Sir Richard Blackmore M. D. - King Arthur: Book I lyrics

Celestial Muse, Instruct me how to sing The generous Pity of the British King, Who mov'd by Gallia's crys, and Heav'n's Command, Sustain'd excessive toyl by Sea and Land, The Gallic Christians Freedom to restore, And save Neustrasia's Realm from Clotar's power. The Valiant Briton from the Cimbrian Coast Was newly landed with his Conq'ring Host, Leading his Spoils and Captive Lords along Augusta's Streets, amidst th' applauding throng, Who sung his Triumphs and proclaim'd aloud His mighty Deeds on Eyder's wond'ring Flood: When num'rous Envoys drawn by Arthur's fame, From distant Kingdoms to Augusta came. Faces so strange, and Habits so unknown, Had ne'er before pa**'d thro' th' admiring Town. They made their publick Entrys at her Gate With great Magnificence and Princely State. They strove in Pomp each other to out-do, And who should most their Master's Greatness shew. Thick at the Court did Forreign Lords appear, Some by Affection brought, but more by Fear. Some Leagues of lasting Friendship offer'd, some Did for Protection from Oppressors come: But all, O Albion, did applaud thy fate Blest with so just a Prince to guide thy State. The Night her Sable Banner did display, And from the Air to chase the Light away Drew out her must'ring Shades in black Array: When Britain's King dissolv'd in balmy rest Dismist the Cares of Empire from his Breast. But Heav'n mean time, which such a Noble Mind For Dangers, and for glorious toyl design'd, Did by a Dream sent in the silent Night, To fresh Heroic Deeds the King excite: Its Springs divinely touch'd, his lab'ring Brain Did this Celestial Vision entertain. The pious King seem'd in his Dream to stand On Albion's Shore, and to the adverse Strand Looking across the interposing Tyde Which do's the Briton from the Frank divide, He saw upon the Beach Sev'n Men appear Of Noble Form, and more than Vulgar Air. Advancing to the Margin of the Flood, And lifting up their hands they cry'd aloud, Oh, come and help us, come victorious King, And quick Assistance to th' afflicted bring. The strong Impression Sleep's soft Fetters broke, And from his Dream the British King awoke: Who in his thoughts revolv'd what Heav'n should mean By this surprizing Visionary Scene. When the fair Morn had shot her early ray, And spread her Purple Loom with dawning Day: Four Noble Gallic Lords who had surviv'd King Clotar's Rage, at Arthur's Court arriv'd, To move the Briton's Pity, and to crave His mighty Aid their sinking State to save. Then on his Throne his Scepter in his hand Great Arthur sate, but first he gave command That these to have the Audience which they sought, Before his high Tribunal should be brought. Soon as the Franks came onward to relate King Clotar's Rage, and Gallia's wretched fate, Arthur perceiv d by Face, and Dress, and Mein That he the Men had in his Vision seen. The Gallic Peers advanc'd, and at their head Great Clovis came in Arms and Suff'rings bred. So soft his Air, so graceful was his Port, As he had practis'd nothing but the Court: And yet so brave in Arms, and so much sk**'d, As he had ne'er been absent from the Field. He spoke to all the high Concerns of State, As in the Council he had ever sate, And when amidst the Men that wore the Gown, The Schools admir'd, and thought him all their own. But his Religious Zeal and Pure Belief Crown'd with Immortal Praise the Pious Chief. The Noblest British mixt with Gallic Blood To make th' uncommon Man together flow'd: For by the Father's he was near ally'd To Gallia's King, and by the Mothers side He from the Catuclanian Princes came A house in Albion of Illustrious Fame. He with a Mournful and Pathetic Air To Britain's King address'd this humble prayer. When Heav'n with deep Compa**ion mov'd to see Mankind Destroy'd by raging Tyranny, Is pleas'd to raise some mighty Chief, to ease Kingdoms laid wast, and Captives to release; To pull proud Monarchs and Oppressors down And Right, and Liberty to re-enthrone; When such a Gift Divine from Heav'n is sent, The Poor, th' Opprest, th' Afflicted Innocent Think they have Right to tell to him their Grief, And from his generous Arms to crave Relief: Heros are Blessings on the World bestow'd, They reap the Honour, but Mankind the Good. Torn by a fierce Destroyer's bloody Jaws, And grip'd between Oppressions Iron Claws, Tormented with unsufferable Pains, Bow'd down with Grief, and laden with our Chains, Low at your feet, we for your Pity cry, To whom th' Afflicted for Protection fly. We ask Redress from your Victorious Sword, To ease sad Gallia's Realm your Aid afford. Th' Oppressor Clotar with a cruel hand Spreads fearful Desolation thro' our Land. He mocks his Gods, their Laws he disregards, And scorns alike their Vengeance and Rewards. Our Noblest Virgins from their Parents torn Are to his Bed with Barb'rous Outrage born. In every Town unheard of Rapes a**wage His Lust, as endless Murders do his Rage. His dreadful Court, like a Cyclopian Den, Is fill'd with Rapine, and half-eaten Men; Where lies of mangled Limbs an endless store, And wide mouth'd Caldrons flow with Humane Gore. For he his Subjects on his Table sets, And their raw Limbs (a horrid Banquet) eats: With Savage Riot on th' unnatural food He pours down mighty Bowls of reeking Blood. Pleas'd with the monstrous Luxury he draws Into a hideous Smile his squallid Jaws. Vast Magazines appear within his Court Where Torments are dispos'd of various sort; Where Cruelty with bloody Trophys crown'd Views all her d**hs and Tortures spread around: Wheels, Crosses, Racks by able Masters wrought Who had with Hellish Sk** and anxious thought, Refin'd Destruction to Perfection brought. And here their Curst Inventions all remain Which d**h improve, and manage ling'ring Pain. Th' Oppressor teaches Fate a slower pace, And rarely gives the Deadly stroke of Grace. He thinks to those he does Compa**ion show, Who die but once, and at a single blow. His Guards the bloody Servants of his will With Spoil and Ruin all our Cities fill. These Ministers of Hell with Sword in hand Insult our Doors, and all our Wealth demand. The Farmer sweats and tills in vain the Soil, These reap the Harvest and enjoy his Toil. Merchants who Forreign Treasures bring are lost Upon their own unhospitable Coast. Those who escape loud Tempests, Rocks, and Waves Th' inexorable Clotar never saves. Our Sons and Daughters to the Mountains fly, Where Gra** and Roots their want of Bread supply. The Men in Heaps are spread upon the Ground, And half chewn Herbs within their Mouths are found. Our Towns are Empty, and the tender Gra** Springs in the unfrequented Market-place. If to our Cruel Masters we complain, They mock our Suff'rings, and increase our Pain. Licentious Troops not sparing Sex or Age, Leave all the marks of their unbridled Rage. Bloody Assa**ins force our Doors by Night, And stab the Children in the Parents sight. Matrons and Maids together die, when first They've been dishonor'd by the Murd'rer's Lust. Some the Destroyer puts off from the Shore In Barks, without a Rudder Sail or Oar, To be convey'd, as Winds and Billows please, 'Midst all th' amazing Terrours of the Seas. Some Gally Slaves with Endless labour sweat, And on the Ocean's back their strokes repeat, While from their cruel Masters they receive More frequent wounds, than to the Seas they give. The Christians are in Christian Temples slain, And the Priest's blood do's his own Altar stain. Some doom'd in Mines to subterranean toyl, Enrich th' Oppressor with the wealthy spoil. To Prisons some are drag'd in pondrous chains, Where Ruffians Whips inflict tormenting pains. In Dungeons some 'midst loathsom Vermin lie, Some by the Rack, some by the Jav'lin die. Thy Nero's and thy Maximins, O Rome, And all the Spoilers which thy savage womb Fruitful of Monsters ever yet brought forth, Are all out-done by Clotar's single birth. His unexampled Cruelties surpa** The Deeds of all thy Persecuting Race. Ages to come will their weak Rage forget, And only Clotar's Violence repeat. They seem'd contented only to destroy, And d**h and Torment did their Fury cloy. But none of all th' Inexorable kind With Clotar's Genius Cruelty refin'd: No Master Tyrant had so vast a reach To find new Plagues, none so much Zeal to teach His Ministers strange Methods to destroy, None e'er before with such transporting joy O'er tortur'd Innocents insulting stood, None with such Pleasure bath'd himself in blood, Or in Tormenting e'er such Judgment show'd. What Monarch e'er before stood scoffing by, To see his Subjects in slow Torments dy, And told the Suff'rers there was no pretence To blame such soft and gentle Violence: Such mild inlight'ning Pains, that might display O'er their Erroneous Minds Celestial Day. All who these barb'rous Cruelties survive, The bloody Ruffians to their Altar drive; Down their Reluctant throats they thrust the Meat, And force them of their Sacrifice to eat. Conversions are by Arm'd Invaders made, Who with resistless Arguments perswade: Who for Conviction shed the People's blood And ruin wretched Mortals for their Good. The mocking Hypocrite's unjust pretence Is, to reduce by Racks and Violence Perverted Judgments to a righter Sense. The Converts of the Sword Complyance show, And full of horrour to their Idols bow; By this they hope the Conq'rour's Sword to stay, And to secure their Lives their Faith betray: But that infernal Malice may be cloy'd, That Soul and Body both may be destroy'd, The Cruel Infidel with Sword in hand O'er the new Convert do's triumphant stand: Then in his Bowels do's the Weapon sheath, Who loses both his Innocence and Breath, Rack'd with the torments of Despair and d**h. Some sore distrest to Wilds and Desarts fly, In Caves and Rocks, in Woods and Mountains ly. While, like the Jews abandon'd Nation, some Thro' Forreign Regions poor and naked roam. What Kingdom is not conscious of our Moans? Who have not seen our Tears, or heard our Groans? Do's the laborious Sun survey a Soil, In his Diurnal, or his Annual toil, Which to our Fugitives ne'er gave Relief, And never entertain'd our wandring Grief. This is the Gallic Christians wretched fate, Which not the liv'liest Accents can relate. And now the Moon twice dips her silver horns, And with fresh rays her changing face adorns; Since I, and these sad Friends together met, Resolving from Lutetia to retreat, And seek in Forreign Climes a milder seat. Then while our Country's fate we did lament, And flowing Tears gave to our sorrow vent; A glorious Form like some Inferior God, Newly descended from his blest abode Entring the Room, Celestial Lustre spread From his Immortal Eyes, and radiant Head. A Heav'nly bloom adorn'd his youthful Face, And Starry Robes did his bright Limbs embrace: When first the Lovely Stranger did appear, We bow'd with Rev'rence, and we shook with fear. Then strait th' Illustrious Person silence broke, And thus my trembling Friends and me bespoke. The God who rules as well the spacious Sky, As this low Ball, who from his Throne on high Encompa**'d with impenetrable Day, Do's all his Worlds with one quick glance survey; Who loves the Proud and Haughty to debase, And sets the Meek and Humble in their place; Touch'd with Compa**ion hears your mournful Crys, Which mixt with dying groans to Heav'n arise. He now Decrees th' Oppressor Clotar's fall, Whose full grown Crimes for swift Destruction call: For tho' his Vengefull Thunder rises slow, 'Tis to discharge a more tremendous blow. Indulgent Heav'n by Arthur's hand has broke Britannia's Fetters, and Tyrannic Yoke. His Pious Arms shall ease Lutetia's Pains, Release her Sons, and break their pondrous Chains. This Great Deliv'rer shall Europa save, Which haughty Monarchs labour to enslave. Then shall Religion reer her starry head, And Light Divine o'er all the Nations spread. Quickly embark and steer for Albion's Shore To seek King Arthur, and his Aid implore. Your prayer shall move, that Pity in his breast, Which shall engage his Arms to give you rest. He said, and strait the glorious Youth withdrew, Display'd his shining Wings, and Upward flew. Cheer'd with his words we with our utmost care Did all things for the Voyage soon prepare. When thrice the Sun had his mild splendor shed, And o'er the East Etherial purple spred: We all embarkt, and soon to Albion's Coast Born with a prosp'rous Gale the Ocean crost. Thus the Celestial Message we obey'd, Sent by Supream Command, to crave your Aid. He ceas'd. King Arthur carefully supprest The generous Pa**ion struggling in his breast. He look'd on this as on a Call Divine Which did this noble Enterprize enjoyn, The Gallic Christians Freedom to restore, And give that Aid the Suff'rers did implore. Then to the Franks the Briton thus reply'd, Your Prayer is neither granted, nor deny'd: What you have now propos'd I'll duly weigh, And then my Answer give without delay. The Franks withdrawn, the Hero order gave That Neustria's Lords should next Admission have: Soon as the Monarch did the Neustrians see, He strait discern'd these were the other three, Who in the Heav'nly Dream the Night before To give them Aid his Pity did implore. They to the Throne advanc'd when thus begun Wise Oleron Giranda's Noble Son. Victorious Prince! We know what Miracles your Arms have shown In Neustria's Soil, what greater in your own. From East to West loud fame extends her Wings, And thro' th' applauding World your triumph sings. Your mighty Deeds by wondring Moors are nam'd, From Zone to Zone, from Pole to Pole proclaim'd. Commiseration fills your Pious Breast To wretched States by heavy Yokes opprest. Mov'd by the groans of dying Liberty, You arm'd to set afflicted Europe free. You are by Heav'n a great Deliverer sent, The World's entire Destruction to prevent. Empires from Desolation to secure, From savage Rage, and wild unbounded Power. From all the dire Calamities that reign Where no fixt Laws th' Oppressor's Lust restrain. The wasted World has long with servent Crys, With groans, and tears sollicited the Skys, To give fierce Tyranny a fatal stroke, To break her Murd'ring Teeth, and Iron Yoke: With th' universal prayer kind Heav'n complies, Causing so great a Monarch to arise, Whose Soul is bent to stay the Fury's course, And whose Herculean Arm alone exceeds her force. In vain with rage her turgid Volumes swell, In vain around her womb her Monsters Yell, You all the Hydra's hissing heads despise, All her wide Jaws, sharp Tongues, and fiery Eyes. Your mighty Arm will give the deadly wound, And leave th' expiring Monster on the ground. Fertile in d**h your Sword Destruction spreads Fast as her fruitful Necks can bring forth heads. Besides you lead a Nation brave in Fight Pleas'd to procure to injur'd States their Right. When such a Prince with such a People takes The Field in arms, the pale Oppressor shakes. In Liberty's defence the warmest Zeal The nobly Jealous Britons still reveal; Asserting with their Lives her sacred Cause, They justly gain th' admiring World's applause. While neigh'bring Nations Tyrants never check, But bow to take the Yoke, their pa**ive Neck; The Britons stem Ambitions rapid course, Defeating secret frauds, and open force. Designing Princes still they have withstood, To Guard the Rights, bought by their Fathers Blood But Liberty which they to Life prefer, Could not escape the Saxon Ravisher. Rifled and spoil'd of all her Heav'nly Charms, She had expir'd in the rough Conq'rour's Arms; And Albion soon had shar'd her Neighbours fate, And felt the Mischiefs of a slavish State: Had not your generous Arms and noble Toyl, Sav'd from Destruction this despairing Isle. Had you not chas'd Tyrannic Lords away, And from their griping Arms releas'd the trembling Prey. Blest Isle! that in the lowest Ebb of fate, Found this strong Arm to prop her sinking State. Happy Britannia, did thy Sons but know, What to their brave Deliverer they owe! And now, Dread Monarch, whose victorious Arms Have freed Britannia from her Foes alarms; Whose great Example do's her Sons inflame To aim at Glory, and their ancient Fame; Unhappy Neustria by her Prince betray'd, Implores Deliv'rance from your pow'rful Aid. Scarce had you sail'd from grateful Neustria's Shore, Which ne'er receiv'd so great a Guest before, Where first your Sword Immortal Laurels won, And the first Triumphs of your Youth begun: When suddain d**h, King Odar did remove, From Neustria's throne to the blest Seats above. Sardan his Brother to his Crown Succeeds, Not to his Vertues, and Illustrious Deeds. This Prince Luxurious, and Effeminate, Averse to Arms, and Business of the State, Do's Vertue more than Arms, or Business hate. Uninterupted Riots only please. His Mind dissolv'd in long inglorious Ease. While Neighb'ring Kings their Course of Glory run, With Laurels crown'd from Vanquish'd Nations won: Ours Baccan*lian wreaths can only boast, Only the Triumphs of his mighty Lust. Our Wives and Noblest Virgins are abus'd, Compell'd by force, or by his wiles seduc'd. Lascivious Concubines their Prince surround, They're in his Bed, and in his Counsels found. These Female Ministers by turns create Our Judges, Captains, Officers of State: Our Priests themselves their vile submission make To the soft Fav'rites, for Promotion's sake. Jesters for Statsemen in his Council sit, Not chosen for their Wisdom, but their Wit; Empty Buffoons, unequal to the weight Of all th' important Business of the State. Those Ministers he thinks can serve him best, Who flatter most, and know their Business least: Who all Debates to please their Prince decide, And from the People's Intrest, his divide. This feeble Race attends this Monarch's Throne, Whose Wit and Vice resemble most his own. Th' Augean Stables, cleaner than the Court, Whither the Vicious and the Lewd resort; Th' infectious Plague by Sardan's Influence fed, Do's o'er our Noble Youth resistless spred. Poets the most Flagitious, and Prophane, Neustria e'er fed, his bounty do's maintain. Who by their Wit procure to Vice applause, And loud Derision draw on Vertue's Cause. They easy Nature with fit Baits excite, And Youth to Crimes too prone before, invite. By artful Eloquence they strive to show Those Pleasures Lawful, which they wish were so. Against their Country they their Wit engage, Refine our Language, but corrupt the Age. Our Noble Youth enervated with Vice, Abhor the Field and Martial Fame despise. The Sacred Muses, and the Letter'd Train They Mock, and Camps and Schools alike disdain. Riot, Debauch, Masks and Unmanly Sport, Are all the Triumphs our soft Hero's Court. Sardan all marks of Lust of Empire gave; None more desir'd his Country to Enslave: But the designing Monarch was afraid With open force, our Freedom to invade. His want of Courage his Ambition checkt, And his strong Fears his People did Protect. Oft on the Banks of Rubicon he stood, But ne'er was bold enough to leap the Flood: But that with crafty Arts he might prevail, And undermine the Fort, he durst not Scale: That those he could not force he might decoy, He labour'd Neustria's Vertue to destroy. His great design was to Emasculate Our Martial Youth, and then destroy the State. Thus he believ'd he might Neustrasia bring, Beneath the Yoke of Gaul's aspiring King. Whose growing Power he did with pleasure view, And gave him Aid his Neighbours to subdue. Whence he contracted Everlasting Shame, And future Ages must despise his name. So ill he wish'd to the Neustrasian State, So much he courted Clotar's prosp'rous Fate, That to advance the Triumphs of his Crown, He sacrific'd the Int'rests of his own. He therefore sent to Clotar to demand, A force sufficient to subdue the Land. Clotar whose num'rous Armys ready lay, Watching a season fit to seize the Prey, Invades our Coasts, and soon was Master made Of our strong Places to his hands betray'd. Thus did he force Neustrasia to obey A Neighb'ring Monarch's Arbitrary Sway. Sardan was pleas'd so Neustria was undone To wear himself a Tributary Crown. Since that, our Land the worst of Plagues torment, Which Power could e'er inflict, or Wit invent. This mighty Prince is our Afflicted State, These the deep Suff'rings, which our Grief create. We pray by that Immortal Fame you won, By all your Wonders in Neustrasia done: We pray by yours, we pray by Odar's name, And by your ancient Friendship's sacred flame: To Neustria's Sons their ravish'd Rights restore, And free her Soil from cruel Clotar's Power. From her gaul'd Neck remove th' uneasy Yoke, Only by Valiant Arthur to be broke. He ceas'd. The King from his high Throne descends, Mov'd with Compa**ion to his ancient Friends. Declaring e'er he rose, he would prepare A speedy answer to th' important prayer. Twice on the World the Sun his beams bestow'd, And twice his glorious tyde had ebb'd, and flow'd: When Franks and Neustrians at the King's Command Call'd to attend before his Throne did stand, The Pious Monarch this kind answer made To these sad Strangers who had crav'd his aid. The Christians Suff'rings by Tyrannic might Against the Laws of Heav'n, and civil Right, All who with kindly to Mankind lament, And Christian Kings more deeply must resent. My Troops I'll therefore for the Neustrian Shore Embark, your Rights and Freedoms to restore. Where if propitious Heav'n affords us Aid, Our Arms shall next the haughty Frank invade. He ceas'd, the Captains did for Arms declare Nobly impatient of the Righteous War. Heroic Ardor all their Vitals warm'd, And on the Plains the must'ring Cohorts swarm'd. A War with Gaul so much, so long desir'd The joyful Britons with fresh Life inspir'd. Long had they wish'd to see on Britain's Throne A warlike Prince, one that himself would own To be the Christians chief Protecting Head, Who would the British Troops to Gallia lead. Indulgent Heav'n at last their wishes grants, Raising a Prince who answers all their wants. One that to Albion's eager Youth will show The Gallic Fields, and their old haughty Foe. Each brandishes his Spear, his Fauchion weilds, And seems already in Lutetia's Fields. The Noise of Arms and marching Soldiers toyl And Warlike Preparations fill the Isle. The Trumpet's Voice do's Britain's Sons excite, And waving Banners to the Field invite. The Shepherd on the Hills his Flock forsakes, Casts by his Crook, and the bright Javelin takes. The Husbandman do's from his labour leap, To plough the Seas, and Gallic Laurels reap. He beats his Ploughshares into Helms and Shields, Deserts his Harvest, and his flowry Fields, Neglects his Tillage, and his Rural Gains, To plant with British Spears Parisian Plains. The Lords forsake their Woods, and Sylvan Sport, And from the Forrest to the Camp resort. They leave the Mountains, and the flying Game To follow Honour, and Immortal Fame. Some few Inglorious Youths for Arms unfit Refus'd the Pleasures of the Stage to quit. Who only War in Theaters have seen, And Camps and Battles only on the Scene. Fit only shows and Laurels to prepare For Arthur come victorious from the War: To run, and shout amidst th' applauding throng, As Britain's Sons in Triumph pa** along. Refulgent Arms Augusta's Merchants weild And to the busy Change prefer the Field. These brave Adventurers in the noble War, Will Honour fetch, as well as Wealth from far. Some mount their Steeds, and to the Field advance, Some shake the Spear, and some the Warlike Lance. Part arm'd with feather'd d**h their Quivers throw Across their Shoulders, and new string their Bow. Some round their Necks the martial Coslet clasp, Some the broad Shield, and glitt'ring Javelin grasp. Part on their heads the burnish'd Helmet lace, And all in Plate their vig'rous Limbs encase. The Royal Fleet with equal hast and care, The rigid Captains of the Sea prepare. The craggy Rocks and crooked Shores around With labour, and promiscuous crys resound. The Saylor's toil fills every Beach and Strand, And the Sea-Clamours vye with those by Land. Some from their Magazines draw Naval Stores, Long trembling Masts, and Cordage to the Shores. Some in the Hills with loud repeated strokes, Dismember nodding Pines and groaning Oaks. The lifted Axe thro' all the Mountain sounds To heal the Navy's with the Forest's Wounds. For Masts, and Planks, they fell the fairest Trees, The rest, for supplemental Ribs and Knees. They draw the Spoils from the dishonour'd Wood, Whose Trees, that once fixt and unshaken stood, Must now find Wings to fly upon the Flood. Some from wide Bellows mouths whole Tempests blow, To make vast Anchors in the Forges glow; Then choak'd with flame and smoke, and smear'd with sweat, Vulcanian Youth the Red-hot Iron beat. Some on the Strand Careen, and fresh adorn The Ships grown foul, and with their labour worn. Some new ones Launch, which with surprising Art From all their Bands, and Wooden Fetters start: They break away, and from their Cradles flee Now to be rock'd upon the restless Sea. Some carry Arms, and Warlike Stores aboard, Some in the Ship's deep Caves Provisions hoard. Whole Herds of fatted Swine and Oxen dy, The Ships capacious Bellys to supply, Furnish'd by old Polcaran's toilsom care, The first that cloy'd the hungry mouth of War. Then all th' expected Equipage on Board, Their Topsails loos'd, and all the Ships unmoor'd; The Royal Navy on the Billows rode, And prest with heavy War th' uneasie Flood. The fierce Commanders stand in awful State, On their high Decks, and Arthur's coming wait. The Monarch with his valiant Troops arrives, And strait t' embark his Army order gives. The British Cohorts at the King's Command, Mount their tall Ships, and long for Neustrian Land. Loud Boreas to extend the spacious Sails, From Northern Prisons frees his chosen Gales, All bold and vig'rous, and refresh'd with ease, All vers'd in toil, and conscious of the Seas. These swell the Canva** with their utmost force, And strait to Neustria's Shore direct their course. The panting Winds to shove the Navy strain, And of the Squadrons weight in Sighs complain, The Labour of the Air, and Burden of the Main. The bounding Castles on the Billows dance, And in long Order on the Deep advance. While wanton Dolphins round the Squadrons play, And sporting Course each other o'er the Sea. Huge Porpoises and the great Lords that reign O'er all the Scaly People of the Main, Attend the Navy with an endless train. The Finny Murd'rers that the Deep infest, Forsake their Prey, and give the Ocean rest: While they at distance gaze, and fawning roll To Court the Prince who do's their Seas controul; Fearing the great Deliv'rer came to free The watry Nations too from Tyranny. On the high Cliffs in throngs the Neustrians stood, And on the Sandy Margin of the Flood, Advanc'd, as far as Waves permit, to meet Europe's Restorer and his Potent Fleet. And when they saw, the Navy under Sail Advancing to them with a prosp'rous Gale, With such loud Shouts they made the Mountains ring, As sunk the Winds which should their wishes bring. So Thund'ring Cannons, when two Fleets engage, With their loud roar the angry Seas a**wage, Awe list'ning Winds, and calm their weaker rage. King Arthur's Navy made the Neustrian Land, And strait the Britons leap'd upon the Strand: Their warlike Ensigns on the Hills display'd Declare th' arrival of th' expected Aid. Now Muse the Names of those great Hero's sing, And mighty Chiefs, who with the British King On this illustrious Expedition went, And pitch'd in Neustrian Fields the warlike Tent. Shobar was first, sprung from a Noble Line, Which dwelt upon the Banks of rapid Rhine. His martial Genius early did appear, Danger he knew, but knew not how to fear. Eager of fame he fought with studious care Battles, and Camps, and all the Seats of War. His valiant Deeds won Universal Fame, And every Soil his Triumphs did proclaim. His mighty Name was thro' Europa spread, All Armys strove to have him for their head, For those were sure of Conquest, which he led. A noble Fire did in his Veins abide, And the severest Wisdom was its Guide. His Camp the only School of War was thought, Which all young Hero's for Instruction sought, For none had Martial Art to such Perfection brought. But worn with Labour, Battles, Camps, and Age The Hoary Warriour left the bloody Stage. Back to his Fields, and Rural Seat he came Laden with Laurels and Immortal Fame. Resolving, far remov'd from noise and strife, To spend in Peace his short Remains of Life. But when he heard how Arthur's Arms were prais'd, And what a great Restorer Heav'n had rais'd, Nations oppress'd from Bondage to release, And to procure to suff'ring Christians, Ease, The Pious Chief resumes his Sword and Shield, And once again resolves to take the Field. The ancient Warriour felt a youthful flame, And from the Rhine to find King Arthur came. Arthur who knew what Deeds he had atchiev'd, With high respect the brave Old Man receiv'd. He always to his Counsels did attend, Call'd him his Father, and his Faithful Friend. Next mighty Solmar who was near ally'd To pious Arthur by the Mother's side; Who by his Strength and Sk** in Arms had won Authority, Esteem, and great Renown, Brother to Meridoc, of glorious fame With th' Ordovician youth to Arthur came, Next faithful Lucius Arthur's fav'rite Knight, An able Statesman, and as brave in Fight. Who from his Youth his Monarch serv'd and lov'd, And in the greatest Streights his Zeal approv'd, No Servant from a Monarch e'er before Receiv'd more Love, and none deserv'd it more; He the Silures from their Country led, O'er whom the King had plac'd him as their head. The stout Cornavians to engage the Foes, The Region left where fam'd Sabrina flows. The fertile Soil where Etocetum stands, And which obeys Branonium's high Commands. Some left Presidium still a noble Town, And the rich Soil, that did her Empire own. And some the Citys, that on Dovus lay, And where fair Deva do's her Streams convey, Thro' smiling Vallys to th' Hibernian Sea. The Atrebatian and Dobunian Lords Brought their Battalions from Sabrina's Fords. And from the Soil where Ouze and Tama meet, The Muses Garden now, and high Imperial Seat: Prince Osor worthy of his noble Line, Whose mighty Deeds in Albion's story shine, Warm with a generous and Heroic flame, Fearless of d**h, and fond of warlike Fame, Zealous to give the suff'ring Christian rest, To break th' Oppressor, and defend th' Opprest Into the field these Various Nations brought, Who arm'd with Spears, and Battle Axes fought. Osor so high in Arthur's Favour stood For Martial Vertue, and Illustrious Blood, That he the Youth to ancient Chiefs prefer'd, And Gen'ral of the Cavalry declar'd. Malgo King Arthur's Master of the Horse Fam'd for his Courage, and his wondrous force, Whose Courteous Manners and Deportment won No less Applauses, than his Sword had done, The brave Dimetians to the Army led, All valiant Troops to warlike labour bred. The Trinobantes with the Region blest, Which the Victorious Saxon once possest, Left the Delightful Banks of Thamisis, The Seat of Plenty and Terrestrial Bliss. They left Augusta which by Arthur's Sword To Truth divine, to Right, and Law restor'd, From Pagan Gods, and from th' Oppressor freed, Reer'd up to Heav'n her high Imperial head: For stately Domes and lofty Tow'rs renown'd, With Arts and Arms, and Wealth and Empire crown'd. Capellan valu'd for his Youthful Charms, For his high Birth, and forward Zeal in Arms: The warlike Deeds of whose Illustrious Line, As well as Suff'rings, in our Annals shine, Into the field the Trinobantes led, And shone in splendid Armour at their head. Some bore the glitt'ring Spear, and some the Bow All bold in Arms, and pleas'd to meet the Foe. The warlike Youth rul'd by Icenian Lords, Some arm'd with Halberts, some with two edg'd Swords, Left all the Citys which adorn the Coast, Where the Germanic Ocean's waves are tost. The Catuclaxian Cohorts left the Soil, That lay the inmost of the British Isle. Those who in Lactodorum did reside, Which Usa's Stream did in the midst divide. And those who all the Region round possest Adorn'd with Citys, and with Riches blest. These valiant Squadrons arm'd with Slings and Bows, Brave Talmar led to charge the Gallic Foes. A truly martial, but impetuous Fire Did with immoderate heat his breast inspire. Nobly impatient of unbounded Power, He strove Britannia's Freedom to secure. A brave Assertor of her ancient Laws, Of Pious Arthur's, and the Christian Cause. Onwards he always prest, and Danger sought, Patient of toyl, and fearless to a fau't. His Courteous Manners, easy, free Address, Th' indulgent care he did for all express Providing due supplys for all their Wants, And kindly hearing all their just Complaints. Made the brave Chief the British Youths Delight Of Arthur's Camp the most applauded Knight. The Ottadenians left Alaunus flood, Near which the famous Roman Bullwark stood, Rais'd with prodigious labour to protect The Frontier, from th' Jernian, and the Pict. With these the stout Brigantes who confin'd On th' Ottadenian Towns, their Ensigns joyn'd. They from Galatum on Ituna's Stream, And from delightful Aballaba came With these appear'd the fierce Arbeian Youth, And those who dwelt near Moricambe's Mouth. Fair Gabrosentum did her Squadrons send, As did the Towns that on her Power depend. The Troops Mancunium left, and all the Fields To which Merseia verdant Riches yields. These Maca led a Caledonian Knight, Long vers'd in Arms, Sedate, yet brave in Fight. He still advanc'd by Military Rule, Vig'rous in Action, but in Counsel cool. He all the British Captains did out-shine For pure Devotion, Zeal and Love divine. Just, Upright, Faithful, and with Vice unstain'd Eu'n in a Camp the Pious Chief remain'd: And nobler heats Religion do's inspire, Than what from Honour spring, and native Fire. These aim at transient Empire and Renown, But those at Heav'n, and an Immortal Crown. Coril a valiant Durotrigian Knight, Who ever made the Camp his chief delight; A great Commander, to the Soldier dear, Void of all Pride, uncapable of Fear, Brought his bold Troops from Durnavaria's Fields, With mighty Fauchions Arm'd, and spacious Shields. The Regnian Troops came from the Hilly Land, Which lies direct against the Neustrian Strand. From all the Citys, Castles, and the Towns, Or in the Vales, or in the airy Downs Which stretch on great Augusta's Southern side, Between the Ocean, and fair Isis tyde. With these the Belgian Britons did unite, Who did in Battles and in Camps delight. These came from Venta, and the Citys found On the delightful Plains which lye around. Great Cutar Viceroy of fair Vecta's Isle, Brought these Battalions from their native Soil. A generous Impulse, and a noble Flame Urg'd the brave Man to seek Immortal Fame. Ravish'd with War's and Danger's horrid Charms, He with impetuous Ardor flew to Arms. Triumphant Conquerors with their Laurels crown'd, Not more delight, than he in Combate found. He midst the Foe the hottest Battle sought, And grown with d**h familiar, fearless fought. His strong desire of Arms was never cloy'd, With such a Relish Danger he enjoy'd. Soon as the rang'd Battalions came in sight, He felt fierce Joy, and terrible Delight, And shudder'd with his eagerness to Fight. What flames flew from his Eyes, when he from far View'd the sowr Brows, and murth'ring Jaws of War? He midst the Heros was for Valour fam'd, And midst the Bards, with envy'd Honour nam'd. He by his matchless Song, as well as Sword The Laurel gain'd, and loud Applause procur'd. The Cangian Britons left the wealthy Soil, Which with abundance crowns the Farmer's toil. Where fair Uzella rolls her noble tyde, And o'er the Meads unfolds her silver pride. They left the Citys rais'd on Thona's flood, And on the Fields round Coitmaur's spacious Wood. From all the Towns round airy Camelet, Which bears the name even now, of Arthur's seat; Where winding Bruis with her lazy Stream Surrounds Glascona's Isle, where antient fame Has plac'd the Seat of th' Arimathean Saint, Who first in Albion did Religion plant: Which do's with pious Sepulchers abound, And where King Arthur's blest Remains were found. From high Mendippa and the spacious Plains Blest with rich Entrails, and Metallic veins. Where rapid Floods flow roaring under ground, Where the fam'd Grotto Ochi Hol is found; Which do's Parthenope all thine out-do, That of Lucullus, and the Sybils too. The warlike Youth from Aqua Solis came, Whose wholsom Baths give Sinews to the Lame. Their Healing Power the wise affirm proceeds, From unform'd Minerals, and Metallic Seeds, Which wash'd away from Subterranean Caves Impregnate with their Heat the flowing Waves. Whether these Seeds which in the Water strive, Or some good Angel do's the Vertue give, 'Tis sure that Health and Vigour they impart Above the reach of Æsculapian Art. Witness the Spoils and Trophys which are shown From vanquish'd d**h, and from Diseases won. Erla of Lands of great extent possest, With Ease, with Honour, with Abundance blest, By Pity mov'd, and martial Ardor warm'd, To aid th' opprest Lutetian Christians Arm'd. For Danger, and for Honourable toil He left his Ease, his Wealth, and Native Soil. The bold Danmonians did attend their Lord, Each took his Shield and wav'd his threat'ning Sword. Active and vig'rous they advanc'd their Names By Wrestling, Whorlbat, old Heroic Games. They left the Southern, and the Northern Shore, Where British Seas, or where th' Hibernian roar. Th' undaunted Youth from fair Tamara came, And from the Flood that gave the Town its name. They left Voluba, and Cenonis Mouth, The most applauded Haven of the South. They left the Banks of Isca and the Town For Commerce, Wealth, and Power, of great renown. These mighty Men to warlike labour bred, Came from their hilly Land by Trelon led. For old indulgent Cador at his d**h To Pious Arthur did his Realm bequeath. Viceroy of which King Arthur Trelon made, Whom the Danmonians as their Head obey'd. His Martial Vertue do's in Story Shine, A Vertue common to his ancient Line: For Trelon's Noble House was so renown'd, For mighty Deeds, that none was ever found Who wanted Valour, or did e'er debase By one inglorious Deed the Martial Race! True Eagles they, when Infants, could behold A Burnish'd Helm, or blazing Shield of Gold: Ev'n then no horrid object mov'd their fear, And their first play was with a Sword, or Spear. The Coritanians left the Towns that stood, Along the Banks of swift Aufona's flood. Their Squadrons left the fat and fertile Land, Where Verometum's Tow'rs and Raga's stand. Where Margidunum from the Mountain's brow Proudly surveys the wide stretcht Vale below. Where Lindum reers her antient, awful head, By all the Fenny Region round obey'd. Where famous Pontis stood an ancient Town By Roman Coins and checker'd Pavements known: Brave Stannel patient of Heroic toil, Sprung from a Race of Kings whom Mona's Isle Insulted by the wild Hibernian Sea, But blest with temp'rate Empire, did obey: Who always for his Country bravely fought, To Neustrian Fields the Coritanians brought. The valiant Youth advanc'd their warlike Ranks From noble Abum's, and Darventio's Banks. Some from Calcaria came, from Danum some, Some from the Tow'rs of high Eboracum. Gotric a Chief Majestic, Awful, Grave, Wise in the Senate, and in Battle brave; Of unstain'd Honour, and uncommon worth, Brought in these bold Brigantes from the North. All Men of Courage and of subtile Wit, All for the Camp, and some for Counsel fit. The warlike Squadrons from Meldunum came, Almost encompa**'d by Antona's Stream. From old Verlucio, and the fertile Land, Where Leckham now, and ancient Cosam stand: Cosam, with Plenty blest and temp'rate Air, To me a Soil above all others dear. The valiant Youth from Sorbiodunum came, Of all their Towns the Chief, in Power and Fame. Whose gilded Domes and Towers amidst the Sky, With all but those of great Augusta vy. Around her Walls lie stretcht the famous Plains, Which Eccho with the toil of joyful Swains, Where happy Shepherds with more Flocks are blest, Than the Sicilian Mountains e'er possest; Who fill the Air with loud, and sweeter Lays Than those which once did fam'd Arcadia raise. They left the Bourns, and all the fertile Plain Where the high Monument do's still remain Of Albion's Lords by Saxon Treach'ry slain. An awful Pile wondrous in every part, Not wholly wrought by Nature, nor by Art. The Stones are all of such prodigious weight, And raise their heads to such amazing height, Such is the Structure's rude Magnificence, And proud Disorder, that it makes pretence To be Gigantic work, wherein are shown High Rocks on Rocks with careless labour thrown. Where now th' admiring Trav'ller may behold What mighty Men Britannia bred of Old. They left Cunetio still a noble Town Rais'd on a fair, delightful, spacious Down, Which over-looks the Vale, whose fruitful Crops Out-do the greedy Farmer's utmost hopes. Vebba a Cangian Chief of great Renown, Who by his Arms had frequent Laurels won; A Leader worthy of the high Command, Brought to King Arthur's Camp this Cangian Band These mighty Warriors from the British Isle, Attended Arthur to his Foreign toil.