The Prince of Hell that on the Moutain staid,
And with Infernal Joy around survey'd
The Camp, where d**h 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 Britons 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 pa**es 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 a**umes.
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 Britons 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 Britons 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 Britons 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 d**h 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 ma**y 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 Cæsar'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 Cæsar, 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 Cæsar 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 Britons 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 Britons 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 Britons 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 Britons, 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 d**h, 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 Compa**ion 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 Britons arm'd,
Believing that the Britons 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 a**ail.
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 a**ume,
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 Britons 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 Britons saw,
And thence reviving Warmth, and Courage draw.
His God-like Language calms their troubled Minds,
And with its Charms reluctant Pa**ions binds.
He to their frozen Veins new Life procures,
Dispels their Doubts, and fainting Hopes a**ures.
The Britons 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 a**ists, 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 Britons 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 Cæsar thus contemn'd his Augurs Tales,
Fights, and o'er Foes, and Portents too, prevails.
Thus Octa strove their Pa**ion 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 Gra**y 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 d**h.
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 Britons 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 Britons, 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 Britons 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 a**ail
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 Britons 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 Britons 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 Britons 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 d**h 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 Cuira**iers, 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, Bra** of Etherial mould
Refin'd above, their joynted Gauntlets made;
Bra**, 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 Bra** 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 pa**.
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 Cuira**, 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 Pa**ions, 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 Carca** 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.