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

Strait thro' the neighb'ring Citys welcom Fame King Arthur's Landing did aloud proclaim. The Neustrain Youth by Gallic Power opprest, Reviving Hopes, and wondrous joy exprest. In shouting throngs they left the Oazy Coast, And Inland Towns to joyn King Arthur's Host. They came from Juliobana and the Land Which Breviodunum's Castles did Command. From all the Towers and pleasant Towns that stood On the sweet Banks of fam'd Sequana's flood. Gomar and Rollo two illustrions Lords Whose Deeds adorn Neustrasia's old Records; Who lov'd their Country and its Freedom sought, To joyn the Briton their Battalions brought. Arthur advanc'd, and all Neustrasia's Fields Shone bright with polish'd Helms and blazing Shields. The Host in warlike Columns took the way To the rich Fields where Rotomagum lay. Mean time the Gauls who Neustria's Soil possest By Sardan entertain'd, and much carest, Did Arthur's fame and valiant Army dread, Deserted Neustria, and to Clotar fled. With these inglorious Sardan, who the sight Of Swords and Spears detested, took his Flight. Arthur did soon the Gallic Frontier gain, And lay encamp'd along Lutetia's Plain. There stood a Dome whose Pinnacles did rise Above the Clouds, and enter'd far the Skys, Surveying proud Lutetia far and wide, Which aw'd the Nations with Imperial pride. Along the flowry Banks the City stood Where silver Sein rolls down her noble flood. The Prince of Darkness from the Temple's head View'd Arthur's Army o'er the Vally spread. Enormous Rage distended every vein, And all Hell's Furys o'er his Breast did reign. Swoln with Revenge his blood-shot Eyes did glare Like Ruddy Meteors blazing in the Air! He gnash'd his Teeth and his black Brows he bent; Then thus he spake to give his Anger vent. How great and wide is my Imperial Sway, Whom all the Peers of Hell's dark Realms obey? I over all th' Aerial Powers preside, Who raise loud Storms, and on wild Whirlwinds ride. These Powers at my Command the World Assail With blended Ruin, Thunder, Rain and Hail. All the dire Ministers of d**h and Hell That chain'd in gloomy Prisons howl and yell; All the fierce Furys fly at my Command, To spoil a Town, or wast a fruitful Land. My hollow Caves and Magazins contain Endless variety of Grief and Pain. Where panting Thirst with ghastly Famine dwells, And pois'nous Damps in raw unwholsom Cells Engender livid Plagues; where how to moan Sad Grief first learnt, and Torment how to groan. Here uninstructed d**h first learnt her Arts, First strung her Bows, and pointed first her Darts. These all obey me, in my Court beside, Haughty Ambition, Riot, Lust and Pride, Revenge and Envy my Domesticks dwell, My fav'rite Plagues, that all the rest excel, And vastly have enlarg'd the power of Hell. These always foremost in my Troops appear, And for my following Plagues the pa**age clear. These make th' Assault, and all my Furys teach To mount the Walls where they have made the Breach. Their mighty Triumphs and Victorious fame Kingdoms laid wast and ruin'd Worlds proclaim. What blest Destruction have th' Invaders spred O'er Christian Realms by me their Monarch led? What States have they attack'd and not prevail'd, Who have escap'd their Arts, if Power has fail'd? And shall this Briton still advance his Arms, And shake my Temples with his proud alarms? Shall he my Priests from my high Altars chase, And dispossess the Franks Victorious Race, Who such a Pa**ion for my Empire show, And are so dear to all the Powers below? Shall this fair City, this new Babilon, This other nobler Rome, this pious Town, Where all in prostrate Adoration ly Before our Shrines, and for Protection cry, Where with such strains of pure Devotion all Our Temples fill, and us their Guardians call; Shall Arthur's impious Arms this Town deface And thro her Streets in haughty Triumph pa**? Shall the proud Christian this fair Region gain? Expel my Franks, and o'er Lutetia reign? Shall these sweet Vineyards, this delightful Soil With a rich Vintage crown the Briton's toil? Then I in vain Immortal vigor boast, My Scepter's gone, and all my Empire lost. All will Revolt who now obey my Laws, And Rome her self desert my righteous Cause. Nor Vot'rys here, nor Subjects will below, To me, as to their God, or Monarch bow. By any means, by Stratagem, or Force, I must arrest th' ambitious Briton's Course. If all Hell's Power thy Empire can sustain, Lutetia, thou thy Greatness shalt maintain. But whether Force or Fraud we shall employ In this Conjuncture Arthur to destroy, Must be debated and consider'd well, On this I must Consult the Powers of Hell. He said, and strait th' enrag'd Arch-Traytor flys To Hell's Abyss, and leaves the Crystal Skys. As when an Eagle from a Mountain's head Surveys the flowry Vale around him spread, And sees a Snake along the Meadow play Enliven'd with the Spring's reviving Ray; The Eagle stoops down from the Mountain's top, And in a moment takes the Viper up: The twining Beast his crooked Pounces bear Wriggling and hissing swiftly thro' the Air. So swift a flight the wing'd Apostate made, And in a moment reach'd th' Infernal Shade. High on the gloomy Banks of Lethe's flood The haughty Monarch's awful Palace stood; Built with Angelic Art and cost immense, With fearful Pomp, and vast Magnificence. The lofty Roof, amazing to behold, Was all of burnish'd, fine, Tartarean Gold, Which dismal Glory did around display Thro' the Dun Air, and made a hideous Day. The high rais'd Pillars were of Stygian Jet, Of Doric Order in high Ranges set. The Walls were Marble, streak'd with bloody stains And Azure intermixt with Purple veins. Around thick Groves of shady Cypress grew, O'er which prodigious Bats, and croking Ravens flew. Poppys the Gardens bore, and Hollioaks, Henbane, and Nightshade and unwholsom Box. Hither the summon'd Spirits did resort, And with their numbers fill'd their Prince's Court. Th' Assembly made a murm'ring hollow sound, Like that of Torrents rolling under ground; But all the busy Spirits, when they saw Their Monarch enter, with a silent Awe Attentive waited, he ascends his Throne, Which high erected o'er the Assembly shone. Then with a frowning Look yet haughty Air He thus began. High States of Hell, th' Affair Which now demands your Counsel, I'll declare. Britannia's Monarch our Inveterate Foe, Who do's such hatred to our Empire show, Who has our Temples and our Groves laid wast, Destroy'd our Vot'rys and our Shrines defac'd, To storm Lutetia has the Ocean crost And shakes our Altars with his impious Host. All means yet us'd his Progress to oppose Have fruitless been, the Briton greater grows. He has eluded all our deep Designs And now in Arms before Lutetia Shines. Against her Towers his Ensigns are display'd, And our fierce Franks are of his Fame afraid. If by the Briton this fair City's won, Gallia farewell, that Realm from Hell is gone. There, we no more shall be as Gods ador'd, No praise return'd, no more our Aid implor'd. No Victims more shall at our Altars dye, No Vot'rys more before us prostrate lye. No more your Pamper'd Nostrils shall be fed With fatty steams from burning Entrails spred. No more you'll wanton in aspiring flames, Nor revel more in blood of Goats and Rams. In your high Groves you must no longer stay, Nor in sweet Clouds of rising Incense play. If Gallia's lost, Iberia may be too, Ausonia next the Conqueror will subdue. If this Success attends th' Ambitious Foe, Illustrious Peers, say whither will you go? If to the Frozen or the Burning Zone, To Heats and Colds not much unlike your own. Or shall we always here despairing ly, Freeze on this Ice, or in these Burnings fry? Shall we take up with this Infernal Shade, Content no milder Regions to invade? Did we such wondrous Labour undergo, Such God-like Wit, and God-like Courage show, To win this Province from th' Almighty Foe; And shall we tamely yield the noble Spoil, And just Reward of all our ancient toil? Speak, Princes, how shall we Lutetia Aid, Whether by Art or Power we shall invade The British King; propound the likeliest way To check his Arms, and his swift Progress stay. He said, and straightway Belus rose, outdone In Fierceness, Pride and Insolence by none Of all th' Apostate Spirits, who combin'd To take up Arms against th' Eternal Mind: Who with th' Almighty for Dominion strove Troubling with Civil War the Realms above. Fir'd with excessive Rage he Silence broke, And thus th' attentive Senators bespoke. Prudent, Considering Spirits may destroy Those whom their Arts and subtile Wiles decoy: I hate your wise Expedients, I declare For generous Arms, and honourable War. Tricks amongst Angels must our fame debase, And stain the Glory of our Heav'nly Race. Our Mould's Divine, of pure Etherial Light, We the first Offspring of Eternal Might. An unextinguish'd flame dilates our Veins, And thro' our Limbs Immortal Vigour reigns. Shall such a Race to Shifts and Cunning fly, And not on Power, and matchless Strength rely? I scorn a sordid un-Angelic course, Unworthy of our Birth, and of our Force. In our first Wars what Courage did we show Shaking the Throne of our Almighty Foe? 'Tis true we fell, but yet the glorious Field Do's greater fame than thousand Conquests yield Won from Created, Vulgar Enemys; Great was th' Attempt, and bold the Enterprise. Success we wanted, but the brave Design In Heav'n's and Hell's Records shall ever shine. And shall we think our Strength and Courage less, And by our Shifts our Impotence confess? That which perhaps may Cautious Spirits damp Is this, that drawn out round the British Camp Of the Seraphic Guards a Party stands, Which Michael our old Enemy Commands. We know this Hallelujah singing Host, Who such Devotion and Religion boast: Who look on us, Curse on their Gracious Sect As Reprobates, with scorn and proud neglect. They would not with our Arms their Forces joyn, T' a**ert our Right, and gain our high Design. They would no Succours to our Army send, But still their tender Conscience did pretend. Yet Conscientions Michael and the rest Who such abhorrence of our Cause exprest, Beneath the Veil of Sanctity and Zeal Falshood, Revenge, Malice and Pride conceal. On Heav'n with open Arms they will not fall, For this the timerous Saints Rebellion call. But oft I've heard their best Arch Angels Ly, I know their Fraud, and deep Hypocrisy. These Godly Seraphs let our Arms attack, And to their Praying Regions chase them back. To us their Numbers and their Strength are known, We know their Courage, and we know our own. Thro' Hells dark Realms let's sound the loud alarm, And give Command for all our Youth to Arm. Your Ensigns on the Dusky Plains display, And draw your Legions out in long Array: Legions that Life, and Strength Immortal feel, Arm'd all in Adamant and treble Steel. Let's empty all our Arsenals, and drain Our stores of d**h, and Magazins of Pain. We'll draw out all th' Artillery of Hell, Artillery, like that by which we fell. We'll ride in flaming Tempests thro' the Air, And on the Foe discharge amazing War. Blue flames we'll carry from these Sulphurous Caves, And lave into the Air these boiling Waves. With this Tormenting Fire the Foe we'll burn, And against Heav'n, will Heav'n's own Vengeance turn! Up from their Roots these burning Hills we'll tear, And Hell's tremendous Spoils aloft we'll bear, And hurl our Racks and Tortures thro' the Air. With Storms of Fire, with Thunder, Rain and Hail, Mingled Destruction, we'll their Camp Assail. For our great Prince is Monarch of the Air, Our Empire still is uncontested there: Thus we th' Angelic Guards will soon remove, And send them to excuse themselves above. When they dismay'd back to their Seats are fled We'll o'er the Britons dire Destruction spred. Thus we'll Lutetia save, and Blood and Spoil Shall sooth our Torments, and our Pains beguile. He said. Then Rimmon rose up from his Place, Of noble Stature, and Majestic Grace. In Eloquence and soft perswasive charms He much excell'd, but little car'd for Arms. No Seraph of a vaster Genius fell From the blest Regions to the Gulph of Hell. No Lord, that in th' Infernal Council sate Sustain'd with greater sk** a high debate, Or seem'd more fit for Business of the State. None spoke with so much Ease, and such Address, None Business better knew, or lov'd it less. Dissolv'd in Luxury, in Sloth and Ease, He War declin'd, and pleaded still for Peace. No nobler Presence in the Court appear'd, None by the Senators was better heard. They knew his falshood, yet th' attentive throng Lov'd the soft Music of his charming Tongue. Who thus begun. Immortal Potentates, Illustrious Princes, high Seraphic States! T' uphold this ancient Monarchy, a Zeal Greater than mine no Seraph can reveal. None to Obedience more Reluctance show, Or greater Hate to our Allmighty Foe. None more t' enlarge our Empire can desire, None feel more sensibly this painful Fire. Who more delights in a Terrestrial Seat, That from our Torment yields a mild restreat? Scorcht with corroding flame no Seraph loves More to frequent our cool refreshing Groves. Who's pleas'd with Incense more and od'rous Gums, Or the sweet Steams of burning Hecatombs? Therefore no likely means I would neglect To save our Altars, and our Priests protect. Arthur a**isted with Celestial Aids Our Empire with resistless course invades. He his bold Cohorts round Lutetia pouers, And threatens with his Arms her lofty Towers. A Guard of Seraphs round his Army stands, Celestial Sabres flaming in their hands. Now valiant Belus wondrous Courage shows, Off'ring in Arms t'a**ault our potent Foes. I'm not for Arms by long experience taught; What have we gain'd by all our Battles fought? In Heavenly plains fir'd with a noble rage Our Troops did all the Allmighty's Host engage. Of which brave Deed what Seraph can Repent; But when our Strength and all our Arms were spent, You all remember Michael's dreadful Sword, What fiery Darts we felt, what Thunder roar'd. As drunk with wrath divine our Army reel'd, And with Celestial Spoils o'erspread the Field, Seraph on Seraph heap'd, and Shield on Shield. Then did the Chariots which our Troops did chase, O'er faln Arch Angels Necks, and grov'ling Cherubs pa**! Ignoble Rout deform'd th' Etherial Plain, When wounded Seraphs first had sense of Pain. Close on the Reer th' insulting Conq'rors hung, And with the pointed Lightnings which they flung. With ma**y Bolts and Darts of poison'd Steel, From which our Limbs did raging Anguish feel, Cross the steep Gulph they chas'd us till we fell To scape those Torments, down to these of Hell. This Fire, these Shades are all our Arms have won, The sad Reward that do's our labour crown. This Language is not to reproach our Flight, For who can stand against Eternal Might? But to diswade you from unequal Fight. Since first this famous War broke out in Heav'n, Since our fierce Troops from those mild seats were driv'n, We've oft with all our force the Foe a**ail'd, With wond'rous Brav'ry, yet we ne'er prevail'd; But Art has prosper'd, where our Arms have fail'd. We the Terrestrial World by Art did gain, And must by Art our Conquest still maintain. Well laid Temptations and enticing Charms, Which propagate our Guilt, are our successful Arms. Here lys our Strength, by these we must support The Power and Greatness of th' Infernal Court. We with our Heavn'ly Foes engage in vain, For those who know no Guilt, can feel no pain. Invulnerable they no hurt receive, Nor can they feel deep wounds, like those they give. But we can suffer, we can Torment feel, From wounds Inflicted by their glitt'ring steel. Our penetrable Plate and brittle Shield, Will to their keen Etherial Weapons yield. In these strange Flames by sk** divine prepar'd, Our Mould grows tender, as our hearts grow hard. Such disadvantage justly may perswade, No more with force their Armys to invade. Let us known Arts and try'd Temptations use, That may from Heav'n the Britons Minds seduce. If our Enticements take, we gain our Cause, For Heav'n from Rebels strait its Aid withdraws. Then you may Chase the Briton to his Isle, And spread Lutetia's Fields with Christian Spoil. Then Milcom rose full of Revenge and Scorn A ghastly, meagre Fiend with Envy worn; His pale, lean Cheeks his restless Mind exprest; And Spite and Spleen his hollow Eyes possest. His wrinkled Forehead, sowr and sullen Brow Did deadly Hate, and deep Resentment show. He Seeds of Strife and sharp Contention sow'd, And call'd his Private Quarrel, Publick Good. With execrable Words and desperate Speech Th' Apostate still th' Allmighty did impeach. No ruin'd Angel so audacious seem'd, Or with so black a Tongue his God blasphem'd. Ev'n when in Heav'n blest with his Maker's Smile, The mocking Spirit would his Lord revile. Cast down from Heav'n he rav'd and curst the Blest Who still their Thrones and Innocence possest: Above the rest he show'd his Discontent, And more impatient seem'd of Punishment. None yet was found thro' all the Courts of Hell So Enterprizing, more Implacable. None of th' Apostate Host would sooner joyn To carry on a bold and black Design. And thus he spoke. Lords of Celestial Race, Let not our Fears Seraphic Might disgrace. I'll to th' Allmighty ne'er be reconcil'd, Who of our Thrones our Birthright, us despoil'd; And in Exchange has made Arch-Angels take A low black Prison and a fiery Lake. I'd be reveng'd for this unrighteous Deed, And still attack him tho' I ne'er succeed. Whate'er, Seraphic Heros, be your Fate, Appear true Patriots of th' Infernal State. I would, as generous Belus do's propose With Arms and Force invade our Godly Foes. I would, tho' they our Arms should still defeat, The noble War eternally repeat. I would alarm, a**ault, molest, annoy And still disturb the Foe, I can't destroy: For this an endless Pleasure would create, And with Revenge sooth our Immortal Hate. Why should we fly to Frauds, will Frauds obtain A Conquest which by Power we cannot gain? Do's not th' Eternal Foe as much excel In Wisdom, as in Strength the Peers of Hell? Will not his Circumspection undermine What you believe a deep and wise Design? Some have 'tis true succeeded by their Fraud, But I th' Ignoble Way could ne'er applaud. Let us, as Belus urg'd for Arms declare, Our Forces Muster, and denounce the War. Our eager Troops will cheerfully obey; I'd be reveng'd, and War's the quickest way. I long the pious Squadrons to engage ---- More had he said, but wild and mad with Rage He to th' Assembly could no longer speek, But his Discourse did here abruptly break. Then Ammon rose a Prince of high Renown, Awful in Flames, and haughty tho' undone. On his grave Brow deep Mysterys of State Prudence, Advice, and Contemplation sate. No Minister of all the Stygian Court Declining Empires better could support. The State of Hell's affairs none better knew, None did their Int'rest with more Zeal pursue. Important Looks and solemn Air confest Labour and vast Concern within his Breast. The Fate of Kingdoms seem'd his anxious Care, Ruptures of Peace, and high Designs of War. He seem'd engag'd in searching proper ways To prop old Monarchys, or new ones raise. When he began, all great attention paid, And silent sate and husht, as midnight shade. Then thus he spake. Spirits of Race divine What Belus offer'd, tho' a brave Design, Suits not with Rimmon's Judgment, nor with mine. Should we by gen'ral Vote for Arms declare And Heav'n once more invade with open War, If we the Conqu'rour should again incense, What can we hope from arm'd Omnipotence, But greater Wrath, and Torments more intense? Can't he fresh Treasures open that contain Yet fiercer Vengeance, more destructive pain? His secret stores yet deadlier Light'nings yield, More ma**y Bolts his vengeful Arm can weild. In his high Arsenals will yet be found Much keener Arms, and Darts that deeper wound; Where he preserves his chosen Torments wrought With greater Labour, greater Sk** and Thought. Where Swords of hardest Heav'nly Metal made, And Shafts in strongest Fury dipt are laid. Cannot th' Almighty Conquerour if he please, From Hell's deep Vaults more dreadful Plagues release, And with new Racks our Tort'ring pains increase? Can't he these fiery Mountains on us turn, Enrage our flames, and make them fiercer burn? Or may we not in Hills of Ice immur'd, Feel sharper Cold, than e'er we yet endur'd? May not his hand bar fast the Gates of Hell, Confine us to Despair, and make us dwell Close Pris'ners chain'd in these Sulphureous Caves, Or overwhelm us with these boiling Waves; That we no more may our sad hours beguile, In the soft Air of the Terrestrial Isle: Nor our fry'd Limbs repose by shady Trees, Nor fan our Burnings with a gentle Breeze. Our open force must meet this dismal end, And these sad Triumphs must our Arms attend. But of Lutetia why should we despair, And of our Franks so much renown'd in War? Great Clotar do's in Wiles and Arts excel, That scarce inferiour are to those of Hell, By Force or Fraud the Briton he'll repel. A numerous Army he together draws, Resolv'd t' a**ert ours, and the Gallic Cause. But grant that high Lutetia should submit, And the proud Conqu'ror on her Throne should sit. Grant all the Towns and Provinces of Gaul Should yield, and follow great Lutetia's fall: Must all our other Votarys Rebel, And take up Arms against the Power of Hell? Mankind Obedience hate, as well as we, In Guile and Temper we so much agree, A great Defection from us cannot be. Rome ever faithful to our Cause appear'd, To us by constant Services endear'd. Her strong Affection all her Deeds proclaim; Her Aims and Interests are with ours the same. Besides, Iberia is a faithful Friend, And will her Troops to our Assistance send. But what if all th' European Realms were gone, Asia may still her fixt Obedience own. There we with Incense may our Nostrils cloy And all the pleasures of the East enjoy. There we may sport in mild, indulgent Beams, And cool our Sores in sweet refreshing Streams. There we may wander o'er a flowry Land, And see in Spicy Groves our Altars stand. Then add to this that our Imperial Sway The Black and Tawny Nations all obey; Who lie extended o'er the spacious Soil From famous Memphis to the head of Nile. From th' Ethiopean Region to the Shore On which th' Atlantic Ocean's Billows roar; And from the Northern to the Southern Moor. Besides a Western World is still our own, Where Arthur and his God are yet unknown. This undiscover'd Soil, this Golden Coast Serves as a Refuge to receive our Host, Were all the Eastern World to Arthur lost. These are the Reasons which with me prevail, Not with our Arms the Briton to Assail. I would from Hell the Fury discord send, That her swift flight might to Britannia bend. Since Arthur's absent, she may soon embroil The wav'ring State, and trouble all the Isle. She midst the Britons may Dissention sow, And into noble flames may quickly blow The Seeds of Strife that in their Bosoms glow. She'll all the Fuel find she can require To feed and entertain her raging fire. Arthur who chas'd us from the British Coast, And to pursue us has the Ocean crost, Quitting his high Design, must then be gone, And leave this Kingdom to Secure his own. He said. The Synod gave a loud Applause, And with this Counsel pleas'd, their Monarch rose. Mean time the Gallic Monarch took th' alarm, And gave Command for all his Men to Arm. Resolv'd to stop th' Invading Briton's rage, And in the Field his Army to engage. Lutetia first the Cry of Arms began, Which soon thro' Clotar's wide Dominions ran. The zealous Leaders did their Troops Collect, To form an Host their Kingdom to protect. With wondrous speed they did together draw Their Squadrons, which did distant Citys aw. The Valiant Lords from various Regions came, To save their Country, and to raise their Fame. The Pagan Priests wild with the dismal Fright, With their loud Crys did all to Arms excite; Who for their Altars might their Lives expose, And guard their helpless Gods from Christian Foes. Thro' every Town the Franks in Arms appear'd, In every Street the Voice of War was heard. Loud Clamors, and the Soldiers mingled Crys Shook all the Azure Arches of the Skys. Some on their Coursers mounted did advance, Arm'd with a Shield, a Sword, and glitt'ring Launce, Some came on Foot and for their Arms did bear A dreadful Halbert, and a Ma**y Spear. They came from every Soil and every Town Which did the haughty Franks Dominion own. Round high Lutetia's Walls to stop the Foe Their Confluent Troops did in a Deluge flow. All were compleatly arm'd, and here my Verse The Names of those fam'd Heros shall rehearse, Who had in Clotar's Army high Command, And the great Briton's Triumphs did withstand: It shall the warlike Nations too relate, Who joyn'd their Arms to Guard the Gallic State. Gaston for Conduct Strength and Martial Flame Among the Franks acquir'd the greatest Name. Clotar this mighty Man his General made, And next to him, he was by all obey'd. Villa was next in Dignity and Power, Prais'd as a Chief, but as a Courtier more. A gaudy General glorious to behold, Adorn'd with splendid Arms, and smear'd with Gold. Arbel was of his ancient noble Blood, Of his Successes, and high Station proud: Vast was his Bulk, prodigious was his Strength, Pondrous his Spear, and of amazing length. The Franks did next Prince Ansel most admire Both for his Manly Wit, and Martial Fire. Whose Praises Clotar did with Envy hear, And thought his Name was to the Gauls too dear. Great Oromel of Princely Parents born, Whose Deeds his Line and Country did adorn, Came with his Troops from the high Mountain's side Which do's Iberia from the Gaul divide. Bofar, to Honour by his Valour rais'd, Heard his great Deeds by all Lutetia prais'd: Cruel and Proud, but Vigilant and Brave, Who that his Wealth and Honour he might save, Aided his Prince his Country to enslave. Moloc was next, a Captain fierce and bold, Known for his Thirst of Blood, and Love of Gold. This Man was one who with his Sword pursu'd The Christians, and his hands in Blood embrued. Some he destroy'd with ling'ring Torments, some To shun his barb'rous Outrage left their home; And thro' the Woods and Hills did naked roam. Olcanor, fam'd for Wealth and Courage, led His valiant Troops from Silver Liger's head. Ruthen a Chief, tho' by his Prince esteem'd By Christian Franks and Pagans too condemn'd, Was a fierce Minister of Clotar's Will, Employ'd to Burn, to Ravage, Spoil and k**. Miran, a Prince eager of Martial Fame, Sprang from a Vig'rous, but forbidden Flame; Mantana was his beauteous Mother's Name. He the bold Youth of Francia's Island led, All Valiant Troops, to Arms and Labour bred. They left the Land with beauteous Citys stor'd, Which once obey'd their Bellovasian Lord. The bold Senones came, whose Castles stood Between Icauna's and Sequana's Flood. The Catalaunian who Matrona drank, And the Mandubian from swift Arar's Bank. They left Augustodunum, and the Field Which once the Vadica**ian Farmer till'd. The Lemovician from Vagenna's Stream, And the Velaunian Youth together came. The bold Burgundian Leaders from the Banks, Of Alduabis brought their Warlike Franks: Where nobler Vineyards crown the fertile Field, Then Thuscan Hills, or thine, Iberia, yield. They left the Towns that thro' the Region lay, Which the Vogesian Hills around survey. They came from Dola and the fruitful Land, Which Arborosa's Towers did then Command. And where Lugdunum's lofty Castles rise, Whose gilded Battlements invade the Skys. The Helvian and Rutenian hardy Troops Came from sublime Gebenna's aiery Tops: Both Warlike Nations who did far surpa** In Martial Glory all the Gallic Race. Arausio sent her valiant Troops, a Town Which then the Gauls did with their Praises crown. But since it grew a more Illustrious Place, Rul'd by the mild, Na**ovian Godlike Race. Whose great and glorious Deeds have rais'd her name, Above the Citys of the highest fame. Great Huban from the Coast which with its Waves The Aquitanian rolling Ocean laves; And from the Towers along Garumna's Banks, Brought to King Clotar's Aid his valiant Ranks: Unnumber'd Squadrons fill'd the Gallic Host, Which left the Citys on the Southern Coast, Which from Boiatum to Nicæa lay, And various Lords and Leaders did obey: For so far Clotar o'er the Gallic Land, Had by his Arms extended his Command. The numerous Nations which the Lands did own, Between Garumna and the rapid Rhone; Where high Tolosa and Carca**um stand, And where rich Tarnis rolls her Golden Sand. The Youth from Alba and Nemaussus came, Where numerous Martyrs dy'd by Sword and Flame. For tho' with Christians Gallia did abound, Yet they were chiefly in the Cities found, Which o'er the fair and fertile Region lay Between Gebenna and the Midland Sea. Between the Alpine Mountains on the East, And th' Aquitanian Ocean on the West. These Clotar with inexorable Hate Strove to Extirpate from the Gallic State. Ruffians, Tormentors, black Assa**ins sent By his Command all Methods did invent, By which the Pious Race might be destroy'd, And Hell's and Clotar's Malice might be cloy'd. The dreadful Marks of Persecuting Rage, Frequent appear'd o'er all this horrid Stage. O'er all the Fields unbury'd Bones were spread, And bloody Torments dy'd their Rivers Red. Here Salvage Moloc, and fierce Ruthen strove, Whose Cruelty should greatest wonder move, And who should most engage their Monarch's Love. The various Nations came who did reside On Rhodan*s and swift Isara's tyde. They left the Region near the Alpine Snows, Where old Brigantium stood, and where Druentia flows. They left the Citys on the Shores that stay The rolling Waves of the Ligustic Sea. Stuffa a mighty Allobrogian Lord Fam'd for his Stature and prodigious Sword, The Fierce Helvetian Cohorts did Command, Which Clotar's Gold brought from their Native Land. One part the Urbigenian Lords obey'd, And Till'd the Soil by Jura's Pekes survey'd. Some did Bromagus and the Towns forsake Which lay, Lausanna, on thy spacious Lake. They left the Mountains where the melted Snow Do's down the Sides in unform'd Channels flow, And when beneath their Confluent Streams combine, They form the Rhone, the Danaw, and the Rhine. Their Mercenary Citys ever Sold Their Youth to k**, and to be k**'d for Gold. They Fought for him who best their Country fed, And did not Fame and Glory seek, but Bread. These Nations all were Vigorous, Strong and Bold, Patient of Labour, Hunger, Heat and Cold. Clotar this Valiant People much Carest, And by their Arms the Neighb'ring States Opprest. These foremost in his Battles always fought, He his Chief Conquests by their Courage got. These mighty Leaders did for Armour wear The Skins of Beasts slain by their fatal Spear. Some march'd before their Troops in dreadful Pride, Arm'd with a ravening Lyon's grisly Hide. The Shaggy Back was o'er their Shoulders spread With formidable grace, and on their Head The Tawny Terror grinn'd with open Jaws, And cross their Breasts were lap'd the hideous Paws: The Teeth and Savage Beard the Hero's Face Did with becoming Martial Horror grace. Some did the Wolf, and some the Tyger wear, The Spotted Leopard some, and some the Bear. Some a vast Stag, some a wild Bull adorns With his Curl'd Forehead and his goring Horns. Their Shields with dreadful Figures were embost, And Belts of Hyde their Spacious Shoulders Crost. The Warriours for Offensive Arms, did bear, A ma**y Sword, and vast enormous Spear, These were the Warlike Nations, these the Lords, Heros, and mighty Chiefs who drew their Swords In Clotar's Cause, and made the last Effort, Lutetia's Power and Greatness to support.