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

These things befel the King since Gallia's Soil He left to calm Brittannia's troubled Isle. Mean time in Gallia when their Monarch found Himself recover'd from his painful Wound, He with his greatest Lords in Council sate About the Means to save the Gallic State. Then thus the haughty Prince his Chiefs bespoke, Our Foes who would on Gaul impose their Yoke, Are now expos'd to your avenging stroke. Arthur's withdrawn Britannia to compose, From whom his Army's Confidence arose. His Courage, Conduct, Military Fame Kindled within their Breasts a Martial Flame. His Presence made them obstinate in Fight, Eager of Conquest, and asham'd of Flight. But since the Soul that mov'd their Troops is gone, Leaving this Kingdom to secure his own, Let us employ this favourable Hour To free our Country from the British Power. Let us advance our Ensigns valiant Franks T'attack the Foe encamp'd on Esia's Banks. We shall a weak desponding Host a**ail, And of a glorious Conquest cannot fail. He ceas'd, and all his Captains did reveal To storm the British Camp a cheerful Zeal. Forthwith their Monarch's orders to pursue The Generals rose and to their Posts withdrew. Soon as Aurora with her Rosy Light Had streak'd the gloomy Bosom of the Night; The Monarch rose and Eager of the War For bloody Labour did himself prepare. His Armour and his Arms his Servants brought All temper'd Plate by famous Masters wrought. His ample Shield was all of Burnish'd Gold, Dreadful indeed, but Glorious to behold. He lac'd his dazling Helm around his Head, Which thro' the Air did keen Reflection spread. His ma**y Sword he girded to his Wast, And his strong Thighs in beaten Gold encas'd. His Breast and Back in noble Armour shone In Battle by excessive Splendor known. Then in his hand two pondrous Spears he took, And round him cast a Stern and Haughty Look. On to the Field he led his Warlike Franks And drew forth on the Plain th' embattled Ranks. The Steeds with raging Hoofs the ground did tear, And Chariots with their Thunder fill'd the Air. The Troops advancing o'er the Hills did Choak The Concave of the Sky with Dust and Smoke. Thro' which their Armours glancing Lustre show'd, Like radiant Sunbeams breaking thro' a Cloud. The deep Brigades compos'd an endless Throng, And with an awful Slowness march'd along. Drawn out in Order they display'd from far The sullen Pomp, and the rough Looks of War. As when short Days and cold Autumnal Air To some new Seat warn Swallows to repair, The chatt'ring Race do's round their Leaders fly, And at their Summons rendezvous on high, And with their Numbers darken all the Sky. So thick the Franks did on their March appear So black and wide their Front, so long their Rear. Mean time the Scouts and Outguards did alarm The British Youth, and made the Captains arm. Who did, as order'd, in their Camp remain, Not to attack the Foe, but to sustain. Wise Solmar plaid a wary Gen'ral's Part Guarding the Camp by all the Rules of Art. He in Battalia rang'd his valiant Host And did his Squadrons, as a Master, post, Where no Advantage of the Ground was lost. No prudent Measures did the Chief neglect Their Lines against th' Invader to protect. The chearful Captains to their Charge repair, Each takes his Post, and waits th' advancing War. The British Youth in Arms the Franks attend Bravely resolv'd each other to defend. Solmar within the Army's Center stands, As most convenient to dispence Commands. The left Wing Talmar did as Gen'ral sway, The right the valiant Clovis did obey. Now at a distance did the marching Foes Their numerous Army's Warlike Front disclose. Bright Jav'lins, Sabres, brazen Backs, and Breasts, Gauntlets, contiguous Helmets, burnish'd Crests, Long glitt'ring Spears, broad Fauchions, temper'd Shie Spread with illustrious Horror all the Fields. In his bright Arms King Clotar did advance Before his Troops, and shook his threat'ning Lance. The haughty Warriour strait began the Fight And furiously attack'd the Briton's Right. With mighty Clamour and insulting Shouts The Gallic Squadrons storm th' advanc'd Redoubts. The noble Clovis all their Force sustains, Unmov'd, undaunted he his Ground maintains. Fearless of d**h he on the Rampart stands Dispensing to his Troops sedate Commands. Projected Stones in Rocky Tempests fly, And Showers of Arrows fill the troubled Sky. Their brawny Arms destructive Javelins throw, And glitt'ring Darts on deadly Errands go. Some to oblige the Britons to retire Hurl on them smoking Brands, and Storms of Fire. The Briton stands the flaming Charge, and pours Down in Exchange vast Stones in craggy Showers. Which with the slaughter'd Heaps the Trenches fill, And the bold Foe at once entomb and k**. A leafless Wood of tall erected Spears, O'erspreading all the spacious Field appears, As thick and close, as the young tender Trees Shoot up their Heads in thriving Nurserys. Undaunted they the lofty Bulwarks scale, And with their Sword in Hand the Foe a**ail. But by the valiant Britons beaten back With mighty Slaughter they forsook th' Attack. Then with fresh Force the Britons to invade Valiant Olcanor brought his bold Brigade. All valiant Men inur'd to Arms and Blood, Bred on the Banks of Liger's Silver Flood. The mighty Chief mounts up, and on the Lines Waving his Sword in noble Armour shines. Rollo advanc'd to beat him from his Post, And to regain the Ground their Men had lost: But with his utmost Force his furious Foe On his bright Crest dealt such a dreadful Blow, That Rollo stagg'ring in a dizzy Swoon Fell down upon his Knees, and prest the Ground: He lean'd upon his Buckler with his Hand, Yet scarcely so his swimming Head sustain'd. Then brandishing his Fauchion in the Air The fatal Stroke the Conq'rour did prepare: When mighty Oloron the Neustrian Chief All fir'd with Rage flew to his Friend's Relief. He interpos'd his generous Arms, and took Upon his ringing Shield the falling Stroke. The Neustrian Lord ran in, and round his Wast With his strong Arms he hugg'd and grip'd him fast: Then from the Ground he rais'd the Warriour up, And hurl'd him headlong from the Rampart's Top. Off from the high rais'd Works the mighty Gaul Fell down, and shook the Vally with his Fall. So vast Enceladus, as Poets tell, Gigantic Ruin, from the Mountains fell By which he seal'd th' Imperial Seat of Jove, Struck down by vengeful Thunder from above. Brave Miran next warm with his Youthful Flame Up to the Charge with his Battalion's came. To mount the Lines he straitway gave Command, But would himself be foremost of the Band. Vebba observing brought a mighty Stone And from the high Entrenchment roll'd it down, It took the noble Warriour in his Way, And both within the Trenches buried lay. Rosan advanc'd, Romulian's learned Son, Who midst the Bards had many Laurels won, And now to martial Glory did aspire; He climb'd the Works urg'd with a noble Fire: With his right Hand he did his Fauchion weild, And with his left he held his spacious Shield. Up to the high Entrenchment's brow he rose, Amidst the thickest Darts, and thickest Foes. He with his Spear Radan and Tabal slew, And down the Works Lanvallo headlong threw. Coril the valiant Durotrigian Knight Bravely advanc'd, and undertook the Fight. The undaunted Frank stept forth to meet the Foe, And aiming at his Breast a mortal Blow, To give his Javelin Force stretcht every Vein, Did all his Nerves, and brawny Muscles strain. The Briton's Shield receiv'd th' impetuous Stroke Which in the second Fold its Fury broke. Then with a mighty Force the Briton cast His ma**y Spear, which thro' the Buckler past, And pierc'd the Frank between the Hip and Wast. Down to the Ground he came, and endless Night Swam o'er his Eyes, and choak'd their vital Light. Then to the Charge renown'd Olando flew, Which mounting up Capellan's Javelin slew. With such a Vigor was the Weapon thrown, It pierc'd his Buckler crash'd his Collar Bone, And enter'd deep within the Warriour's Chest, Who fell with all the Pangs of d**h opprest, And rolling down from the high Ramparts Brow Increast the Dead, that lay in Heaps below. Now ghastly Ruin and Destruction reign, And scatter'd Spoils o'erspread the bloody Plain. The Noise of raging Cohorts, horrid Crys, And Groans of dying Men afflict the Skys. O'er Shields and Helms down the steep Rampart flow'd Torrents, and Crimson Cataracts of Blood That fill'd the Trenches with a dismal Flood. In vain the Franks their fierce Assault repeat, Vanquish'd with mighty Loss they still retreat. King Clotar's Soul was gaul'd, and all on fire To see his Legions from th' Attack retire. He flew along the Lines to take a View Where he th' Assault might with Success renew. That done he drew his Forces from the Right, And on the Left began a second Fight. Now did the King his fresh Battalions pour Upon the Place he judg'd the least secure. Great Oromel did at his Lords Command, Lead on the Troops his Sabre in his Hand. Thick Clouds of glitt'ring Darts and Spears they send To break the Troops that did the Lines defend. The Britons to repel th' invading Foe Hurl mighty Stones, and Showers of Javelins throw. Those bravely storm, and these as well defend, And missive Arms in bloody Contest spend. While they with mutual Wounds each other gall, On this and that side mighty Numbers fall. But Oromel shaking his trembling Lance Commands his bold Battalions to advance. He mounted up the Works, and with his Spear His Pa**age thro' the thickest Ranks did clear. Dispensing d**h upon the Lines he stood With Brains bespatter'd, and deform'd with Blood. In vain the Britons did the Frank invade, Who all around him vast Destruction made. Nor glitt'ring Darts, nor Stones, nor Smoke, nor Fire, Could damp the Chief, and force him to retire. His fatal Fauchion first Glendoran felt Fam'd for his Arms, and rich embroider'd Belt. The dreadful Weapon did his Arm divide, And not yet cloy'd went deep into his Side. He fell upon the Ground and endless Night Lay on his Eyes to interrupt the Light. Balandor next a noble Neustrian Lord Felt in his bleeding Veins the Conquerour's Sword. Down on the Neck it fell with horrid Sway, And forc'd quite thro' the sever'd Joynt its Way. Strait Crimson Jets sprang up from every Vein, The gasping Head leap'd off, and bounded on the Plain. Then Ridar, Araban, and many more, Slain by the Frank lay weltring in their Gore. Othar mean while his furious Javelin threw Which aim'd at Milo on its Message flew. It pa**'d his Buckler, and the painful Point Wounded his Knee, and enter'd far the Joynt. Back to the Rear off from the fierce Attack, Strong Sebul bore him on his brawny Back. Then Asdran cast his Dart with wondrous Force, The glitt'ring d**h with an impetuous Course Against young Trebor's Helmet flew direct, Which now no longer could his Head protect: The Dart his ample Forehead struck, and full Between his thick-black Eyebrows pierc'd his Skull. It reach'd the inmost Marrow of the Brain Where we perceive our Pleasures, and our Pain. There where the Soul upon her Throne abides, And from our Sight conceal'd her Empire guides: Do's various Orders various Tasks dispence, To all th' inferiour Ministers of Sence. Now suddain d**h do's her high Seat invade, And spreads the Courts of Life with horrid Shade. A fatal Dart which strong Odallon cast, Pierc'd Modar's Shield and thro' his Temples past: Extended on the Ground the Hero lay, His Eyeballs struggling with departing Day. A ma**y Spear which Orbal's Arm convey'd, Past half its Length thro' Kirton's Shoulder Blade, And on the Dust th' expiring Captain laid. A pondrous Stone crush'd Cadel's brawny Thigh, Which made the Chief in raging Anguish ly; But then a second struck him in the Breast, And of its painful Prison Life releast. When noble Talmar saw what Numbers fell, By the Victorious Sword of Oromel; And how his wavering Friends began to yield Prest by the furious Frank, the bloody Field: Up to the Charge he came resolv'd to chase Th' Invader back, or dy upon the Place. Against the Frank his ma**y Spear he hurl'd, Which had dispatch'd him to th' infernal World, Had it not glancing from his Buckler flew, And by an erring Wound Somellan slew. Then Oromel advancing to the Fight, Threw his long Weapon with prodigious Might. Th' impetuous Spear cut swiftly thro' the Sky, And thro' his Buckler raz'd the Briton's Thigh. A Purple Stream spun from the painful Wound, And striving thro' his Armour stain'd the Ground. Talmar enrag'd both with the Shame and Smart, Cast at th' insulting Foe his second Dart. A prosp'rous Flight the vengeful Weapon took, The Buckler pierc'd, and thro' the Cuita** broke: Thro' the left Side it made its Way between The Border of the Midriff and the Spleen. The Warriour fainting with the fatal Wound, Dropt his bright Arms, and fell upon the Ground. Cold d**h congeal'd his Blood within his Veins, And clos'd his Eyes, with everlasting Chains. Then did the Conq'rour with his Arms attack The thickest Foes, and forc'd their Legions back. Across the Lines he did his Troops pursue, And as they fled prodigious Numbers slew. The thin Remains forsook th' unequal Fight, And sav'd themselves by ignominious Flight. As when loud Western Winds arrive from far Upon Batavia's Coast to levy War: The roaring Sea draws down its threatning Troops, To storm the Frontier, which its Progress stops. The foaming Files, and all the watry Ranks Rush on to Battle, and insult the Banks. But they contend to force their Way in vain, The Digues unshaken all their Force sustain. The wearied Sea murmurs at these Defeats, Draws off its broken Billows, and retreats. Soon as King Clotar saw his Men retir'd, With Rage, and Shame, and Indignation fir'd, He drew up fresh Brigades against the Right, Resolv'd to try his Fate again in Fight. Advance your Ensigns to the Franks he cry'd, And show your Valour oft in Battel try'd. For Gallia's Glory often you have fought, And from the Field triumphant Laurels brought. Now to protect her Towns and Altars show Your fearless Arms, and here invade the Foe. Here let us force their Lines, and make our Way, When well resolv'd no Works your Course can stay. Then lifting high his Shield to guard his Head, He up the Lines his furious Cohorts led. With double Rage they did the Works invade, And with loud Shouts a vig'rous Onset made. By various Ways th' undaunted Briton strove The Foe that press'd so boldly to remove. Some Spears, some Darts, some iron Wedges threw, Here flaming Firebrands, here bright Javelins flew And here vast Stones the fierce Invader slew. Here to oppress their Sight hot Embers fell, Here Pots with horrid Stench annoy'd their Smell. Great Numbers perish'd in the bold Attack, Such stout Resistance did the Britons make. Ormansel by a craggy Stone was slain, Which from his broken Skull dash'd out his Brain. Bortran a Chief brave and expert in Fight, By a projected Firebrand lost his Sight. An iron Wedge struck strong Raymundo dead, Beating his Helmet deep into his Head. Valiant Mansellan cast his furious Dart, Which thro' stout Thedon's Shield transfixt his Heart. Blood, Brains, and Limbs did the high Lines distain, And all around lay squallid Heaps of slain. The dreadful Roar did all the Region scare Which issu'd from the brazen Throat of War. Horrid Confusion, lamentable Moans, Clashing of Arms and dying Warriours Groans, Amazing Clamours, and th' insulting Threats Of raging Captains vex'd th' Etherial Seats. Long did the British Youth their Works maintain, And bravely did the fierce Assault sustain. Till worn with Toyl, and prest with numerous Troops, Still fresh pour'd on, they left the Ramparts Tops. King Clotar on the Works his Standard plac'd, O'er which his throng'd Battalions raging pa**'d. They forc'd the Camp, and like a conq'ring Flood Pa**'d o'er the Banks, that long their Force withstood. Clotar insulting at his Armys Head, On to the Foe his eager Squadrons led. Mean time brave Clovis midst the Britons flew, And urg'd the Youth the Battle to renew. With Shame and Fury mingled in his Eyes To the desponding Troops aloud he crys. What mean, my Friends, their Country to defame, And sink the Glory of the British Name? Will you forget your Conquests? will you throw Your Wreaths and spreading Laurels from your Brow? Shall we be vanquish'd by a vanquish'd Foe? Can Arthur's Souldiers fear? were Arthur by Would you forsake your Monarch? would you fly? Unthoughtful Troops, say, Whither would you run, You fly to Danger, and your Safety shun. You cannot reach your Ships to pa** the Main, You must disperse, and be as Straglers Slain. Come fly from Danger and the Fight renew, You can't be safe unless you Conquer too. He said, and strait urg'd with impetuous Rage The Chief advanc'd th' Invaders to engage. Upon the thickest Files the Warriour fell, Resolv'd to dy, or Clotar to repel. Alfonso who his progress first withstood Fell wounded down, and welter'd in his Blood. Within his Side he felt the fatal Dart Between his Ribs an Inch beneath his Heart. Another Spear was at great Boson thrown Which pierc'd his Hip, and stuck within the Bone. The Frank roar'd out, and tugging at the Spear In grievous Anguish halted to the Rear. Another Weapon did at Damon fly, Which enter'd deep the Hollow of the Thigh; Wriggling and wrything in tormenting Pain He strove to draw the Weapon out in vain. From his wide Wound a reeking River flow'd, And all the Field around lay bath' d in blood. Feeble and fainting with the Vast Expence, The Warriour fell bereft of Life and Sense. Hemar and Dival by his Arms were Slain, And many more lay gasping on the Plain. The British Troops who had before retir'd, Return'd to Battle by this Chief inspir'd. Mean time Wise Solmar did with anxious Care Watch all the Turns and Chances of the War. And when he saw the Franks had forc'd the Line, And that the Britons did the Fight decline. Inglorious Rout and Ruin to prevent He fresh Recruits from the Main Battle sent, Which might the British wavering Troops sustain, Repel the Franks and still the Fight maintain. Then to inspire his Men to keep their Post, And strike a terror thro' the Gallic Host, He noble Osor from the Camp detach'd, And with the Chief a thousand Horse dispatch'd And to their faithful Leader gave Command To wheel about, and take the Hilly Land Which on the Right hand of the Camp arose, And then to March direct upon the Foes. Then valiant Osor did without delay Wheel from the Rear his orders to obey. And in his March he took a Compa** round, That undiscern'd he might possess the Ground. Now had brave Clovis with his fatal Blade Amidst the Squadrons great Destruction made. Boldly he stood to stem th' o'erflowing Tide, Encompa**'d round with Spoils on every Side. The Franks enrag'd still fresh Battalions brought; And prest with whole Brigades the Warriour fought. He lopt strong Clomire's Arm off at a blow, And cleft the bold Orbazel's Head in two. Ellan who in his Strength repos'd his trust, And Gramol in his Armour prest the Dust. Nor did Roballon better Fortune meet, Who lay expiring at the Conqueror's feet. Then at fierce Maurel's head he aim'd his Stroke, But on the temper'd Shield his Fauchion broke. The Franks who stood at distance round about, Ran in to seize him with a mighty shout. The Pious Warriour was their Captive made, And bound in Fetters to their Camp convey'd. Brave Trelon to prevent great Clovis Fate Brought up his Valiant Troops but came too late. Clotar mean time did Erla's Troops invade, And thro' the Files a mighty Havock made. The British Chief did wondrous Courage show, But strove in vain to stop th' unequal Foe. Young Harrel felt the Conqu'rours Weapon first, And groaning lay, and grov'ling in the Dust. Torman advanc'd the Monarch to sustain But at his feet fell Dead upon the Plain. He next his ma**y Spear at Corbel cast, Thro' all the Buckler's fold's the Weapon past, And thro' his tender Entrails pa**age found, The Cawl came forth, and hung down from the Wound. Down on the ground he fell, and gasping lay, While d**h excluded from his Eyes the Day. Next Pricel's Arm receiv'd the Javelin's point Between the Elbow and the Shoulder Joynt: The fatal Steel did the large Vein divide, And from its Chanel sprang th' Arterial Tide. Subsiding Life Ebb'd down apace, and left The Youth of Motion and of Sense bereft. Then at Hermander did his Jav'lin fly, Which pierc'd his Buckler's Plate and Bullhide Ply Then thro' his breast and breathing Lungs it went, And sticking in his Back it's Fury spent. Hermander Cough'd up from his Wheezing Chest Fresh Frothy Blood, but strangled and Opprest He fell upon the Ground and ratling lay, Stretch'd out his Limbs, and groan'd his Life away. Coman applauded for his Youthful Charms, From all distinguish'd by his Painted Arms, And his rich Scarlet Scarf, by luckless chance Stood the next mark of Clotar's fatal Lance. So the fair Lilly and the Poppy stand A gaudy Harvest for the Mower's hand. Strait at his Breast the Monarch's Weapon flew, First pierc'd his Shield, and then his Body thro'. Th' expiring Youth fetch'd deep repeated Throbs, And of his hopes his mournful Father robs. Then Eldred, Ribal, and Comander dy'd, All these were Brothers by the Mother's Side. All from the Mountains of Brechinia came To win in Gallic Fields immortal Fame. Vast numbers of the British Youth lay dead, And with their scatter'd Spoils the Ground o'erspread. When Solmar to relieve his Troops opprest And the fierce Victor's Progress to arrest, Brought the main Battle up to charge the Franks, And bravely did attack their foremost Ranks. Strait thro' the Camp a noble War ensu'd, And martial Rage was in their Breasts renew'd. Now Front to Front the Files each other prest, And Foot to Foot they stood, and Breast to Breast. All on the Ground their missive Weapons threw, And with their Swords to close Engagement flew. Fauchions with Fauchions clash'd, Shields rub'd on Shields, And the loud Din of War rang thro' the Fields. Now Franks prevail, and now the British Host, And both their Arms alternate Conquest boast While undetermin'd Victory did shew Such Doubtfulness, as trembling Needles do, When they between two courting Loadstones stay, To neither yield, yet neither disobey. At last with bloody Toyl the Britons worn, And with unequal Numbers overborn Began to shrink, while Clotar's ravening Sword With undistinguish'd Rage around devour'd: When on the neighb'ring Hill upon the Right The Troops detach'd by Solmar march'd in Sight. Great Osor who the foremost did appear In Stature, Presence, Arms, and martial Air, Of all the Heros of the British Host, The God-like Arthur did resemble most. Then Solmar cry'd aloud, see you your King, Arthur's arriv'd, and do's sure Conquest bring. Loud Shouts of Joy rang thro' the British Camp, And struck thro' Clotar's Troops a shiv'ring Damp. Those rea**ume the War with double Rage, And these but faintly with the Foe engage. Wavering a while they stood, but then gave way, And left th' unfinish'd Triumph of the Day. The Gallic Troops did by their Flight proclaim, How much they fear'd Victorious Arthur's Name. The conq'ring Britons did the Franks pursue, Hung on their Rear, and mighty Numbers slew. Only King Clotar still refus'd to yield, But with his single Arms maintain'd the Field. Solmar advanc'd to charge th' undaunted King, And at his Head did his bright Javelin fling; His blazing Shield the furious Weapon struck Pa**'d the first Fold, but in the second stuck. Then did the Frank project his pondrous Spear Which hiss'd along, and cut the liquid Air. Thro' his right Leg in burnish'd Steel encas'd, Across the brawny part the Weapon past. The Veins that deep for sure Protection lay, The fatal point divided in it's way. Its Springs broke up, out gush'd the leaping Blood, And in his reeking Life the fainting Warriour stood. The British Youth ran in to bring Relief And from the Field bore off the wounded Chief. Albert the first who rush'd in to withstand The furious Frank, fell by his fatal Hand. Bodal and Eldan went undaunted on, To save the General's Life, but lost their own. But when the Monarch saw the Battel lost, Himself alone left to engage an Host, He grew enrag'd, but forc'd at last to yield With bitter Execrations left the Field. So much did Arthur's Name the Battel Sway, And chang'd so soon the Fortune of the Day. Their own great losses and the Evening Shade, From long pursuit the British Youth disswade. For Rest with Joy they to their Tents return, But Clovis Chains and Solmar's Wound they mourn. Solmar in pain had past the restless Night, And when the Sun had spred the Hills with Light, Exhausted with expence of Blood expir'd, Lamented much, and much by all desir'd. Brave Osor next in Power and Honour, sent To call the British Captains to his Tent. Soon hither all the great Commanders came, All high in Office, and of Martial Fame. Th' Assembly made a Sound like that of Waves Roll'd on the Shore, or Winds in hollow Caves. Or that which high Augusta's Merchants make, When in their frequent Burse they Counsel take. What Riches to their Neighbours they shall lend, What British Growth to Foreign Climates send. What Luxury to fetch, what wealthy Stores, Or from the Asian, or the Afric Shores. To which Pole next their numerous Fleets shall run, If to the Rising, or the Setting Sun. The throng'd Assembly straight in Council sate Fit measures for their Safety to debate. Osor arose, and with deliberate words He thus bespoke th' Allys, and British Lords. Twice has the Moon her changing Face renew'd Since we our Monarch's Orders have pursu'd. Expecting his return from Albion's Coast, We with Defensive Arms have kept our Post. And twice seven days are past since certain Fame That Albion was compos'd first hither came. That Arthur was embark'd to cross the Main In Gallic Fields new Laurels to obtain. But when in Prospect of the Neustrian Strand A sudden Tempest beat him off from Land: So those relate who on the Mountains stood, And saw his ships advancing thro' the Flood. Yet still his Ships are on the Ocean tost, Or forc'd on some unhospitable Coast, Else had the King return'd to Neustria's Shore And we had seen our Monarch long before. So long we had not labour'd in Suspence, Nor wanted Arthur's Arms for our Defence. Our heartless Troops impatient grown declare They would return, and leave th' unfinish'd War. Meantime our Leaders Absence makes the Foe More insolent, and bold in Battle grow. Captains advise, what Measure we shall take, Shall we return and Gallia's Realm forsake, Or shall we here entrench'd our Camp defend, And still th' Arrival of our Prince attend. He said, wise Gotrick rose, and to the rest Thus with majestic Air himself exprest. The Stratagem which did the Franks defeat We can no more, illustrious Chiefs, repeat. The Franks who Arthur's Presence then believ'd, By busy Fame will soon be undeceiv'd. Then well we know that no Britannic Lord Is able to withstand King Clotar's Sword. Should he again our high Entrenchments scale, His numerous Squadrons may at last prevail. Our two great Heros lest in chief Command, Who could if any, Clotar's Rage withstand These we, alas, have lost. Great Solmar's slain, Brave Clovis do's in Clotar's Power remain. Thrice happy Man if midst the fighting Bands Thou hast expir'd and scap'd the Tyrant's Hands! These were the Chiefs on whom we did depend As Men whose Arms our Bulwarks would defend. Our weary Troops who did demand before Their native Land do now demand it more. Prest by our hard Affairs we may presume King Arthur's Leave to lead our Squadrons home. The pious Prince our Conduct will approve, Who to his People thus express our Love. He said. When mighty Talmar Silence broke And thus the Lords and valiant Chiefs bespoke. Here did our Pious Monarch bid us stay, And his Command what Chief dares disobey? We must persist our Bulwarks to defend, And Arthur's coming in the Camp attend. Shall we the Honour of our Isle deface, And show our selves a weak, degenerate Race? How will the Neighbour States our Arms despise, And mock our ignominious Cowardize? How will our Countrymen upbraid our Flight, And ask what Monsters did our Youth affright? Our Wives and Children swarming on the Strand Will mock our Fears, and beat us off from Land. How will th' observing World our Conduct blame? How will th' unhappy Christians curse our Name, Whom from their Chains we promis'd to release, When our Retreat their Suff'rings shall encrease? For thus provok'd th' inexorable Foe Will add more Weight, and multiply their Woe What Plagues, what Desolation must o'erwhelm Both the Neustrasian and the Gallic Realm, If we no longer will our Arms engage, But give them up a Prey to Clotar's Rage? Let us prevent their Ruin, and our Shame, Express our Pity, and advance our Fame. Fixt and resolv'd let us our Bulwarks guard, Success at last our Patience will reward. He said. And Trelon thus himself exprest. What Madness Britons has your Minds possest? Will you betray your Monarch's righteous Cause, Defame your Isle, and yet expect Applause? Scar'd with phantastic Terrours will you run, And leave a War with such Success begun? Fear seems a Pa**ion wise and eloquent, But makes the Danger which it would prevent. Let us the Pa**ion own, and not disguise. In Vertue's Shape inglorious Cowardise. For running home what Reasons e'er you bring, Wisdom's the grave Pretence, but Fear's the thing. We still in Gallia may in Safety stay, Defend our Bulwarks, and our Prince obey. Vainly 'tis urg'd the Britons are dismay'd, 'Tis fearful Captains make their Men afraid. Your Courage will confirm your wavering Troops, Inspire new Vigor, and revive their Hopes. Blame not the British Youth who still obey, And boldly follow, when you lead the Way. Then laying on his mighty Sword his Hand, He cry'd, the Man that leads the foremost Band From out the Camp shall by this Fauchion dy, He ne'er shall scape, who first attempts to fly. He said. And straitway Coril thus reply'd, Meer Courage is to Madness near ally'd, A Brutal Rage, which Prudence do's not guide. Cool Sense and Judgment with a noble Fire To make a finish'd Leader must conspire. Some by a wise Retreat have more Renown Than other Captains by a Conquest won. 'Tis blind Perverseness in our Camp to stay, And not to go when Prudence leads the Way. Wisdom is no Defect of Martial Heat When Reason bids, 'tis Manly to retreat. For our Return no Reasons need be us'd Than those which Gotric has before produc'd. I must declare for breaking up, to shun The mighty Risk which staying here we run. And if some Chiefs will this as Fear condemn, We must object their Want of Sense to them. We are not aw'd by Threats, and haughty Words, Nor do we think we wear unequal Swords. He ceas'd. And strait immoderate Heats arose, While chol'rick Chiefs each other did oppose. Some for retreating, some for Stay contend, Some would forsake, and some their Camp defend. When Maca saw the Strife still hotter grew, Fearing the Dangers which might thence ensue, He rose, and thus th' a**embled Chiefs bespoke, Britons; too much each other you provoke. A calm Debate our Contests might decide, But sharp Reproaches more your Minds divide. Your Dangers by your Discords you augment, And bring the Mischiefs which you would prevent. 'Tis prudent then this Contest to adjourn, And when the dawning Morning shall return, Our Heats compos'd with Rest, our Minds sedate, In Council we'll revive this great Debate. He said. And from the most receiv'd Applause, Who cry'd adjourn, and strait the Council rose.