthur" with resistless Force;

In radiant Arms, bright as th' autumnal Star,

Flies thro' the Foe, himself a fearful War.

With his victorious Sword, which wav'd on high,

Made flaming Bows, and Arches in the Sky.

The Body of their Battel he invades,

And thro' a Sea of Blood victorious wades.

Where'er the Conqu'ror did his progress bend,

Ruin and wide Destruction did attend.

Prodigious Numbers by his Weapons fall,

And on their Gods in vain the " Saxons" call.

He made his way, like an impetuous Flood,

Or furious Burning, raging thro' the Wood

Where'er he pass'd the Dead lay thick behind,

As sapless Leaves, spread by a boistrous Wind.

" Ussina" first a valiant Lord did feel

In his left Side, the " Briton" 's piercing steel.

Next " Godred" fell from valiant " Ingulf" sprung,

And as he fell, his Arms upon him rung.

Next fell the famous " Ethelbert" betwixt,

The Head and Shoulders with a Dart transfixt.

Nothing his Courage, or illustrious Blood,

That to his Veins from mighty " Odin" 's flow'd;

Nothing his well prov'd Armour when assail'd

By " Arthur" 's hand, the noble Youth avail'd.

Struggling he lay, and wallow'd on the Ground

In the warm Streams that rush'd out from his Wound.

A gloomy Night o'er whelms his dying Eyes,

And his disdainful Soul, from his pale Bosom flies

Then " Imerick" he slew a valiant Chief,

And " Lodocan" that rush'd to his Relief:

One with his Fauchion, th' other with his Spear,

That cleft the Head, this pierc'd from Ear to Ear.

Next from his Arm a singing Javelin sent,

Thro' the left Groin of mighty " Crida" went.

The wounded Chief retires in tort'ring Pain,

And Tracks of Blood his halting Leg distain.

Then " Sigebert" a noble Youth he slew,

The fatal Weapon pierc'd his Temples thro'.

His furious Dart did next at " Ebald" fly,

Which thro' his Shield pierc'd deep into his Thigh:

Inflam'd with Rage, and roaring out with Pain,

He strove to pull the Weapon out in vain.

His Javelin next transfixt " Congellars" 's Reins,

And out his Life gush'd from his open'd Veins.

Then " Edbert" fell

Thro' the Bright Helmet which his Head encas'd,

Thro' Bones, and Brains the furious Javelin pass'd;

And his left Eye from out its Circle struck,

On the sharp Point, a ghastly Prospect stuck.

Then " Ethelrick" a stout west " Saxon" Lord,

And " Ida" fell, by his victorious Sword.

The first his Head down to his Shoulders cleft,

Fell to the Ground, of Breath and sense bereft.

The heavy Blade falling with oblique Sway,

Half thro' the other's Neck, did make its way.

The Head half sever'd on his Shoulders hung,

And from the Wound a bloody Torrent sprung.

Rolling in Gore upon the Field he lay,

Wildly he star'd, and groan'd his life away,

As when a mighty Tempest from the East,

The Sea assail'd, and on the Billows prest

By Heav'n's Command, that " Jacob" 's Fav'rite Race,

Might " Pharaoh" 's Arms escape, and safely pass.

Th' astonish'd Ocean did its Force obey,

Open'd his watry Files, and clear'd the pathless way.

The Waves retreated, and erected stood,

As fear and wonder had benum'd the Flood.

Then Front to Front they kept their Line unmov'd,

And those that crowd behind, they backwards shov'd.

Like a long Ridge of Crystal Hills they rose,

And the low Wonders of the deep disclose.

So valiant " Arthur" prest upon the Foe,

And so their Troops retir'd, and let the Conqueror thro.

Now he advanc'd to " Tollo" 's foremost Band,

Where mighty " Fingal" and " Dolavian" stand;

Both which he slew, next valiant " Duncan" falls,

While he in vain for Help on " Tollo" calls.

And now on every side the " Saxon" Host

Began to fly, and yield the Battel lost.

Only King " Tollo" with enormous Rage

Breaks thro' the Troops, Prince " Arthur" to engage.

Mean time the Prince of Hell stood full of Care,

And fear'd th' Event of this unequal War.

To save the " Saxon" Squadrons which remain,

Wher such Numbers lay already slain,

And to prevent " Tollo" 's impending Fate,

Whose Arms the " British" Hero's could not mate.

The conquering " Britons" fierce pursuit to stay,

And once more " Arthur" 's Triumphs to Delay,

By Heav'n's Permission, causes to arise

A dreadful Tempest in the troubled Skies.

The blustring Powers, and Demons of the Air,

Straight at his Summons to their Prince repair.

To whom thus " Lucifer" :

Aerial Powers, who my Commands obey,

And in these Regions own my soveraign Sway;

Know, I intend to end this bloody Strife,

To part the Hosts, and guard King " Tollo" 's Life.

Go hasten then, each to his known Employ,

And let your loudest Storms the Heav'ns annoy.

Swift, as your own projected Lightnings fly,

And in a Moment trouble all the Sky.

The dusky Fiends obedient fly away,

Some fetch up misty Stores to choak the Day.

Some Pitchy Clouds of " Stygian" Fleeces made,

And in their Bowels Trains of Brimstone laid.

Some ram in Seeds of unripe Thunder some,

With mighty Hailstones charge their hollow Womb.

Some fetch strong Winds, which on their Wings may bear

The heavy Tempest lab'ring thro' the Air.

O'erspreading mists th' extinguish'd sunbeams drown

Dark Clouds o'er all the Black Horrizon frown,

And hang their deep Hydropick Bellies down.

Hoarse Thunder rolls, and Murm'ring try's its Voice,

Preluding to the Tempest's dreadful Noise.

Infernal Torches now the Fiends apply,

And light the fiery Seeds that hidden lie.

The Heav'n's wide Frame outrageous Thunder shocks,

Loud, as the mighty Crack of falling Rocks.

The Cloudy Machines burst amidst the Skies,

And from their yawning Wounds exploded Lightning flies.

Confusion fills the Air, Fire, Rain, and Hail

Now mingle Tempests, now by Turns prevail.

No more the " Briton" s, and the " Saxons" strove,

For that below, yields to the War above.

The conquering " Briton" s, to the Camp return,

Their Loss in theirs, the vanquish'd " Saxons" mourn.

So when a summer Cloud the Sky o'erspreads,

The Bees that wander o'er the flowry Meads,

Or to the Tops of lofty Mountains climb,

To fetch the yellow spoils of od'rous Thyme,

Forsake their Toil, and lab'ring thro' the Air,

To their known Hives, with hasty Flight repair.

All to their Cells returning from abroad,

Depose their luscious Dew, and strutting Thighs unload.

Perplext, and sad, the " Saxon" Troops appear,

And horribly they curst Prince " Arthur" 's spear.

They saw no " Saxon" could his Arm withstand,

And doubt Deliverance from King " Tollo" 's Hand.

When half of this uneasie Night was spent,

To all the great Commanders " Octa" sent,

To bring them quickly to his royal Tent.

And first the Summons they to " Tollo" bear,

Who to equip himself did straight prepare.

A Wolf grin'd horribly upon his Head,

And o'er his brawny Back a Leopard's Hide was spread.

He girds his mighty Fauchion to his side,

Which hung across his Thigh, with fearful Pride.

Frowning, and on the great Affair Intent,

He straight to " Octa" 's high Pavilion went.

Next " Mordred" halting with his Wound, and lame,

And by his massy spear supported, came.

A Beaver's Skin upon his Head he wore,

And a fierce " Tyger" 's his wide shoulders bore.

A silver Belt, illustrious to behold,

Held his broad sword, adorn'd with studs of Gold.

Then " Ella" rose with newly laid down to Rest,

And button'd on his rich embroider'd Vest.

O'er which a pompous scarlet Cloak he threw,

Fasten'd with Golden Clasps, and lin'd with costly Blue.

Then putting on his mighty sword, in Hast

Tho lame, he to the Counsel sternly past.

Then valiant " Amades" , and " Chuline" went

With wise " Pascentius" to their Monarch's Tent

Follow'd by " Osred" , " Sebert" , and the rest

Of their chief Lords, who great Concern exprest:

And now th' august Assembly fill'd apace,

Where all the Leaders took their proper Place.

Then their Attention " Octa" did demand,

And leaning on his Scepter with his Hand,

He thus began, Princes, you see the Field

To the victorious " Briton" s still we yield.

By Sea, and Land we've felt their fatal Arms,

And all our Realm trembles at their Alarms.

Our Heaps of Dead the Field with Horrour crown,

And Seas of " Saxon" Blood the Valley drown.

All " Albion" 's Isle resounds with dying Groans,

White with her Rocks, but whiter with our Bones.

Prince " Arthur" 's Sword the Field with Ruin spreads,

Like Storms, which from the Trees dishonour'd Heads

Their shady Leaves, and spreading Branches tear,

Cover the Ground, and leave the Forrest bare.

On us th' offended Gods severely frown,

But on the " British" Arms look smiling down.

While we oppose the rapid Tide of Fate,

We think to stop what we precipitate,

And learn our Errour, at too dear a Rate.

He said, the " Saxon" Chiefs, who found their Host

Feeble, and sunk by frequent Battels lost:

Thinking their Arms unable to oppose,

The rapid Course of their victorious Foes:

Upon " Pascentius" straightway cast their Eyes,

As one above the rest accounted wise,

And who the King to Peace did still advise.

" Pascentius" then began.

" Octa" , the Counsel which at first I gave

From " Arthur" 's Arms our threaten'd State to save;

What since has happen'd, shows was just and right:

For who can meet the " British" Prince in Fight?

Our sinking State, and hard Affairs demand

A Remedy of Force, and near at Hand.

He that in such a Storm, would safely steer,

Must have a Head that's steady, cool, and clear.

'The lab'ring Ship on all sides feels dire shocks,

" Charybdis" shun'd, she's dash'd on " Scylla" 's Rocks.

Tis hard to give a Monarch Counsel where

On either Hand such frightful shelves appear.

Statesmen, in such a Case as this debate

How best to save themselves, and not the state.

But if my Judgment still I must declare,

I would at any Price compose the War.

And till a more effectual can be found,

This as a safe Expedient I propound.

Sore with their Wounds, and sunk with ill success,

The " Saxons" strong Desires for Peace express.

This to obtain, we must to " Arthur" sue,

And the first Treaty, which we broke, renew.

The Princess " Ethelina" 's Heav'nly Charms,

Are only stronger, than the " Briton" 's Arms.

She must be offer'd, as the Prince's Bride,

This once prevail'd, and must again be try'd.

But then you break the Promise, that you made

To " Tollo" , who'll complain he is betray'd.

Since hence to Peace, our chief Obstructions spring,

I move that " Arthur" , and th' " Albanian" King,

May by their single Arms the strife decide,

And let the Princess be the Conqueror's Bride.

If o'er the " Briton" s we th' Advantage gain,

And " Arthur" by th' " Albanian" King is slain.

The " Briton" s shall repass " Sabrina" 's Tide,

And in their Rocks, and Hilly Lands abide.

But all the Cities, Castles, and the Land,

That lie on this side, " Octa" shall command.

But if King " Tollo" slain by " Arthur" 's Sword,

New Triumphs to the " Briton" shall afford;

We'll meet no more their Armies in the Field,

But all our Towns, and conquer'd Places yield.

Those who shall ask it, shall be wafted o'er,

To our old seats along the " German" shore:

The " Cantian" Kingdom still we will retain,

And in its Limits circumscrib'd remain.

This, as the best Expedient, I propose,

He said, the " Saxons" murmur'd their Applause.

Then " Tollo" answer'd with a haughty Air,

Pleas'd with my Fate, I undertake the War.

My Sword and " Arthur" 's shall the Strife decide,

And let the Princess be the Victor's Bride.

This conquering Arm the " Saxon" Realm shall guard,

Repell the Foe, and win the bright Reward.

For if the Foe does not my Sword decline,

The War is ended, with his Fall or mine.

Th' Assembly rose, and back the Captains went,

Praising King " Tollo" much, but fear'd th' Event.

At the first opening of the tender Day,

Six Orators King " Octa" sent away.

To " Arthur" 's Camp, who introduc'd declare,

The Measures taken to compose the War.

The Challenge " Arthur" heard with great Delight,

And readily accepts the single Fight.

Straight to the sacred Temples all repair,

Heav'n to solicite with united Prayer,

That " Arthur" in the Combate might succeed,

And vanquish'd " Tollo" , by his Weapon bleed.

With warmer Zeal, and with more earnest Cries,

The " Briton" s never importun'd the Skies.

A deep Concern at Heart they all exprest,

And mighty Passions struggled in their Breast.

For if the Prince fell in the Combat, all

Well knew their unsupported State must fall.

Soon as the Sun had streak'd the Skies with Light,

Prince " Arthur" rose; and Arm'd himself for fight.

Peices with silver Studs his Legs encas'd,

And Plates of Gold his warlike Thighs embrac'd.

And on his Head he lac'd his burnish'd Helm,

Whence flashing Brightness did the Sight o'erwhelm.

Like some Celestial Orb his blazing Shield,

Darted amazing Lustre thro' the Field.

And then he girded to his Martial Side,

His faithful Sword, so oft in Battel try'd.

Thus arm'd the Hero mounts his thundring Steed,

Nor " Thrace" , nor " Greece" can boast a nobler Breed.

With his strong Arm he grip'd his trembling Spear,

His very Friends, tho pleas'd, yet seem'd to fear.

And as he spurr'd his Courser, and advanc'd,

Unsufferable Splendour from his Armour glanc'd.

As glorious " Michael" , when the Foe alarms

The blissful Realms, clad in Celestial Arms,

Bright as the Sun, leads forth th' Angelick Host,

To chase th' Invaders from the Heav'nly Coast,

In such illustrious Arms the Prince was seen,

His warlike Grace was such, and such his Godlike Mien.

Mean time King " Octa" from his Camp proceeds,

High in his Chariot, drawn by milk white Steeds.

And by his Side, " Tollo" , appear'd in sight,

Compleatly arm'd, and coveting the Fight.

His Coat of Mail was o'er his Shoulders flung,

And by his side his dreadful Fauchion hung.

Like a high Beacon lighted in the Air,

His Buckler flam'd, denouncing horrid War.

In his right Hand he shakes his pondrous Launce,

And on his Steed did to the Lists advance.

The Marshals of the Field had markt out Ground

Fit for the Fight, and fixt high Pales around.

Which with arm'd Troops, on either side were lin'd,

Their Spears stuck in the Ground, their Shields reclin'd.

On either Side the Armies stood in sight,

Drawn up, as they two were design'd for Fight.

Attended with his Heralds on the Place,

Prince " Arthur" first appear'd with Martial Grace.

When " Octa" and his Priests advancing near,

Raising his Voice that those around might hear.

His Hand devoutly on his Breast, his Eyes

Fixt in a solemn Manner on the Skies;

To ratifie the Treaty, thus he swore,

Th' Eternal Mind whom Christians do adore,

The God of Truth I here to witness call,

That if this Day by " Tollo" 's Arms I fall,

We will no more Hostilities repeat,

But o'er Sabrina's Waters will retreat.

We will no more the " Saxon" State molest,

But in our Hills and snowy Mountains rest.

But if we find this an auspicious Day,

And by Heaven's Aid, my Arms shall " Tollo" slay;

Then if the vanquish'd " Saxons" shall restore

The Towns and Lands, which we possest before,

They in the " Cantian" Kingdom shall reside,

And unmolested in those Bounds abide.

Then did King " Octa" by an Altar stand,

Rais'd with Green Turf, and on it laid his Hand.

And thus his Idols he invok'd.

" Irmansul God" of Arms, and mighty " Jove" ,

" Tuisco" , " Odin" , all ye Powers above,

And you green Gods, and blew-ey'd Goddesses,

Who rule the spacious Empire of the Seas.

And you tremendous Powers, who all resort,

At " Pluto" 's Summons, to th' Infernal Court:

Ye rural Gods, who rule the Hills and Woods,

Ye watry Powers, who dive beneath the Floods.

By gloomy " Styx" I swear, bear witness all,

That if King " Tollo" does in Combate fall,

The Treaty now agreed to, shall be kept,

The " Cantian" Kingdom only we except,

All other Lands, our once victorious Sword,

Won from the " British" Kings, shall be restor'd.

He who shall Conquerour in the Field remain,

Shall for his Bride fair " Ethelina" gain.

He said, and to confirm the Oath he swore,

He drew his Sword, that by his Side he wore:

And with its Point did his full Veins divide,

And let out from his Arm, the Crimson Tide.

A golden Bowl receiv'd the vital Flood,

Which " Octa" took, and drank the flowing Blood.

" Arthur" and " Tollo" now themselves prepare,

By a brave Combate to decide the War.

The Martials, Heralds, and the Fecial Priests

The Ceremonies finish'd, clear the Lists.

Then the loud Trumpet's Clangour did invite,

The mighty Warriours to begin the Fight.

Both in their Hands grasping their pointed Launce,

Spur their hot Steeds, and to the War advance.

And now the Combatants approach'd so near,

Their Voices rais'd, they might each other hear.

Then " Tollo" cry'd aloud

Till now distress'd without a Friend or Home,

In forraign Lands, you did an Exile roam,

Here stop your Course, your Soul mean time shall go,

A wandring Exile to the Shades below.

I'll take off with this Sword your gasping Head,

And in your Spoils, fair " Ethelina" wed.

Were you brave " Hector" , or his braver Foe,

Or Godlike " Hercules" , I'd stand your Blow.

Did you advance, with Thunder in your Hand,

Against your Bolts I would undaunted stand.

But such a mighty Foe I need not fear,

You bear not such a Shield, nor such a Spear.

Oh! that bright " Ethelina" now stood by,

To see her Lover, and my Rival dy.

Thus boastful " Tollo" did his Choler vent,

And thus in Air his empty Threats were spent.

The pious Prince enrag'd, without Reply,

Shakes his long Spear, and hastes to Victory.

As when a roaming Lyon from a far,

Sees a strong Bull stand threat'ning furious War,

Who flourishes his Horns, looks sowrly round,

And hoarcely bellowing, traverses the Ground.

For want of Foes, he does the Wood provoke,

Runs his curl'd Head against the next tall Oak,

Wishing a nobler Object of his Stroke.

The Lyon fir'd, regards him with Disdain,

And to insult him scowrs along the Plain.

So " Arthur" boyling with Heroic Rage,

Springs with a full Carrier, King " Tollo" to engage.

Collected in himself th' " Albanian" stood,

Like some tall, shady Pine, it self a Wood,

Or a vast Cyclops wading thro' the Flood.

Then " Tollo" first, " Arthur" advancing near,

With all his Force casts his long Ashen Spear.

Which " Arthur" on his temper'd Buckler took,

While with the vast concern the " Briton" s shook.

Thro' the first Plate of Brass the Weapon went,

But in the next its dying Force was spent.

Then from his valiant Arm the " Briton" threw,

His Javelin, singing thro' the Air it flew.

The yielding Buckler did its Force obey,

And thro' the Plates, and Hide it made its Way.

Thro' the thin Joynts of Steel the Spear did fly,

And wounded, as it past, his mighty Thigh.

The Blood sprung thro' his Armour, from the Wound,

And trickling down the Plate, distain'd the Ground.

Then did King " Tollo" 's second Weapon fly,

Which broke within the Buckler's second Ply.

The " British" Prince another Weapon threw,

Which, " Tollo" stooping, o'er his Shoulders flew.

And falling went so deep upon the Ground,

No Arm, of Force to draw it out, was found.

These Weapons spent, to end the noble Fight,

The furious Warriours from their Steeds alight.

And as they nimbly leapt upon the Ground,

The most undaunted Chiefs that stood around,

So fearful was the Chinck their Armour made,

Started, as Men surpriz'd, and look'd afraid.

Then furious Strokes on either Side they deal,

The ecchoing Air rings with the dreadful Peal.

Pale with the vast Concern both Armies look,

And for their Champion's Life with Terrour shook.

So when two vig'rous Stags, each of his Herd

The haughty Lord, thro' all the Forrest fear'd,

Resolv'd to try which must in Combate yield,

In all their Might advance across the Field;

They nod their lofty Heads, and from a far

Flourish their Horns, preluding to the War.

The Combatants their threatning Head incline,

And with their clashing Horns in Battel joyn,

They rush to combate with amazing Strokes,

And their high Antlets meet with dreadful Shocks.

The mighty Sound runs ratling o'er the Hills,

And Eccho with the fight the Valley fills.

Retiring oft, the Warriours cease to push,

But then with fiercer Rage to Battel rush.

The trembling Herds at Distance gaze, and stay

To know the Conquerour, whom they must obey.

No less concern'd " Saxons" , and " Britons" stand

To see the Victor, who must both command.

Now " Tollo" backwards shrinks, and panting stood

Faint with his Labour, and his Loss of Blood.

The " British" Prince enrag'd to see the Fight

So far prolong'd, collecting all his Might,

With double Fury on th' " Albanian" prest,

And his bright Sword high rais'd, upon his Crest

It stun'd the Foe, and took his Sense away.

He dropt his Arms, and giddy reel'd about,

The joyful " Britons" raise a mighty Shout.

" Arthur" on fire, lets not th' Advantage go,

But stepping forward with a back hand blow

Drawn with prodigious Strength, from side to side

Did his wide Throat, and spouting Veins divide.

A crimson River gushing from the Wound,

Ran down his burnish'd Armour to the Ground.

Reeling and tott'ring for a While he stood,

And from his Stomack vomits clotted Blood.

Then down he fell, the Field beneath, and all

the " Saxon" Army tremble at his Fall:

Groveling in Death, and smear'd with Gore he lay,

And his dim Eyes scarcely admit the Day.

Rolling in Dust his wounded Body bled,

Away his Soul with Indignation fled.

Convuls'd and quivering for a while he fetcht

A dreadful Groan, and breathless out he stretcht.

As when a Whirlwind with outrageous Force

O'erturns a lofty Oak, that stops its Course,

Its Roots torn up, the Tree's caught from the Ground,

And with the furious Eddy carried round:

Then falling from the Sky, his stately Head,

And shady Limbs, the groaning Hill o'erspread.

So by Prince " Arthur" 's Arms, King " Tollo" slain,

Fell down, and lay extended on the Plain.

FINIS