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

Soon as the rising Sun's victorious Light Had Scal'd, and pa**'d the gloomy Mounds of Night. The British Partys who to beat the Road And gain Intelligence were sent abroad, Returning to the Camp did Tydings bring, That as Commanded by the Gallic King His Cavalry advanc'd at distance lay, Off from the Foot, and Arbel did obey. Clotar himself did with the Foot remain, Which lay encamp'd on rich Lutetia's Plain. Then did King Arthur let his Captains know That he the Horse would Lead and Charge the Foe, Commanding that the Foot with utmost speed Should onward march to share the glorious Deed. Great Arthur with Heroic Ardor warm'd His Weapons took and for the Battel Arm'd. Round his strong Legs he made his Pieces fast With Silver Studds, and Golden bu*tons grac'd. Then did he lace his polish'd Helmet on Which with distinguish'd wondrous brightness shone. A noble Plume did his high Crest adorn, Fair as the Morning Star, or as the Morn. A Purple Scarf, like mild Aurora's pride, Enrich'd with Golden Ta**els grac'd his Side. Next, like the Moon at full, his spacious Shield Blaz'd on his Arm and dazled all the Field. As Forges full of melted Oar by night Appear at distance to the Travellers sight, Where brawny Smith besmear'd with Smoke and Sweat. For Ships of War unweildy Anchors beat. So did the Warriour's Burnish'd Buckler glow, And such fierce Light did from the Metal flow. His mighty Fauchion which of all the Field, Two of the strongest Chiefs could scarcely weild, Whose fatal Edge so many Heros felt, Hung down suspended in his glorious Belt. Then his long Spear he took which in his hand When firmly grip'd shook like an Osier wand. As when a Cyclops with his pondrous Sledge On the hard Anvil strikes a flaming Wedge, When he designs the malleable ma** Shall into some Capacious Caldron pa**, The fiery Dust at every blow that flys And glaring Light vex the Spectator's Eyes. The Briton's Arms shone thus excessive bright, Darted keen Glances and uneasy Light, And tho' his Glory pleas'd, it pain'd the Sight. While thus the Monarch Arm'd, his noble Steed Sprung from Britannic mixt with Thracian Breed, Praunc'd in the Negro's hand, and tost around His generous Foam that Whiten'd all the ground. In his hot Mouth he champt the Golden Bit, And paw'd the Vally with his thund'ring Feet. The King advanc'd, and in his Martial Heat Mounting the Steed, and leaping cross the Seat Such was the clanking of his Arms as made, By the surprize his starting Friends affraid. The fiery Beast Impatient of the Rein, Curveted, Bounc'd, and Bounded o'er the Plain. The Eagle scarcely flew so swift and strong, When she to Heav'n, as ancient Poets sung, From Ætna's Caves, and Vulcan's fiery Store Hot Thunderbolts, and vengeful Light'ning bore. Thus the swift Courser past, and thro' the Air Did on his back the glorious Tempest bear. Next Osor General of the British Horse In order follow'd, Arthur's rapid Course. Then Noble Clovis warm with martial Heat Advanc'd his great Atchievements to repeat. Now all the Squadrons from the Camp were pour'd, All bold in Arms and to the Field inur'd. The Trumpet's cheerful Voice the Region fills, Redoubled by the Rocks and ecchoing Hills. The Heav'ns with Arms and war-like noise resound, And fiery Coursers shake the trembling Ground. Thick Clouds of Smoke and Foam around e'm fly, And rising Fogs of Dust obscure the Sky. Soon Albion's Monarch with his speedy Course Came within prospect of King Clotar's Horse. The numerous Squadrons rang'd in Battel stood, And look'd at distance like an Iron Wood. As when a gathering Tempest do's arise With sullen Brow, and slowly mounts the Skys, The Stygian Vapours from their Caves repair To the black Rendezvous amidst the Air. Th' embattled Clouds in gloomy Throngs ascend, And cross the Sky their dreadful Front extend. So thick the Franks appear'd along the Plain, Ready th' invading Briton to sustain. A Grove of Lances o'er the Region spreads, With Bucklers intermixt and burnish'd Heads. As when some famous Master Engineer, Such as great Ricar and Becano are, A Triumph for some Conqueror do's prepare. Bright Rockets, Serpents, Stars of Nitre rise, And mingling Fires Inlighten all the Skys. Proud Pyramids aloft to Heav'n aspire Adorn'd with Wreathing Flames, and Laurels all of Fire. So now the Air shone bright with Helms and Spears, With Corslets, Shields, and plated Cuira**iers. Arbel who ne'er was Conscious yet of fear, Soon as he saw the British Troops appear. Pleas'd with th' important Danger of the day Resolv'd th' advancing Briton's Course to stay; And as a prudent Gen'ral did prepare His numerous Squadrons to receive the War. He rode thro' all the Regiments and Ranks To animate and cheer th' Embattled Franks. Then the great Leader in the Center stood, And to the Troops around him cry'd aloud, On you, brave Men, Your Prince has still rely'd, Sure of your Faith and Courage often try'd. What mighty Warriours have you overcome? What Captive Princes brought in Triumph home? What wonders have your Arms in Battel done, What wealthy Spoils from vanquish'd Nations won? You've by the glorious Fields which you have fought, Not only kept what your great Fathers got, But have by humbling Neighb'ring Monarchs Pride, Extended Gallia's Empire far and wide. You have the Power of distant Kingdoms broke, And on their Necks impos'd the Gallic Yoke. You have your martial fame and terror spred, And all Europa's Youth your Ensigns dread. What Heros ever could your Arms resist? When have your Squadrons fought, and Conquest mist? Arthur, 'tis true, did once some Troops defeat, But must not think his Vict'ry to repeat. The plying Infantry by giving Way, The great Disorder caus'd that lost the Day. You never were engag'd, you ne'er could show The Fire with which you us'd to Charge the Foe. Clotar on you his Cavalry relys, And by your Arms the British Power defys. 'Tis by the Cavalry the Franks have done Their mighty Deeds, and gain'd their chief Renown. Your Valour must determine Gallia's Fate, You are the Bulwark, that protects her State. Who can withstand, brave Men, the fatal Sword Of Vet'ran Troops to Conquest long inur'd? What Danger is so great, what Task so hard That can the Triumphs of such Troops retard? Scarce had he ended when his Courser's Flanks The Briton gor'd, and Sprung amidst the Ranks. His first projected Spear Bermondo slew, Piercing his Cuira**, Shield, and Body thro': Drunk with the Wound which inwardly did bleed The giddy Frank sat tottering on his Steed. The Courser's Reins fell from his feeble hand, Then down he headlong fell, and prest the Sand. Next to the sight strong Osbal did advance, But in his Breast receiv'd the Briton's Lance. As Thunder struck from Heav'n, the mighty Gaul Fell down, and shook the Vally with his fall. The Conq'ring Briton o'er his Body rode, And deep into the Sand his reeking Entrails trod. Stout Monlac next stood in the Briton's way, And proudly hop'd the Victor's Course to stay. Thro' his right Eye the Monarch's Weapon past, And pierc'd his Skull which steel in vain encas'd. He tumbled from his Seat, and on the ground He felt his Life departing from his Wound. Then by Garontes cast a mighty Spear Cut thro' the downy Bosom of the Air: Against the Conquering King it took it's Course, But in his Buckler spent it's dying Force. Garontes wheeling off had strait retir'd, But that the King with Indignation fir'd, Flew to the Charge, and with an oblique stroke His mighty Fauchion thro' the Helmet broke. He did his Mouth from Ear to Ear divide, And from the Wound gush'd out a reeking Tyde. His sever'd Jaw depending ghastly show'd, And from his Throat he Cough'd up Teeth and Blood. He fell, and while he lay in torturing Pain, Hot Coursers trod to Mire his Head and Brain. Onvil advanc'd the Briton to repel, But on his Crest the mighty Fauchion fell. The noble stroke did the strong Captain stun, Who dropt his Sword, and Shield, and in a Swoon, A while lay sensless on his Courser's Main, Then fell, and lay stretcht out amidst the Slain. Martel, who still the hottest Battel sought, And from the Combate frequent Laurels brought, Advanc'd the Monarch's progress to arrest, And hurl'd his ma**y Spear against his Breast. On Arthur's temper'd Shield the Weapon broke, In pieces flew, and lost the furious stroke. The King incens'd, flew on t'ingage the Foe, And at his Neck discharg'd a mighty Blow. Off leap'd the Head, and murm'ring flew away, Then gasping in the Dust, and twinkling lay. So swiftly did the sev'ring Fauchion go, So quick, so strong, so suddain was the Blow, That still the Trunk, tho' of the Head depriv'd, Preserv'd its Seat, and scarce the loss perceiv'd: A while a ghastly Prospect there it staid, And from the Neck the bloody Fountains play'd, Which high into the Air their Purple Streams convey'd, Then down it tumbled, and amidst the Dead, Lay at a distance from the sever'd Head. Next Oroban who grew in Battel bold, Because the Augur when consulted told, That from the War he should Victorious come, And chase from Gallia's Coast the Britons home; Oppos'd the King, but th' unexpected Steel The wounded Frank did in his Bosom feel. Approaching Fate he did in vain resist, Dying he fell, and curst the lying Priest. The Monarch then sprang forward to Assail, Lansac, confiding in his Coat of Mail. The Fauchion thro' the Coat soon pa**age found, His Shoulder cleft, and made a ghastly Wound. The fainting Gaul fell headlong from his seat And lay extended at the Courser's feet. Then thus the Pious King the Frank bespoke, At last thy Crimes have met th' avenging stroke. How many Christians has thy Savage hand Rack'd and destroy'd, pleas'd with thy Lord's Command? No Torments, no Destruction could a**wage Thy thirst of Blood, and Persecuting Rage. Think on the Arts thy Malice did invent, T'afflict the Poor, and vex the Innocent. Now thou must suffer for th' atrocious Guilt, For all the Blood thy impious hand has spilt. Then his bright Spear he thro' his Body thrust, Spur'd on his Steed, and crush'd him in the Dust. Torbet stood next, distinguish'd from the rest Both by his gaudy Arms, and Priestly Vest. But when he saw th' advancing Conqueror near, And ready to discharge his ma**y Spear, He from th' Invader turn'd his Courser's head, And from the dreadful danger would have fled. But then desparing to escape by Flight, And yet affraid to undertake the Fight, Trembling and Pale with fear himself he threw At Arthur's Feet, and thus for Life did sue. Pity, great Prince, as well as Courage show, And turn from Torbet's head your fatal Blow. My d**h ala** can no Applauses move, Nor can my worthless Life e'er Dang'rous prove. A Priest I am, but never did perswade With Fire and Sword the Christians to invade. I ne'er did Clotar's Cruelty Commend, But thought such Deeds Heav'n's Vengeance would attend. I still Compa**ion to the Sufferers shew'd, And ne'er my hands in Christian blood embru'd. He said. The King the trembling Coward left By his own Fears almost of Life bereft. Then Bramar trusting to his mighty Force Came boldly on t'oppose the Monarch's Course. Proudly he rein'd his generous, milk-white Steed As Thracian bold, swift as Iberian Breed. The Briton's Spear aim'd at his shining Crest, Missing the Rider struck the prauncing Beast, And entring deep lay buried in his Chest. He on his hinder Feet himself did rear, And with the foremost paw'd, and beat the Air; Then on the ground he fell, and with his fall The groaning Courser crush'd the war-like Gaul. Arthur advanc'd, and gave the fatal Wound; The Weapon fixt the Body to the ground. At Dagbert next, and Marodel he flew, The first his Spear, the last his Fauchion slew: This split the Brain, that with a furious stroke The Warriour's Ankle-bone to Splinters broke. Then Cossan, Aldar, Molan, Sarabel, Aranda, Clobar, and Elviran fell. As when loud Boreas blows his stiffest Gales, To swell some War-like Ship's expanded Sails, Driv'n with the furious Wind the Vessel braves The foaming Troops, and thick embattled Waves. O'er Billows thronging Heads the Victor rides, Cuts thro', and all the watry Host divides. With equal Force the Valiant Briton flew Amidst the Ranks, and charg'd as swiftly thro'. Osor mean time broke thro' th' opposing Franks, And bravely plung'd amidst the thickest Ranks. Great Shabron's Head his fatal Fauchion cleft, And on the ground th' expiring Pagan left. T'engage the Briton Rimon did advance; But in his Buckler broke th' unprosperous Lance. Osor incens'd advanc'd to Charge the Foe, Pois'd his long Spear and pierc'd his Body thro'. The Pagan sinking backward lost the Rein, The affrighted steed ran wild across the Plain And dropt the dying Frank amidst the Slain. Next the brave Warriour did his Javelin throw At Ulna's Breast, which tho' it mist the Foe, The glittering point his Steed's right Eye-ball past, And stuck within the bloody Orbit fast. High in the Air he rose, then to the ground He backward fell, expiring with the wound. Struck Breathless with the Fall, the noble Frank Lay with his Shoulders on the Courser's Flank. Quick to the ground the Briton from his Seat With ardor leap'd, his Conquest to compleat. He laid his left Hand on the Warriour's Crest, And with his right Hand stab'd him in the Breast. Then Andolan of Ammon's noble Line Born on the flowry Banks of Silver Sein, Spur'd his hot Steed, and griping fast his Spear, Ran at the Briton with a full Career. Illustrious Osor ne'er to fear inur'd, T'engage the Frank his Courser onward spur'd. Then with a mighty shock the Coursers met Dismounting both the Riders from their Seat. So when two Ships their Contest to decide In rude Rencounters meet upon the Tide, No more the Sailors can their Decks maintain, But with the Shock are forc'd into the Main. Their feet recover'd, soon the Champions drew Their flashing Blades, and to the Combate flew. Forwards stretcht out they did their Bodys bend, And with uplifted Shields their Heads defend. Vast strokes were now discharg'd on either side, Strokes that with ease would unarm'd Limbs divide. Their Armour was deform'd with numerous dints, And their bruis'd Bucklers shew'd the Fauchions prints. For Conquest long the Captains did contend, And in vast strokes their Martial Vigour spend. Still both the Combatants maintain'd their ground, Neither had given, nor yet receiv'd a Wound. At last their Strength with equal honour spent, To end the noble Combate both consent. The valiant Chiefs in friendly manner part, Praising each other's Strength, each other's Art. The generous Briton to the Gallic Lord Did for a present give a famous Sword. The Haft an Agate was from India brought, Where inlaid Trees, and Birds by Nature wrought Appear'd distinct and fair, as Ants and Bees k**'d and Entomb'd in drops from Amber Trees. With their best Sk** Iberian Masters made Of purest temper'd Steel the faithful Blade. The ample Scabbard which the Sword did hold, Shone bright with glitt'ring Gems and Studs of Gold. This Sword Nazaleod from rich Colmar won, When he the Saxon slew with great renown, And his rich Spoils midst loud Applauses brought From the fam'd Battel at Gallena fought: The Sword Nazaleod to great Osor gave Whose Arms did once his Life in Battel save. The noble Frank a Saddle did present Glorious with Gems, with Work magnificent. The Pummel was an Ivory Lyon's Head That fiercly grin'd, as those in Lybia bred. The Seat rich Crimson Velvet cover'd o'er, Like that exported from Liguria's Shore. Th' embroader'd Skirts were all with Gold besmear'd, Where Figures wrought with curious Art appear'd. A Leopard's Skin th' appending Housing was From Afric brought, and grac'd with Silver Paws. Elsewhere brave Clovis did the Foe pursue, And first his ma**y Spear at Ortan threw. The temper'd Shield could not it's Force Arrest, It pa**'d the Plys and pierc'd the Warriour's Breast. The secret Springs of Life the Weapon found, And broke them open with a fatal Wound. The Spear fixt in his Breast, some time he hung, And with his left hand to the Saddle clung, But with his Right held fast the Courser's Main And thus a while his Body did sustain. But d**h unstrung his Nerves, and loos'd his hold, Then in the Sand th' expiring Captain roll'd. Then with his Battel Ax great Clovis flew At Maronac, and cleft his Shoulder thro'. Down on the Ground the Arm dis-joynted dropt, As a great Limb falls from a Poplar lopt. Strait the dismember'd Frank, a fearful Sight, Wheel'd off in vain to save his Life by Flight. Warm streams flew out from every sever'd vein And markt with tracks of Blood the Dusty Plain. Defrauded of his Strength the feeble Gaul At last did headlong from his Courser fall. Cold d**h forbad his lab'ring Heart to beat, And in his blood supprest the vital Heat. Then Carobel who had advanc'd his name By learned Arts, and Sk** in Nature's Fame, Bold too in Arms, and to the Camp inur'd, Fell in Lutetia's fields by Clovis Sword: Thro' Helm and Skull the Fauchion pa**age found, Cleft thro' the Brain, and ruin'd with the Wound The curious Imag'ry by Fancy wrought, All Mem'ry's Cells, and all the Moulds of Thought. Next Alloman lay dead, Lugdunum's Pride, And beauteous Ormal stretcht out by his Side. Capellan also signaliz'd his Arms, And boldly prest amidst the Gallic Swarms. He slew at Lucan with a full Career, And thro' his Bosom past his fatal Spear. His second Fromel k**'d, the next he threw Young Lamar pierc'd, the next Obella slew. Then his Projected Dart transfixt the Head Of Grutar's Steed, which on the field lay dead. Across the Beast on which before he rode Ghastly with Gore and Dust the Warriour strode With his strong Arm he did his Spear protend, And with his burnish'd Shield his Head defend. A while he strove, and bravely kept his ground, Till the fierce Briton's Spear it's pa**age found Thro' Helm and Head, and then with d**h opprest He fell, and lay across th' extended Beast. While Valiant Clovis so much Honour won, Elsewhere like Wonders were by Lucius done. First in his way by luckless Fortune stood, Young Medolan of Trabor's noble Blood. The Javelin thro' his Belly made it's way, And in his wounded Entrails buried lay. The Youth, so much he was to Arms inclin'd, Left unenjoy'd his beauteous Bride behind; He's now embrac'd by d**h' s unwelcom Arms, And to another quits her Maiden Charms. Brave Arcan burning with a Martial Flame, To aid his wounded Brother swiftly came; But felt the Briton's Steel within his Veins, Which thro' his Armour pierc'd the Warriour's Reins. Upon his Seat he could no longer stay But fell, and cross his dying Brother lay. Their mournful Friends look'd on, but were afraid, So great the Peril was, to give them Aid. So when a Lyon roaming o'er the Lawns, Descrys the Thicket where her tender Fawns The Doe as she believ'd did safely lay, In do's he leap, and tear the panting Prey The Doe at distance do's their Fate bewail, But dares not come the Murd'rer to Assail. While Valiant Lucius such destruction made, Against the Chief advanc'd a strong Brigade; And opening to the Right and Left, the Foes On every side the Leader did enclose. The noble Briton did himself defend, While Clouds of Spears from every part they send. The missive War upon his Buckler rung, And showers of fruitless d**hs around him sung. So when fierce Dogs and clam'rous Swains surround A mighty Boar in neighb'ring Mountains found; His Bristles high erected on his Back, The raging Beast withstands the Foes attack: He whets his dreadful Tusks, and from afar He foams, and flourishes the Ivory War. The cautious Huntsmen at a distance rage, Cast all their Darts, but dare not close engage. At last the Briton from an unknown Spear, Receiv'd a painful Wound beneath the Ear. The striving Blood did thro' his Armour spout The Franks observing gave a mighty shout. Thus wounded and opprest, the British Chief Call'd to his Friends aloud to bring Relief. It chanc'd that mighty Trelon then was near, Who to his Squadron cry'd, the Voice I hear Is Lucius, who encircled with the Foe, Contends in vain to cut his pa**age thro'. To bring him off we'll force the Gallic Ranks. He said, and strait he spur'd his Courser's Flanks, And shaking in his hand his glitt'ring Lance, To Charge the Franks with Fury did advance. The Franks disperst when Trelon first appear'd, So much they all his famous Courage fear'd. So when fierce Wolves have seiz'd a fainting Deer, But newly wounded by the Huntsman's Spear. With reeking Blood they feast their hungry Jaws, And the warm Entrails pant beneath their Paws. But if a Lyon comes, the awful Sight Do's from their Prey the prowling Race affright. Then his bright Spear with Fury cast betwixt The Flank and Chest, great Tolna's Steed transfixt. The generous Beast beneath the Rider fell: Tolna th' invading Tempest to repel, Springing with Vigour from the Courser's back, Advanc'd on foot great Trelon to attack. And that the Briton's Fury might be stay'd, His Left Hand on the Courser's Reins he laid, And held his flaming Fauchion in the Right, Resolving thus he would maintain the Fight. The Britons Steed that Swords and Spears disdain'd, With Indignation foam'd to be restrain'd: Trelon enrag'd, divided at a blow His Arm, which dropt and let the Courser go. The generous Steed finding the Rein releast, Sprang forth, and struck stout Tolna in the Breast, Who breathless fell, with endless Night opprest. Mean time, at distance Arbel bravely fought, And wondrous Fame by great Atchievements sought. His Courage, Strength, and Conduct often try'd Made all the Gallic Youth in him confide As their Chief Champion, and their surest guide. He spur'd his fiery Steed, and forwards sprung Amidst the Troops, and broke th' opposing Throng. Brave Gomar first his fury did withstand, But while to cast his Spear he rais'd his hand, The Frank's bright Lance between his Armour's joynt Beneath his Arm-pit past its glitt'ring point. Deep in his breathing Lungs the Weapon lay The Neustrian's fell, and saw no more the Day. Coril advanc'd to undertake the Fight, And threw his Weapon with prodigious might. The Frank inclin'd his head, and heard the Spear Aim'd at his Crest pa** singing by his Ear. Then did his Dart against the Briton fly, And wounded thro' the Plate his brawny Thigh. A bloody Stream gush'd from the painful wound, And flowing down his Armour stain'd the ground. On did th' insulting Frank with fury fly, And eager to compleat the Victory. On high his dreadful Battel-Axe did heave, Hoping in two the Briton's head to cleave. But as it fell, the Courser rose, and took Between his Ears the Champions furious stroke. The Steel sunk thro' his Brain the staggering Beast Fell, and his weight the wounded Rider prest. Bold Malgo brought his Squadron up, and freed The groaning Briton from the unweildy steed. They drew by force the Hero from the Field, Then bore him off laid on a spacious Shield. So when a Flag Ship is by Foes o'erborn, Unmasted, and with Cannon's Thunder torn, From the hot Fight attending Frigates pull And Tow along the maim'd, disabled Hull. Mean time the Briton with his reeking Blade Had his swift pa**age to the Quarter made, Where Arbel's Sword destroy'd, and strew'd around With Riders and their Steeds th' encumber'd ground As when a Lyon from a Mountain's side Has in the Vale a lowing Herd descry'd, He stands, and turns his furious Eyes about, The strongest, sowrest Bull to single out, One worthy of his Rage, by all the Herd Obey'd as Lord, and by each Rival fear'd: Then having fixt his choice aloud he roars, Proclaims the War, and to the Combate scowrs. So Arthur keeping Arbel in his Eye, Did to the sight with dreadful fury fly. The Gaul observ'd the Monarch from afar, And for the Combate did himself prepare. High on his Steed the might Warriour sate, Proud of his Strength, and fearless of his Fate. Like a great Pine o'ershadowing all the Wood, Or ancient Poplar reering by the Flood His lofty head, the towring Pagan stood. Well-pleas'd to undertake the noble Fight He did aloud to Arms the King invite. Who on his fiery Steed advancing near, Projected thro' the Air his pondrous Spear. The Frank to make his weapon's message vain Stoop'd down, and lay upon his Courser's Main. Th' eluded Weapon o'er his Shoulder flew, And at great distance Caumont's Courser slew. Then did the Frank employing all his Strength Discharge his Spear of formidable Length, Hissing along the Air, the Weapon went, But in the Hero's Shield its fury spent. His second Spear the Pious Briton threw Which like a flash of Lightning swiftly flew. The wheeling Frank could not the Steel evade Which thro' his Shield and Thigh its pa**age made; Whence deep it sunk within the Courser's Chest, And fixt the Rider to the wounded Beast. From both their sever'd veins the reeking Blood Gush'd out, and mingled in one Common Flood. Then down they fell and prest the slipp'ry plain, The Rider wounded, and the Courser slain. The King with martial Ardor to the ground Leap'd from his Steed to give the fatal wound. His dreadful Fauchion glittering in his hand He o'er the vanquish'd Frank did threatning stand. The Frank in Anguish, Horrour, and Despair, Did on the high rais'd Weapon wildly stare. Then thus the Pious Prince bespoke the Gaul, Think on thy Barb'rous Deeds, remember all The Fatherless and Widdows thou hast made, And Christian Martyrs to the Flames convey'd. What numbers has thy single hand destroy'd? What numbers more the Troops by thee Employ'd? These Impious Deeds thou bloody Instrument Of Clotar's Cruelty at last Repent. The Frank reply'd. No Sorrow can I own For my just anger to the Christians shown. Can he impiety to me object, Who do's the Worship of the Gods neglect? Whose sacrilegious hands their Temples raze Destroy their Altars, and their Shrines deface? Who do's the Gods, and Goddesses dethrone, Denying all th' Immortal Powers, but one. I grant I still pursu'd the Christian Sect, And from just Heav'n I my Reward expect, For sure th' Impartial Gods will ne'er condemn A Zeal that springs from Reverence to them. He said. The King reply'd, Remorseless Wretch, Canst thou in d**h such Consolation fetch, From thy black Guilt, which should thy Conscience Scare, And fill thy Breast with Terror and Despair? Tho' thou with Guilt and Prejudice are blind Thou in thy Torments wilt thy Error find. This Hand shall send thee to the sad Reward By Righteous Heav'n for Men of Blood prepar'd. Then thro' the Frank, extended on the Dust, His Spear, the King with Indignation thrust. Thro' his Left Pap it did its pa**age make, Transfixt his Breast and stuck within his Back. He fetcht thick dying throbs, and double Sighs, While endless Night seal'd up his swimming Eyes. Soon as the Pagans saw their Champion dead, From Arthur's Arms the trembling Squadrons fled. The Conquering King did eagerly pursue, And in the Chace prodigious Numbers slew. So when tempestuous Boreas stretches forth His furious Wings, and leaves the frozen North; Th' insulted Clouds dispers'd, and routed fly, O'er all the liquid Desarts of the Sky. The swift Pursuer hangs upon the Rear, And drives the black Battalions thro' the Air. While beauteous Celon with a loosen'd Rein, Flew from the Conquering King across the Plain; His Courser slipt, and fell by luckless Chance, To take his Life the Monarch did advance. When old Velino who together fled, The Danger saw, he turn'd his Courser's Head; Beneath the Victor's Feet himself he threw, And for his Son Young Celon thus did sue. O spare the Youth, and let, Victorious Prince, Compa**ion joyn'd with Power, the World convince, That by Heroic Enterprises you, Laurels, but not with Cruelty, pursue. The Gallic Forces to your Valour yield, And with inglorious Rout o'erspread the Field. If you in Pity give, as I entreat, The Youth his Life, your Vict'ry's still compleat. He's not a Frank sprung from Germanic Race, But from the Gauls who first possest this place. His Mother was to Christian Faith inclin'd, And he was ever to the Christians Kind. Three of his Brothers on the Field lie slain, This Son of Nine do's now alone remain; My only Comfort, and my only Hope, Of my declining Age the single Prop. Pity my hoary Head, his blooming years, The Son's true Virtue, and the Father's Tears. Pity, if you a Father are, express To a sad Father in such vast distress: At least the tender Pa**ion you may know, Thinking on that your Father show'd to you. Avert, great Prince, from Celon's Breast your Dart, Strike rather than the Son's, the Father's Heart. Velino ceas'd. And from his Eyes apace The gushing Tears flow'd down his mournful Face. The Pious King toucht with the moving Prayer, Forbore the stroke, and did young Celon spare. Old Man, he cry'd, your Tears your Son reprieve, Thus twice a Father to him Life you give. Orban a noble Veloca**ian Youth, Who once profess'd the Heav'nly Christian Truth, But that his Wealth and Life might be secur'd, Renounc'd Religion, and his God abjur'd. Now felt King Arthur's Spear within his Reins, And finding d**h creep Cold along his Veins: Mad with Despair aloud th' Apostate cry'd, Curst be the hour when I my God deny'd. The Ease, and Life, and Wealth I valu'd most, Are by the ways I strove to save them lost. Now must I Torments, Agonys, Despair, And everlasting Throws of Conscience bear. More had he said, but interposing d**h To form his Words deny'd Supplys of Breath. The King continu'd his pursuit, and made A dreadful Slaughter till the Evening Shade, To stop the Victor's Course, did interpose Between the Britons and their flying Foes. Arthur return'd in Triumph to his Tent, Where he to Heav'n, in solemn manner sent Religious Praises, and his God ador'd, Who once more, had with Conquest crown'd his Sword.