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An Arthurian Miscellany at





    When I had written Prince Arthur , a Poem that came abroad two years ago, I was so diffident of the Performance, that I continu'd unresolv'd for many Weeks, whether I should let it appear, or wholly suppress it, till the Judgment of others, for which I had a great Deference, determin'd me to make it Publick. The Favour and Approbation it met with, was much greater, and far more Universal, even among great Names, and establish'd, uncontested Judges, than I had ever the Vanity to expect. Nor was I in the least surpriz'd or troubled, that it met with some Opposers. For I must have been extreamly ignorant of the nature of Humane Passions, if I had not certainly foreseen, that not only the Design of the Poem, but likewise the Provoking Preface to it, must needs have engag'd a Considerable Party , among whom were several Men of Wit and Parts, to use their utmost Endeavours to sink its Reputation; if indeed it should deserve any.

   Besides, when I consider'd that I was so great a stranger to the Muses , and by no means free of the Poets Company , having never Kiss'd their Governour's hands, nor made the least Court to the Committee that sits in Convent Garden; and that therefore mine was not so much as a Permission Poem , but a pure, downright Interloper , it was but natural to conclude, that those Gentlemen , who by Assisting, Crying up, Excusing and Complementing one another, carry on their Poetical Trade in a Joynt-stock, would certainly do what they could to sink and ruin an unlicens'd Adventurer ; notwithstanding I disturb'd none of their Factorys, nor imported any Goods they had ever dealt in. I knew that I ran a very great Risk while I was so hardy to venture abroad Naked and Unguarded, when none of the Company went out without a notable Convoy of Criticks and Applauders , who were constantly in their Service; Men tho' singly of no great Force, yet when united, considerable for their Numbers. Accordingly when the Poem came forth they attack'd it, tho' perhaps not with all the Discretion, yet with all the Fury Imaginable; But all their Strokes were lost, and all their Efforts made in vain. Impartial Readers, with great Generosity, protected the strange Muse from their rude Insults; and rescu'd her from their Noise and Violence. For their Character and Temper, as well as the Grounds and Reasons of their Outcrys and Opposition were so well known, that they could by no means pass for unbyass'd and Disinterested Judges; and therefore all their Attempts either prov'd Unsuccessful, or produc'd a quite contrary Effect, and instead of lessening the Credit of the Poem, in many Instances they very much advanc'd it.

   These Gentlemen pretend to be displeas'd with Prince Arthur , because they have discover'd so many Faults in it: But there is good reason to believe they would have been more displeas'd, if they had discover'd fewer. But they say, they have very nicely and carefully compar'd this Poem with Virgil 's, and they find that famous Roman has abundantly the advantage of Prince Arthur . This they are Confident of, and are ready to maintain against all Mankind what I must confess, I never in the least doubted of. But in the mean time, the making of that Comparison, and the very starting of the Debate, is a greater Honour done to the Poem than could have been expected from the enemys of it. But they seem to have given it yet a greater Reputation, inasmuch as they have not adventur'd to say or maintain, that either Homer himself the Prince and Father of the Epick Poets , or any of his Successors, Virgil excepted, has shewn a more regular Conduct, or a more perfect Model, how much greater Genius soever do's appear in their Writings.

   After all it must be acknowledg'd, that setting aside abundance of Frivolous, Frolicksom, and Groundless Objections which the Enemys of Prince Arthur have made, that several considerable Defects are to be found in that Poem . I was conscious to my self, that the Second and Third Books were too long before I publish'd them, tho' they were not made before the First, as some have imagin'd, but hoping that they would not prove tedious to any impartial Readers, and that it might be an useful Entertainment to many, I was contented to let that Indecorum pass. And several Friends to Prince Arthur did very early convince me, that in several Instances the Descriptions, Digressions, and Similes, were lyable to the same Objection. I was likewise soon after the Publishing satisfy'd, that I had not well consider'd the Recital made by Lucius in the Fourth Book; and particularly that it began too high; as likewise of many other Faults and Indecencies of less Importance.

   'Tis certain, that none could expect from me an Epick Poem in all degrees of Perfection, there is no faultless Writer of that Kind, has ever appear'd in the World, not Virgil himself excepted, tho' his Poem was a labour'd Piece, the Work of great part of his Life; and after revis'd by two Eminent Criticks Tucca and Varius. And as for the great Homer , if any Gentleman is pleas'd to read Rapin 's Comparison of him with Virgil , he will be soon convinc'd that the Poems of this Wonderful Man have many considerable Defects. But the Criticks , and particularly the famous Longinus have an Apology that will easily get him off: They say of Writers of the first Rank, such as Homer and Demosthenes , that one or two of their extraordinary and admirable Thoughts will Atone for all their Faults, and that a great Man is uncapable of attending with anxious Care to matters of little Importance.

   And if a sour, pragmatical Critick would spend a Years time in searching after Objections to either of these Authours, he might perhaps find a great deal to say; but nothing that would lessen their Reputation.

   The faults in Prince Arthur proceeded partly from defect of Judgment and Genius equal to, and sufficient for so great and difficult an Undertaking; partly from want of Leisure and Retirement, to consider coolly ever part of that Writing, and partly from the hasty Dispatch of it; it having been Begun, Carry'd on and Compleated, as in the Preface was Suggested, in less than two years time, and by such catches and starts, and in such occasional, uncertain hours, as the Business of my Profession would afford me. And therefore for the greatest part that Poem was written in Coffee-houses , and in passing up and down the Streets; because I had little leisure elsewhere to apply to it.

   Another reason of the Defects that appear in that writing is this, That when I undertook it I had been long a stranger to the Muses. I had read but little Poetry throughout my whole Life, and in fifteen years before, I had not, as I can remember, wrote a hundred Lines in Verse, excepting a Copy of Latine Verses in honour of a Friend's Book.

   As this Apology will perhaps take off the severity of the Reader's Censure as to Prince Arthur , so I hope it may likewise have the same Effect, as to the following Poem ; for all the same things, except the last, can be said to excuse the Defects that shall appear in this. And if it shall be demanded why it was so hastily publish'd, all that I shall say is this, that the Judicious Reader will soon find in the Poem it self, the true Reason why I could keep it no longer by me; which if I could have done, it would, perhaps, have appear'd with more Advantages.

   The Reasons which induc'd me to make the former, did likewise engage me in this second Attempt in Epick Poetry; and among the rest, particularly this, that the young Gentlemen and Ladys who are delighted with Poetry might have a useful, at least a harmless Entertainment, which in our Modern Plays and Poems cannot ordinarily be found. The Candor of the Age has made my Design in a great measure successful, whereby I am abundantly convinc'd that those Poets are under a great mistake, that think there is no other, but that leud and abominable way of writing which was encourag'd in the late Reigns, that will please the Nation. This is a meer Pretence of ill Poets, whose Imaginations are fill'd only with base and contemptible Ideas ; Men of a poor and narrow Genius , scarce above the level of Writers of Farce, who would not have Images enough left in their Minds to furnish out a Poem , if the prophane and obscene ones were struck out. And tho' these mischievous ways of Writing are still endur'd, to the great prejudice of Religion and good Manners, yet if ever the English Nation recovers it's ancient Vertue, and a just Tast of these Matters, I do not doubt but most of those Writers who have been esteem'd and applauded in the late loose and vicious Times, will be rejected with Indignation and Contempt, as the Dishonour of the Muses, and the Underminers of the Publick Good. But I am carry'd on to a Subject of which I have spoken enough heretofore.

   Since the writing of this, I have seen a Tragedy call'd the Mourning Bride ; which I think my self oblig'd to take notice of in this place. This Poem has receiv'd, and in my Opinion very justly, Universal Applause; being look'd on as the most perfect Tragedy that has been wrote in this Age. The Fable , as far as I can judge at first sight, is a very Artful and Masterly Contrivance. The Characters are well chosen, and well delineated. That of Zara is admirable. The Passions are well touch'd, and skillfully wrought up. The Diction is Proper, Clear, Beautiful, Noble, and diversify'd agreeably to the variety of the Subject. Vice, as it ought to be, is punish'd, and Opprest Innocence at last Rewarded. Nature appears very happily imitated, excepting one or two doubtful Instances, thro' the whole Piece, in all which there are no immodest Images or Expressions, no wild, unnatural Rants, but some few Exceptions being allow'd, all things are Chast, Just, and Decent. This Tragedy , as I said before, has mightily obtain'd; and that without the unnatural and foolish mixture of Farce and Buffoonry, without so much as a Song, or Dance to make it more agreeable. By this it appears, that as a sufficient Genius can recommend it self, and furnish out abundant matter of Pleasure and Admiration without the paultry helps above nam'd, so likewise that the Tast of the Nation is not so far deprav'd, but that a Regular and Chast Play will not only be forgiven, but highly Applauded. And now there is some reason to hope that our Poets will follow this excellent Example, and that hereafter no slovenly Writer will be so hardy as to offer to our Publick Audiences his obscene and prophane Pollutions, to the great Offence of all Persons of Vertue and good Sense. The common pretence that the Audience will not be otherwise pleas'd, is now wholly remov'd; for here is a notorious Instance to the contrary. And it must be look'd on hereafter as the Poet's fault, and not the People 's, if we have not better Performances. All men must now conclude that 'tis for want of Wit and Judgment to support them, that our Poets for the Stage apply themselves to such low and unworthy ways to recommend their Writings; and therefore I cannot but conceive Great Hopes that every good Genius for the fuutre will look on it self debas'd by condescending to Write in that leud Manner, that has been of late years introduc'd, and too long Encourag'd. And if this comes to pass the Writers in the late Reigns will be asham'd of their own Works, and wish they had their Plays in again, as well as their fulsome Dedications.

   Some Persons have demanded the Reason, seeing I had a Fancy to be an Author, why I had not written on some useful Subject in Physic or Philosophy: this they imagin'd would have became me better than the engaging my Thoughts on a Subject so far distant from the Business of my Profession. I desire these Gentlemen to receive this answer; First, That the writing of this, as well as the former Poem was not Business, but Diversion and Recreation; an Innocent Amusement to entertain me in such leisure hours which were usually past away before in Conversation, and unprofitable hearing and telling of News. But if I had set my self to writing on matters of Physic or Philosophy , this would not have been a Recreation , but another Business and Labour , for which I was unfit, and that requir'd the Liberty of my Books and Closet, and some sort of Retirement, which the Continual Dutys of my Profession would not allow me. But I have also another Reason to give to the Persons who ask the Question above mention'd; and that is, that I am so far faln out with all Hyphotheses in Philosophy , and all Doctrines of Physic which are built upon them, that in such matters I am almost reduc'd to a Sceptical Despair . The Almighty 's Creation is like his Providence , unsearchable; his Works , and his Ways are equally past finding out; the raising of an Hypotheses in Philosophy obtains little more Credit with me, that the erecting a Scheme in Astrology; and the Judgments and Decisions that are given upon them seem to me alike Precarious and uncertain. I was once enamour'd with the Cartesian System , but the warmth of my Passion is quite extinguish'd. It may indeed make a Man capable of entertaining and amusing others, but not of quieting and satisfying himself. All Knowledge is valuable according to it's degree of Usefulness, as it do's more or less promote the benefit of Mankind, and for this Reason 'tis a great mortification to consider how little the Pains and Time I have bestow'd in Philosophical Enquirys, have contributed to my knowledge in Curing Diseases. I am now inclin'd to think, that 'tis an Injury to a Man of good sense and natural Sagacity, to be hamper'd with any Hypothesis before he comes to the Practice of Physic. For this prepossession obstructs the Freedom of his Judgement, puts a strong Byass on his Thoughts, and obliges him to make all the Observations that occur to him in his Practise, to comply with, and humour his pre-conceived Opinions; whereas in Reason, his Observations on Nature should be first made, before any Hypotheses should be establish'd. A clear and penetrating Understanding, Cultivated and Matur'd by repeated, Diligent Observation, will in my Opinion, make a more able and accomplish'd Physitian, than any Philosophical Scheme that has yet obtain'd in the World. And what useful Knowledge, I have gain'd this way in my Profession, may perhaps sometime be made Publick.

   I look on my self to have greater obligations to the Studies of Logic and Metaphysicks, wherein I was carefully instructed in the University, which improve and advance our reasoning Faculty, teach us to think clearly and distinctly, to speak pertinently, closely, and justly; and thereby fit a Man for any kind of Business or Profession, than to all the Searches which I have made after the Reasons and Causes of Natural Phænomena .

   I am very sensible, that these Studies are in great Contempt with many Ingenious Men; the subject of much Raillery, and the great Abomination of the Wits . But I am likewise very sensible, that these merry Men very rarely become eminently useful in any sort of Profession; for the most part they continue Triflers all their Days; and a meer Jester, when he comes abroad into the World, makes a very mean Figure among Men of Business. 'Tis remarkable that those Idle, and almost illiterate Young Men, that are call'd Wits in our Universities, are very inconsiderable Things elsewhere; for Mankind will never be perswaded to have those Men, who can only make them laugh, in equal Esteem with those that can do them Good.

   Thus much in answer to those who have demanded, Why a Physician instead of communicating his Knowledge and Experience in his Profession, busys himself in Writing Heroic Poems.

   As to the following Performance, tho' the Hero be the same, yet 'tis another entire Poem, distinct from the former: For 'tis the Diversity of the Action, and not of the Hero , that diversifies the Poem. And that the Reader may better observe whence the Action of this takes its Rise, I will tell in short King Arthur ' s Story, as 'tis related by Geofry of Monmouth . That there was about the end of the Fourth, or the beginning of the Fifth Century , a King of Britain nam'd Arthur ; a Prince of extraordinary Qualities, and Famous for his Martial Atchievements, who succeeeded his Father Uter Pendragon , all our Historians agree; and the eminently learned Bishop of Worcester in his Origines Britannicæ, do's acknowledge it. And tho' the above-cited Geofry of Monmouth is indeed a Fabulous Author, yet his Authority, especially considering that there was such a Warlike Prince as Arthur , is a sufficient Foundation for an Epick Poem . This Author says, that after King Arthur had Conquer'd the Saxons , who being call'd in by Vortigern to protect him against the Incursions and Depredations of the Scots and Picts , took the advantage, and settled themselves in this Island; he prepar'd a Royal Navy , Embark'd his Troops , and directed his Course to the Coasts of Norway ; then called, according to Cluverius , Nerigon , or the Western Part of Scandinavia . This Kingdom being subdued, he carried his Arms into the Country now call'd Denmark , then inhabited by the Cimbri : And by the Writers of the Age in which Geofry of Monmouth liv'd, call'd commonly, but erroneously, Dacia . This Kingdom he likewise quickly overrun: For it seems nothing could stand before him. This done, he return'd home in Triumph, and having for a while, entertain'd at his Court with great Splendor and Magnificence, multitudes of Foreign Princes, and Knights famous for Chivalry, who came to signalize their Valour at the Justs and Tournaments which King Arthur had proclaim'd; He Embark'd his Army to Invade Gallia , sate down before Lutetia , once the Capital City of the Parisij , and in Arthur' s days of the Franci , and soon made himself Master of the Place. This Expedition, and the Conquest of Lutetia , is the Subject of the following Poem .

   The Model of it is New, and therfore now I hope I shall not be Censur'd for an Imitator , tho' I must confess, I cannot believe my Imitation of Virgil in the former Poem to be the least dishonour. Would the famous Sir Godfry Kneller think it a Reproach if any should say, that his Pencil too nearly follow'd that of Raphael Urbin ? Or can it be imagin'd, that Sir Christopher Wren would be offended, if it should be objected to him, that in his building of St. Paul' s Church he too much imitated Michael Angelo.

    And as I had not my Eye upon any other Model, so I am not conscious to my Self of having us'd any Authour's Thoughts or Expressions, excepting two or three Images taken from Homer , and a few allusions to some Inventions of Milton, whom I took on as a very Extraordinary Genius . If there be any other Thoughts that are not my own, they are taken from the Sacred Writers of the Bible, which I hope I shall not be condemn'd for. I have in the Sixth Book adventur'd on an Allegory , finding Homer has done the like in his Story of Circe . His Example, I imagin, as well as the Nature and Design of Epick Poetry will justify that Attempt, especially since I have not dwelt long upon it.

   Whether the Fable of this Poem be a regular Contrivance , whether there be but One , Unbroken, Compleat Action, whether the Choice , the Conduct, Connexion, and Extension of the Episodes , and whether the Diction and Narration be such as the Rules of Epick Poetry require, must be left to the Decision of the Judicious Reader . It would be a wild Imagination to think of pleasing all the Criticks who are no better agreed among themselves. Till the Rules of Writing are Setled by some Infallible Judge of Controversys among Poets, there will be different Opinions and disagreeing Sects in Parnassus , who will always treat and persecute one another as Obstinate Hereticks . The Essential and Fundamental Articles , for want of which a Poet is justly condemn'd, are very few. There are Abundance of probable Doctrines which the Schoolmen of Parnassus and the Poets in Speculation may hold affirmatively or negatively, as they please, and yet be look'd on as very good Sons of the Muses. If there appears enough in this Poem to Entertain those candid Readers who were not displeas'd with the Former , I shall be abundantly satisfy'd, and easily pass by the Censures of those who are declared Enemys before hand. The Ingenuous part of Mankind will not fall unmercifully on a Writer of Epick Poetry , wherein only two Men, I mean Homer and Virgil have succeeded. Whatever Genius others have discover'd, none have left any Thing that came near to a perfect Model, but these two great Masters: and I do not think it amiss in this place to make a Comparison between them, with which I shall end this Preface.

   Homer excels in Genius , Virgil in Judgment. Homer as conscious of his great Riches and Fullness entertains the Reader with great Splendor and Magnificent Profusion. Virgil 's Dishes are well chosen, and tho not Rich and Numerous, yet serv'd up in great Order and Decency. Homer ' s Imagination is Strong, Vast and Boundless, an unexhausted Treasure of all kinds of Images; which made his Admirers and Commentators in all Ages affirm, that all sorts of Learning were to be found in his Poems. Virgil's Imagination is not so Capacious, tho' his Ideas are Clear, Noble, and of great Conformity to their Objects. Homer has more of the Poetical Inspiration . His Fire burns with extraordinary Heat and Vehemence, and often breaks out in Flashes, which Surprise, Dazle and Astonish the Reader : Virgil' s is a clearer and a chaster Flame, which pleases and delights, but never blazes in that extraordinary and surprising manner. Methinks there is the same Difference between these two great Poets , as there is between their Heros. Homer' s Hero, Achilles , is Vehement, Raging and Impetuous. He is always on Fire, and transported with an immoderate and resistless Fury, performs every where Miraculous Atchievements , and like a rapid Torrent overturns all things in his way. Æneas, the Hero of the Latine Poet , is a calm, Sedate Warriour. He do's not want Courage, neither has he any to spare: and the Poet might have allowed him a little more Fire, without overheating him. As for Invention, 'tis evident the Greek Poet has mightily the advantage. Nothing is more Rich and Fertile than Homer ' s Fancy. He is Full, Abundant, and Diffusive above all others. Virgil on the other hand is rather dry, than fruitful. 'Tis plain the Latin Poet in all his famous Æneis, has very little, if any Design of his own. The Recital of the Destruction of Troy , and the Story of the Wooden Horse, Macrobius says, is almost word for word taken from Pisander. The Navigation of Æneas; and his Dangers and Adventures by Sea , are drawn from the example of Homer's Ulysses. His Descent into Hell, which makes the Noble Sixth Book , is likewise in Imitation of the Hero before nam'd. The Shield of Æneas is form'd by that of Achilles . The Battels in the Æneis very much resemble those in the Ilias . A great many of the Pictures are taken from thence, and abundance of the Warriours are the same with those who fought before the Walls of Troy .

   And tho 'tis true the Story of Æneas and Dido is not to be trac'd in Homer 's Works , yet Macrobius tells us in his Saturnalia, that this likewise is borrow'd from what is said of Jason and Medea in the Fourth Book of Apollonius his Argonautica . Those who are willing to see how much Virgil is indebted to Homer , and the rest of the Greek Poets , and also to the Latins themselves, as Ennius, Lucretius , Varius , & c. from whom he has taken his Designs, or his particular Images; or whose very Lines he has Translated almost word for word, of which an Incredible number of Instances may be given, may consult the before nam'd Macrobius in his Saturnalia, Fulvius Ursinus his Comparatio Virgilij cum Scriptoribus Græcis & Guellius , his Comments on this great Poet. They will then see plainly that Virgil ' s Materials were all borrow'd, tho' the Noble Structure be his own. The Excellency of this Extraordinary Man lay in his Judicious Contrivance, Regular Conduct, the Skilful Accomodation of other Mens Conceptions to his own Purpose, and in the Propriety, Decency, Beauty and Majesty of his Expression, which in the finish'd Parts of his Poem are Admirable and Inimitable. If therefore the Question be, who had the greater Genius, Homer or Virgil , there is no doubt but Homer must be Prefer'd? But if it be whether Virgil' s be a more Regular, Artful and Judicious Poem than either of Homers, then Virgil must be acknowledg'd to have the advantage?


   Celestial Muse, Instruct me how to sing
The generous Pity of the British King,
Who mov'd by Gallia 's crys, and Heav'n's Command,
Sustain'd excessive toyl by Sea and Land,
The Gallic Christians Freedom to restore,
And save Neustrasia 's Realm from Clotar 's power.

   The Valiant Briton from the Cimbrian Coast
Was newly landed with his Conq'ring Host,
Leading his Spoils and Captive Lords along
Augusta 's Streets, amidst th' applauding throng,
Who sung his Triumphs and proclaim'd aloud
His mighty Deeds on Eyder 's wond'ring Flood:
When num'rous Envoys drawn by Arthur 's fame,
From distant Kingdoms to Augusta came.
Faces so strange, and Habits so unknown,
Had ne'er before pass'd thro' th' admiring Town.
They made their publick Entrys at her Gate
With great Magnificence and Princely State.
They strove in Pomp each other to out-do,
And who should most their Master's Greatness shew.
Thick at the Court did Forreign Lords appear,
Some by Affection brought, but more by Fear.
Some Leagues of lasting Friendship offer'd, some
Did for Protection from Oppressors come:
But all, O Albion , did applaud thy fate
Blest with so just a Prince to guide thy State.

   The Night her Sable Banner did display,
And from the Air to chase the Light away
Drew out her must'ring Shades in black Array:
When Britain 's King dissolv'd in balmy rest
Dismist the Cares of Empire from his Breast.
But Heav'n mean time, which such a Noble Mind
For Dangers, and for glorious toyl design'd,
Did by a Dream sent in the silent Night,
To fresh Heroic Deeds the King excite:
Its Springs divinely touch'd, his lab'ring Brain
Did this Celestial Vision entertain.

   The pious King seem'd in his Dream to stand
On Albion 's Shore , and to the adverse Strand
Looking across the interposing Tyde
Which do's the Briton from the Frank divide,
He saw upon the Beach Sev'n Men appear
Of Noble Form, and more than Vulgar Air.
Advancing to the Margin of the Flood,
And lifting up their hands they cry'd aloud,
Oh, come and help us, come victorious King,
And quick Assistance to th' afflicted bring.
The strong Impression Sleep's soft Fetters broke,
And from his Dream the British King awoke:
Who in his thoughts revolv'd what Heav'n should mean
By this surprizing Visionary Scene.

   When the fair Morn had shot her early ray,
And spread her Purple Loom with dawning Day:
Four Noble Gallic Lords who had surviv'd
King Clotar 's Rage, at Arthur 's Court arriv'd,
To move the Briton 's Pity, and to crave
His mighty Aid their sinking State to save.
Then on his Throne his Scepter in his hand
Great Arthur sate, but first he gave command
That these to have the Audience which they sought,
Before his high Tribunal should be brought.

   Soon as the Franks came onward to relate
King Clotar 's Rage, and Gallia 's wretched fate,
Arthur perceiv d by Face, and Dress, and Mein
That he the Men had in his Vision seen.

   The Gallic Peers advanc'd, and at their head
Great Clovis came in Arms and Suff'rings bred.
So soft his Air, so graceful was his Port,
As he had practis'd nothing but the Court:
And yet so brave in Arms, and so much skill'd,
As he had ne'er been absent from the Field.
He spoke to all the high Concerns of State,
As in the Council he had ever sate,
And when amidst the Men that wore the Gown,
The Schools admir'd, and thought him all their own.
But his Religious Zeal and Pure Belief
Crown'd with Immortal Praise the Pious Chief.
The Noblest British mixt with Gallic Blood
To make th' uncommon Man together flow'd:
For by the Father's he was near ally'd
To Gallia 's King, and by the Mothers side
He from the Catuclanian Princes came
A house in Albion of Illustrious Fame.
He with a Mournful and Pathetic Air
To Britain 's King address'd this humble prayer.

   When Heav'n with deep Compassion mov'd to see
Mankind Destroy'd by raging Tyranny,
Is pleas'd to raise some mighty Chief, to ease
Kingdoms laid wast, and Captives to release;
To pull proud Monarchs and Oppressors down
And Right, and Liberty to re-enthrone;
When such a Gift Divine from Heav'n is sent,
The Poor, th' Opprest, th' Afflicted Innocent
Think they have Right to tell to him their Grief,
And from his generous Arms to crave Relief:
Heros are Blessings on the World bestow'd,
They reap the Honour, but Mankind the Good.

   Torn by a fierce Destroyer's bloody Jaws,
And grip'd between Oppressions Iron Claws,
Tormented with unsufferable Pains,
Bow'd down with Grief, and laden with our Chains,
Low at your feet, we for your Pity cry,
To whom th' Afflicted for Protection fly.
We ask Redress from your Victorious Sword,
To ease sad Gallia 's Realm your Aid afford.
Th' Oppressor Clotar with a cruel hand
Spreads fearful Desolation thro' our Land.
He mocks his Gods, their Laws he disregards,
And scorns alike their Vengeance and Rewards.
Our Noblest Virgins from their Parents torn
Are to his Bed with Barb'rous Outrage born.
In every Town unheard of Rapes asswage
His Lust, as endless Murders do his Rage.
His dreadful Court, like a Cyclopian Den,
Is fill'd with Rapine, and half-eaten Men;
Where lies of mangled Limbs an endless store,
And wide mouth'd Caldrons flow with Humane Gore.
For he his Subjects on his Table sets,
And their raw Limbs (a horrid Banquet) eats:
With Savage Riot on th' unnatural food
He pours down mighty Bowls of reeking Blood.
Pleas'd with the monstrous Luxury he draws
Into a hideous Smile his squallid Jaws.
Vast Magazines appear within his Court
Where Torments are dispos'd of various sort;
Where Cruelty with bloody Trophys crown'd
Views all her Deaths and Tortures spread around:
Wheels, Crosses, Racks by able Masters wrought
Who had with Hellish Skill and anxious thought,
Refin'd Destruction to Perfection brought.
And here their Curst Inventions all remain
Which Death improve, and manage ling'ring Pain.
Th' Oppressor teaches Fate a slower pace,
And rarely gives the Deadly stroke of Grace.
He thinks to those he does Compassion show,
Who die but once, and at a single blow.
His Guards the bloody Servants of his will
With Spoil and Ruin all our Cities fill.
These Ministers of Hell with Sword in hand
Insult our Doors, and all our Wealth demand.
The Farmer sweats and tills in vain the Soil,
These reap the Harvest and enjoy his Toil.
Merchants who Forreign Treasures bring are lost
Upon their own unhospitable Coast.
Those who escape loud Tempests, Rocks, and Waves
Th' inexorable Clotar never saves.
Our Sons and Daughters to the Mountains fly,
Where Grass and Roots their want of Bread supply.
The Men in Heaps are spread upon the Ground,
And half chewn Herbs within their Mouths are found.
Our Towns are Empty, and the tender Grass
Springs in the unfrequented Market-place.
If to our Cruel Masters we complain,
They mock our Suff'rings, and increase our Pain.
Licentious Troops not sparing Sex or Age,
Leave all the marks of their unbridled Rage.
Bloody Assassins force our Doors by Night,
And stab the Children in the Parents sight.
Matrons and Maids together die, when first
They've been dishonor'd by the Murd'rer's Lust.
Some the Destroyer puts off from the Shore
In Barks, without a Rudder Sail or Oar,
To be convey'd, as Winds and Billows please,
'Midst all th' amazing Terrours of the Seas.
Some Gally Slaves with Endless labour sweat,
And on the Ocean's back their strokes repeat,
While from their cruel Masters they receive
More frequent wounds, than to the Seas they give.
The Christians are in Christian Temples slain,
And the Priest's blood do's his own Altar stain.
Some doom'd in Mines to subterranean toyl,
Enrich th' Oppressor with the wealthy spoil.
To Prisons some are drag'd in pondrous chains,
Where Ruffians Whips inflict tormenting pains.
In Dungeons some 'midst loathsom Vermin lie,
Some by the Rack, some by the Jav'lin die.
Thy Nero 's and thy Maximins, O Rome ,
And all the Spoilers which thy savage womb
Fruitful of Monsters ever yet brought forth,
Are all out-done by Clotar 's single birth.
His unexampled Cruelties surpass
The Deeds of all thy Persecuting Race.
Ages to come will their weak Rage forget,
And only Clotar 's Violence repeat.
They seem'd contented only to destroy,
And Death and Torment did their Fury cloy.
But none of all th' Inexorable kind
With Clotar 's Genius Cruelty refin'd:
No Master Tyrant had so vast a reach
To find new Plagues, none so much Zeal to teach
His Ministers strange Methods to destroy,
None e'er before with such transporting joy
O'er tortur'd Innocents insulting stood,
None with such Pleasure bath'd himself in blood,
Or in Tormenting e'er such Judgment show'd.
What Monarch e'er before stood scoffing by,
To see his Subjects in slow Torments dy,
And told the Suff'rers there was no pretence
To blame such soft and gentle Violence:
Such mild inlight'ning Pains, that might display
O'er their Erroneous Minds Celestial Day.
All who these barb'rous Cruelties survive,
The bloody Ruffians to their Altar drive;
Down their Reluctant throats they thrust the Meat,
And force them of their Sacrifice to eat.
Conversions are by Arm'd Invaders made,
Who with resistless Arguments perswade:
Who for Conviction shed the People's blood
And ruin wretched Mortals for their Good.
The mocking Hypocrite's unjust pretence
Is, to reduce by Racks and Violence
Perverted Judgments to a righter Sense.
The Converts of the Sword Complyance show,
And full of horrour to their Idols bow;
By this they hope the Conq'rour's Sword to stay,
And to secure their Lives their Faith betray:
But that infernal Malice may be cloy'd,
That Soul and Body both may be destroy'd,
The Cruel Infidel with Sword in hand
O'er the new Convert do's triumphant stand:
Then in his Bowels do's the Weapon sheath,
Who loses both his Innocence and Breath,
Rack'd with the torments of Despair and Death.
Some sore distrest to Wilds and Desarts fly,
In Caves and Rocks, in Woods and Mountains ly.
While, like the Jews abandon'd Nation, some
Thro' Forreign Regions poor and naked roam.
What Kingdom is not conscious of our Moans?
Who have not seen our Tears, or heard our Groans?
Do's the laborious Sun survey a Soil,
In his Diurnal, or his Annual toil,
Which to our Fugitives ne'er gave Relief,
And never entertain'd our wandring Grief.

   This is the Gallic Christians wretched fate,
Which not the liv'liest Accents can relate.
And now the Moon twice dips her silver horns,
And with fresh rays her changing face adorns;
Since I, and these sad Friends together met,
Resolving from Lutetia to retreat,
And seek in Forreign Climes a milder seat.
Then while our Country's fate we did lament,
And flowing Tears gave to our sorrow vent;
A glorious Form like some Inferior God,
Newly descended from his blest abode
Entring the Room, Celestial Lustre spread
From his Immortal Eyes, and radiant Head.
A Heav'nly bloom adorn'd his youthful Face,
And Starry Robes did his bright Limbs embrace:
When first the Lovely Stranger did appear,
We bow'd with Rev'rence, and we shook with fear.
Then strait th' Illustrious Person silence broke,
And thus my trembling Friends and me bespoke.

   The God who rules as well the spacious Sky,
As this low Ball, who from his Throne on high
Encompass'd with impenetrable Day,
Do's all his Worlds with one quick glance survey;
Who loves the Proud and Haughty to debase,
And sets the Meek and Humble in their place;
Touch'd with Compassion hears your mournful Crys,
Which mixt with dying groans to Heav'n arise.
He now Decrees th' Oppressor Clotar 's fall,
Whose full grown Crimes for swift Destruction call:
For tho' his Vengefull Thunder rises slow,
'Tis to discharge a more tremendous blow.
Indulgent Heav'n by Arthur 's hand has broke
Britannia 's Fetters, and Tyrannic Yoke.
His Pious Arms shall ease Lutetia 's Pains,
Release her Sons, and break their pondrous Chains.
This Great Deliv'rer shall Europa save,
Which haughty Monarchs labour to enslave.
Then shall Religion reer her starry head,
And Light Divine o'er all the Nations spread.
Quickly embark and steer for Albion 's Shore
To seek King Arthur, and his Aid implore.
Your prayer shall move, that Pity in his breast,
Which shall engage his Arms to give you rest.
He said, and strait the glorious Youth withdrew,
Display'd his shining Wings, and Upward flew.

   Cheer'd with his words we with our utmost care
Did all things for the Voyage soon prepare.
When thrice the Sun had his mild splendor shed,
And o'er the East Etherial purple spred:
We all embarkt, and soon to Albion 's Coast
Born with a prosp'rous Gale the Ocean crost.
Thus the Celestial Message we obey'd,
Sent by Supream Command, to crave your Aid.

      He ceas'd. King Arthur carefully supprest
The generous Passion struggling in his breast.
He look'd on this as on a Call Divine
Which did this noble Enterprize enjoyn,
The Gallic Christians Freedom to restore,
And give that Aid the Suff'rers did implore.
Then to the Franks the Briton thus reply'd,
Your Prayer is neither granted, nor deny'd:
What you have now propos'd I'll duly weigh,
And then my Answer give without delay.
The Franks withdrawn, the Hero order gave
That Neustria 's Lords should next Admission have:
Soon as the Monarch did the Neustrians see,
He strait discern'd these were the other three,
Who in the Heav'nly Dream the Night before
To give them Aid his Pity did implore.
They to the Throne advanc'd when thus begun
Wise Oleron Giranda 's Noble Son.

      Victorious Prince!
We know what Miracles your Arms have shown
In Neustria 's Soil, what greater in your own.
From East to West loud fame extends her Wings,
And thro' th' applauding World your triumph sings.
Your mighty Deeds by wondring Moors are nam'd,
From Zone to Zone, from Pole to Pole proclaim'd.
Commiseration fills your Pious Breast
To wretched States by heavy Yokes opprest.
Mov'd by the groans of dying Liberty,
You arm'd to set afflicted Europe free.
You are by Heav'n a great Deliverer sent,
The World's entire Destruction to prevent.
Empires from Desolation to secure,
From savage Rage, and wild unbounded Power.
From all the dire Calamities that reign
Where no fixt Laws th' Oppressor's Lust restrain.
The wasted World has long with servent Crys,
With groans, and tears sollicited the Skys,
To give fierce Tyranny a fatal stroke,
To break her Murd'ring Teeth, and Iron Yoke:
With th' universal prayer kind Heav'n complies,
Causing so great a Monarch to arise,
Whose Soul is bent to stay the Fury's course,
And whose Herculean Arm alone exceeds her force.
In vain with rage her turgid Volumes swell,
In vain around her womb her Monsters Yell,
You all the Hydra's hissing heads despise,
All her wide Jaws, sharp Tongues, and fiery Eyes.
Your mighty Arm will give the deadly wound,
And leave th' expiring Monster on the ground.
Fertile in Death your Sword Destruction spreads
Fast as her fruitful Necks can bring forth heads.
Besides you lead a Nation brave in Fight
Pleas'd to procure to injur'd States their Right.
When such a Prince with such a People takes
The Field in arms, the pale Oppressor shakes.
In Liberty's defence the warmest Zeal
The nobly Jealous Britons still reveal;
Asserting with their Lives her sacred Cause,
They justly gain th' admiring World's applause.
While neigh'bring Nations Tyrants never check,
But bow to take the Yoke, their passive Neck;
The Britons stem Ambitions rapid course,
Defeating secret frauds, and open force.
Designing Princes still they have withstood,
To Guard the Rights, bought by their Fathers Blood
But Liberty which they to Life prefer,
Could not escape the Saxon Ravisher.
Rifled and spoil'd of all her Heav'nly Charms,
She had expir'd in the rough Conq'rour's Arms;
And Albion soon had shar'd her Neighbours fate,
And felt the Mischiefs of a slavish State:
Had not your generous Arms and noble Toyl,
Sav'd from Destruction this despairing Isle.
Had you not chas'd Tyrannic Lords away,
And from their griping Arms releas'd the trembling Prey.
Blest Isle! that in the lowest Ebb of fate,
Found this strong Arm to prop her sinking State.
Happy Britannia, did thy Sons but know,
What to their brave Deliverer they owe!

   And now, Dread Monarch, whose victorious Arms
Have freed Britannia from her Foes alarms;
Whose great Example do's her Sons inflame
To aim at Glory, and their ancient Fame;
Unhappy Neustria by her Prince betray'd,
Implores Deliv'rance from your pow'rful Aid.
Scarce had you sail'd from grateful Neustria 's Shore,
Which ne'er receiv'd so great a Guest before,
Where first your Sword Immortal Laurels won,
And the first Triumphs of your Youth begun:
When suddain Death, King Odar did remove,
From Neustria 's throne to the blest Seats above.
Sardan his Brother to his Crown Succeeds,
Not to his Vertues, and Illustrious Deeds.
This Prince Luxurious, and Effeminate,
Averse to Arms, and Business of the State,
Do's Vertue more than Arms, or Business hate.
Uninterupted Riots only please.
His Mind dissolv'd in long inglorious Ease.
While Neighb'ring Kings their Course of Glory run,
With Laurels crown'd from Vanquish'd Nations won:
Ours Baccanalian wreaths can only boast,
Only the Triumphs of his mighty Lust.
Our Wives and Noblest Virgins are abus'd,
Compell'd by force, or by his wiles seduc'd.
Lascivious Concubines their Prince surround,
They're in his Bed, and in his Counsels found.
These Female Ministers by turns create
Our Judges, Captains, Officers of State:
Our Priests themselves their vile submission make
To the soft Fav'rites, for Promotion's sake.
Jesters for Statsemen in his Council sit,
Not chosen for their Wisdom, but their Wit;
Empty Buffoons, unequal to the weight
Of all th' important Business of the State.
Those Ministers he thinks can serve him best,
Who flatter most, and know their Business least:
Who all Debates to please their Prince decide,
And from the People's Intrest, his divide.
This feeble Race attends this Monarch's Throne,
Whose Wit and Vice resemble most his own.
Th' Augean Stables, cleaner than the Court,
Whither the Vicious and the Lewd resort;
Th' infectious Plague by Sardan 's Influence fed,
Do's o'er our Noble Youth resistless spred.
Poets the most Flagitious, and Prophane,
Neustria e'er fed, his bounty do's maintain.
Who by their Wit procure to Vice applause,
And loud Derision draw on Vertue's Cause.
They easy Nature with fit Baits excite,
And Youth to Crimes too prone before, invite.
By artful Eloquence they strive to show
Those Pleasures Lawful, which they wish were so.
Against their Country they their Wit engage,
Refine our Language, but corrupt the Age.
Our Noble Youth enervated with Vice,
Abhor the Field and Martial Fame despise.
The Sacred Muses, and the Letter'd Train
They Mock, and Camps and Schools alike disdain.
Riot, Debauch, Masks and Unmanly Sport,
Are all the Triumphs our soft Hero's Court.
Sardan all marks of Lust of Empire gave;
None more desir'd his Country to Enslave:
But the designing Monarch was afraid
With open force, our Freedom to invade.
His want of Courage his Ambition checkt,
And his strong Fears his People did Protect.
Oft on the Banks of Rubicon he stood,
But ne'er was bold enough to leap the Flood:
But that with crafty Arts he might prevail,
And undermine the Fort, he durst not Scale:
That those he could not force he might decoy,
He labour'd Neustria 's Vertue to destroy.
His great design was to Emasculate
Our Martial Youth, and then destroy the State.
Thus he believ'd he might Neustrasia bring,
Beneath the Yoke of Gaul 's aspiring King.
Whose growing Power he did with pleasure view,
And gave him Aid his Neighbours to subdue.
Whence he contracted Everlasting Shame,
And future Ages must despise his name.
So ill he wish'd to the Neustrasian State,
So much he courted Clotar 's prosp'rous Fate,
That to advance the Triumphs of his Crown,
He sacrific'd the Int'rests of his own.
He therefore sent to Clotar to demand,
A force sufficient to subdue the Land.
Clotar whose num'rous Armys ready lay,
Watching a season fit to seize the Prey,
Invades our Coasts, and soon was Master made
Of our strong Places to his hands betray'd.
Thus did he force Neustrasia to obey
A Neighb'ring Monarch's Arbitrary Sway.
Sardan was pleas'd so Neustria was undone
To wear himself a Tributary Crown.
Since that, our Land the worst of Plagues torment,
Which Power could e'er inflict, or Wit invent.
This mighty Prince is our Afflicted State,
These the deep Suff'rings, which our Grief create.

   We pray by that Immortal Fame you won,
By all your Wonders in Neustrasia done:
We pray by yours, we pray by Odar 's name,
And by your ancient Friendship's sacred flame:
To Neustria 's Sons their ravish'd Rights restore,
And free her Soil from cruel Clotar 's Power.
From her gaul'd Neck remove th' uneasy Yoke,
Only by Valiant Arthur to be broke.

   He ceas'd. The King from his high Throne descends,
Mov'd with Compassion to his ancient Friends.
Declaring e'er he rose, he would prepare
A speedy answer to th' important prayer.

   Twice on the World the Sun his beams bestow'd,
And twice his glorious tyde had ebb'd, and flow'd:
When Franks and Neustrians at the King's Command
Call'd to attend before his Throne did stand,
The Pious Monarch this kind answer made
To these sad Strangers who had crav'd his aid.
The Christians Suff'rings by Tyrannic might
Against the Laws of Heav'n, and civil Right,
All who with kindly to Mankind lament,
And Christian Kings more deeply must resent.
My Troops I'll therefore for the Neustrian Shore
Embark, your Rights and Freedoms to restore.
Where if propitious Heav'n affords us Aid,
Our Arms shall next the haughty Frank invade.

   He ceas'd, the Captains did for Arms declare
Nobly impatient of the Righteous War.
Heroic Ardor all their Vitals warm'd,
And on the Plains the must'ring Cohorts swarm'd.
A War with Gaul so much, so long desir'd
The joyful Britons with fresh Life inspir'd.
Long had they wish'd to see on Britain 's Throne
A warlike Prince, one that himself would own
To be the Christians chief Protecting Head,
Who would the British Troops to Gallia lead .
Indulgent Heav'n at last their wishes grants,
Raising a Prince who answers all their wants.
One that to Albion 's eager Youth will show
The Gallic Fields, and their old haughty Foe.
Each brandishes his Spear, his Fauchion weilds,
And seems already in Lutetia 's Fields.
The Noise of Arms and marching Soldiers toyl
And Warlike Preparations fill the Isle.
The Trumpet's Voice do's Britain 's Sons excite,
And waving Banners to the Field invite.
The Shepherd on the Hills his Flock forsakes,
Casts by his Crook, and the bright Javelin takes.
The Husbandman do's from his labour leap,
To plough the Seas, and Gallic Laurels reap.
He beats his Ploughshares into Helms and Shields,
Deserts his Harvest, and his flowry Fields,
Neglects his Tillage, and his Rural Gains,
To plant with British Spears Parisian Plains.
The Lords forsake their Woods, and Sylvan Sport,
And from the Forrest to the Camp resort.
They leave the Mountains, and the flying Game
To follow Honour, and Immortal Fame.
Some few Inglorious Youths for Arms unfit
Refus'd the Pleasures of the Stage to quit.
Who only War in Theaters have seen,
And Camps and Battles only on the Scene.
Fit only shows and Laurels to prepare
For Arthur come victorious from the War:
To run, and shout amidst th' applauding throng,
As Britain 's Sons in Triumph pass along.
Refulgent Arms Augusta 's Merchants weild
And to the busy Change prefer the Field.
These brave Adventurers in the noble War,
Will Honour fetch, as well as Wealth from far.
Some mount their Steeds, and to the Field advance,
Some shake the Spear, and some the Warlike Lance.
Part arm'd with feather'd Death their Quivers throw
Across their Shoulders, and new string their Bow.
Some round their Necks the martial Coslet clasp,
Some the broad Shield, and glitt'ring Javelin grasp.
Part on their heads the burnish'd Helmet lace,
And all in Plate their vig'rous Limbs encase.

   The Royal Fleet with equal hast and care,
The rigid Captains of the Sea prepare.
The craggy Rocks and crooked Shores around
With labour, and promiscuous crys resound.
The Saylor's toil fills every Beach and Strand,
And the Sea-Clamours vye with those by Land.
Some from their Magazines draw Naval Stores,
Long trembling Masts, and Cordage to the Shores.
Some in the Hills with loud repeated strokes,
Dismember nodding Pines and groaning Oaks.
The lifted Axe thro' all the Mountain sounds
To heal the Navy's with the Forest's Wounds.
For Masts, and Planks, they fell the fairest Trees,
The rest, for supplemental Ribs and Knees.
They draw the Spoils from the dishonour'd Wood,
Whose Trees, that once fixt and unshaken stood,
Must now find Wings to fly upon the Flood.
Some from wide Bellows mouths whole Tempests blow,
To make vast Anchors in the Forges glow;
Then choak'd with flame and smoke, and smear'd with sweat,
Vulcanian Youth the Red-hot Iron beat.
Some on the Strand Careen, and fresh adorn
The Ships grown foul, and with their labour worn.
Some new ones Launch, which with surprising Art
From all their Bands, and Wooden Fetters start:
They break away, and from their Cradles flee
Now to be rock'd upon the restless Sea.
Some carry Arms, and Warlike Stores aboard,
Some in the Ship's deep Caves Provisions hoard.
Whole Herds of fatted Swine and Oxen dy,
The Ships capacious Bellys to supply,
Furnish'd by old Polcaran 's toilsom care,
The first that cloy'd the hungry mouth of War.

   Then all th' expected Equipage on Board,
Their Topsails loos'd, and all the Ships unmoor'd;
The Royal Navy on the Billows rode,
And prest with heavy War th' uneasie Flood.
The fierce Commanders stand in awful State,
On their high Decks, and Arthur 's coming wait.
The Monarch with his valiant Troops arrives,
And strait t' embark his Army order gives.
The British Cohorts at the King's Command,
Mount their tall Ships, and long for Neustrian Land.
Loud Boreas to extend the spacious Sails,
From Northern Prisons frees his chosen Gales,
All bold and vig'rous, and refresh'd with ease,
All vers'd in toil, and conscious of the Seas.
These swell the Canvass with their utmost force,
And strait to Neustria 's Shore direct their course.
The panting Winds to shove the Navy strain,
And of the Squadrons weight in Sighs complain,
The Labour of the Air, and Burden of the Main.
The bounding Castles on the Billows dance,
And in long Order on the Deep advance.
While wanton Dolphins round the Squadrons play,
And sporting Course each other o'er the Sea.
Huge Porpoises and the great Lords that reign
O'er all the Scaly People of the Main,
Attend the Navy with an endless train.
The Finny Murd'rers that the Deep infest,
Forsake their Prey, and give the Ocean rest:
While they at distance gaze, and fawning roll
To Court the Prince who do's their Seas controul;
Fearing the great Deliv'rer came to free
The watry Nations too from Tyranny.

   On the high Cliffs in throngs the Neustrians stood,
And on the Sandy Margin of the Flood,
Advanc'd, as far as Waves permit, to meet
Europe 's Restorer and his Potent Fleet.
And when they saw, the Navy under Sail
Advancing to them with a prosp'rous Gale,
With such loud Shouts they made the Mountains ring,
As sunk the Winds which should their wishes bring.
So Thund'ring Cannons, when two Fleets engage,
With their loud roar the angry Seas asswage,
Awe list'ning Winds, and calm their weaker rage.
King Arthur 's Navy made the Neustrian Land,
And strait the Britons leap'd upon the Strand:
Their warlike Ensigns on the Hills display'd
Declare th' arrival of th' expected Aid.

   Now Muse the Names of those great Hero's sing,
And mighty Chiefs, who with the British King
On this illustrious Expedition went,
And pitch'd in Neustrian Fields the warlike Tent.

    Shobar was first, sprung from a Noble Line,
Which dwelt upon the Banks of rapid Rhine .
His martial Genius early did appear,
Danger he knew, but knew not how to fear.
Eager of fame he fought with studious care
Battles, and Camps, and all the Seats of War.
His valiant Deeds won Universal Fame,
And every Soil his Triumphs did proclaim.
His mighty Name was thro' Europa spread,
All Armys strove to have him for their head,
For those were sure of Conquest, which he led.
A noble Fire did in his Veins abide,
And the severest Wisdom was its Guide.
His Camp the only School of War was thought,
Which all young Hero's for Instruction sought,
For none had Martial Art to such Perfection brought.
But worn with Labour, Battles, Camps, and Age
The Hoary Warriour left the bloody Stage.
Back to his Fields, and Rural Seat he came
Laden with Laurels and Immortal Fame.
Resolving, far remov'd from noise and strife,
To spend in Peace his short Remains of Life.
But when he heard how Arthur 's Arms were prais'd,
And what a great Restorer Heav'n had rais'd,
Nations oppress'd from Bondage to release,
And to procure to suff'ring Christians, Ease,
The Pious Chief resumes his Sword and Shield,
And once again resolves to take the Field.
The ancient Warriour felt a youthful flame,
And from the Rhine to find King Arthur came.
Arthur who knew what Deeds he had atchiev'd,
With high respect the brave Old Man receiv'd.
He always to his Counsels did attend,
Call'd him his Father, and his Faithful Friend.

   Next mighty Solmar who was near ally'd
To pious Arthur by the Mother's side;
Who by his Strength and Skill in Arms had won
Authority, Esteem, and great Renown,
Brother to Meridoc, of glorious fame
With th' Ordovician youth to Arthur came,

   Next faithful Lucius Arthur 's fav'rite Knight,
An able Statesman, and as brave in Fight.
Who from his Youth his Monarch serv'd and lov'd,
And in the greatest Streights his Zeal approv'd,
No Servant from a Monarch e'er before
Receiv'd more Love, and none deserv'd it more;
He the Silures from their Country led,
O'er whom the King had plac'd him as their head.

   The stout Cornavians to engage the Foes,
The Region left where fam'd Sabrina flows.
The fertile Soil where Etocetum stands,
And which obeys Branonium 's high Commands.
Some left Presidium still a noble Town,
And the rich Soil, that did her Empire own.
And some the Citys, that on Dovus lay,
And where fair Deva do's her Streams convey,
Thro' smiling Vallys to th' Hibernian Sea.
The Atrebatian and Dobunian Lords
Brought their Battalions from Sabrina 's Fords.
And from the Soil where Ouze and Tama meet,
The Muses Garden now, and high Imperial Seat:
Prince Osor worthy of his noble Line,
Whose mighty Deeds in Albion 's story shine,
Warm with a generous and Heroic flame,
Fearless of Death, and fond of warlike Fame,
Zealous to give the suff'ring Christian rest,
To break th' Oppressor, and defend th' Opprest
Into the field these Various Nations brought,
Who arm'd with Spears, and Battle Axes fought.
Osor so high in Arthur 's Favour stood
For Martial Vertue, and Illustrious Blood,
That he the Youth to ancient Chiefs prefer'd,
And Gen'ral of the Cavalry declar'd.

    Malgo King Arthur 's Master of the Horse
Fam'd for his Courage, and his wondrous force,
Whose Courteous Manners and Deportment won
No less Applauses, than his Sword had done,
The brave Dimetians to the Army led,
All valiant Troops to warlike labour bred.
The Trinobantes with the Region blest,
Which the Victorious Saxon once possest,
Left the Delightful Banks of Thamisis ,
The Seat of Plenty and Terrestrial Bliss.
They left Augusta which by Arthur 's Sword
To Truth divine, to Right, and Law restor'd,
From Pagan Gods, and from th' Oppressor freed,
Reer'd up to Heav'n her high Imperial head:
For stately Domes and lofty Tow'rs renown'd,
With Arts and Arms, and Wealth and Empire crown'd.
Capellan valu'd for his Youthful Charms,
For his high Birth, and forward Zeal in Arms:
The warlike Deeds of whose Illustrious Line,
As well as Suff'rings, in our Annals shine,
Into the field the Trinobantes led,
And shone in splendid Armour at their head.
Some bore the glitt'ring Spear, and some the Bow
All bold in Arms, and pleas'd to meet the Foe.

   The warlike Youth rul'd by Icenian Lords,
Some arm'd with Halberts, some with two edg'd Swords,
Left all the Citys which adorn the Coast,
Where the Germanic Ocean's waves are tost.
The Catuclaxian Cohorts left the Soil,
That lay the inmost of the British Isle.
Those who in Lactodorum did reside,
Which Usa 's Stream did in the midst divide.
And those who all the Region round possest
Adorn'd with Citys, and with Riches blest.
These valiant Squadrons arm'd with Slings and Bows,
Brave Talmar led to charge the Gallic Foes.
A truly martial, but impetuous Fire
Did with immoderate heat his breast inspire.
Nobly impatient of unbounded Power,
He strove Britannia 's Freedom to secure.
A brave Assertor of her ancient Laws,
Of Pious Arthur 's, and the Christian Cause.
Onwards he always prest, and Danger sought,
Patient of toyl, and fearless to a fau't.
His Courteous Manners, easy, free Address,
Th' indulgent care he did for all express
Providing due supplys for all their Wants,
And kindly hearing all their just Complaints.
Made the brave Chief the British Youths Delight
Of Arthur 's Camp the most applauded Knight.

   The Ottadenians left Alaunus flood,
Near which the famous Roman Bullwark stood,
Rais'd with prodigious labour to protect
The Frontier, from th' Jernian , and the Pict .
With these the stout Brigantes who confin'd
On th' Ottadenian Towns, their Ensigns joyn'd.
They from Galatum on Ituna 's Stream,
And from delightful Aballaba came
With these appear'd the fierce Arbeian Youth,
And those who dwelt near Moricambe 's Mouth.
Fair Gabrosentum did her Squadrons send,
As did the Towns that on her Power depend.
The Troops Mancunium left, and all the Fields
To which Merseia verdant Riches yields.

   These Maca led a Caledonian Knight,
Long vers'd in Arms, Sedate, yet brave in Fight.
He still advanc'd by Military Rule,
Vig'rous in Action, but in Counsel cool.
He all the British Captains did out-shine
For pure Devotion, Zeal and Love divine.
Just, Upright, Faithful, and with Vice unstain'd
Eu'n in a Camp the Pious Chief remain'd:
And nobler heats Religion do's inspire,
Than what from Honour spring, and native Fire.
These aim at transient Empire and Renown,
But those at Heav'n, and an Immortal Crown.

    Coril a valiant Durotrigian Knight,
Who ever made the Camp his chief delight;
A great Commander, to the Soldier dear,
Void of all Pride, uncapable of Fear,
Brought his bold Troops from Durnavaria 's Fields,
With mighty Fauchions Arm'd, and spacious Shields.

   The Regnian Troops came from the Hilly Land,
Which lies direct against the Neustrian Strand.
From all the Citys, Castles, and the Towns,
Or in the Vales, or in the airy Downs
Which stretch on great Augusta 's Southern side,
Between the Ocean, and fair Isis tyde.
With these the Belgian Britons did unite,
Who did in Battles and in Camps delight.
These came from Venta, and the Citys found
On the delightful Plains which lye around.
Great Cutar Viceroy of fair Vecta 's Isle,
Brought these Battalions from their native Soil.
A generous Impulse, and a noble Flame
Urg'd the brave Man to seek Immortal Fame.
Ravish'd with War's and Danger's horrid Charms,
He with impetuous Ardor flew to Arms.
Triumphant Conquerors with their Laurels crown'd,
Not more delight, than he in Combate found.
He midst the Foe the hottest Battle sought,
And grown with Death familiar, fearless fought.
His strong desire of Arms was never cloy'd,
With such a Relish Danger he enjoy'd.
Soon as the rang'd Battalions came in sight,
He felt fierce Joy, and terrible Delight,
And shudder'd with his eagerness to Fight.
What flames flew from his Eyes, when he from far
View'd the sowr Brows, and murth'ring Jaws of War?
He midst the Heros was for Valour fam'd,
And midst the Bards, with envy'd Honour nam'd.
He by his matchless Song, as well as Sword
The Laurel gain'd, and loud Applause procur'd.

   The Cangian Britons left the wealthy Soil,
Which with abundance crowns the Farmer's toil.
Where fair Uzella rolls her noble tyde,
And o'er the Meads unfolds her silver pride.
They left the Citys rais'd on Thona 's flood,
And on the Fields round Coitmaur 's spacious Wood.
From all the Towns round airy Camelet ,
Which bears the name even now, of Arthur 's seat;
Where winding Bruis with her lazy Stream
Surrounds Glascona 's Isle, where antient fame
Has plac'd the Seat of th' Arimathean Saint,
Who first in Albion did Religion plant:
Which do's with pious Sepulchers abound,
And where King Arthur 's blest Remains were found.
From high Mendippa and the spacious Plains
Blest with rich Entrails, and Metallic veins.
Where rapid Floods flow roaring under ground,
Where the fam'd Grotto Ochi Hol is found;
Which do's Parthenope all thine out-do,
That of Lucullus, and the Sybils too.
The warlike Youth from Aqua Solis came,
Whose wholsom Baths give Sinews to the Lame.
Their Healing Power the wise affirm proceeds,
From unform'd Minerals, and Metallic Seeds,
Which wash'd away from Subterranean Caves
Impregnate with their Heat the flowing Waves.
Whether these Seeds which in the Water strive,
Or some good Angel do's the Vertue give,
'Tis sure that Health and Vigour they impart
Above the reach of Æsculapian Art.
Witness the Spoils and Trophys which are shown
From vanquish'd Death, and from Diseases won.
Erla of Lands of great extent possest,
With Ease, with Honour, with Abundance blest,
By Pity mov'd, and martial Ardor warm'd,
To aid th' opprest Lutetian Christians Arm'd.
For Danger, and for Honourable toil
He left his Ease, his Wealth, and Native Soil.

   The bold Danmonians did attend their Lord,
Each took his Shield and wav'd his threat'ning Sword.
Active and vig'rous they advanc'd their Names
By Wrestling, Whorlbat, old Heroic Games.
They left the Southern, and the Northern Shore,
Where British Seas, or where th' Hibernian roar.
Th' undaunted Youth from fair Tamara came,
And from the Flood that gave the Town its name.
They left Voluba, and Cenonis Mouth,
The most applauded Haven of the South.
They left the Banks of Isca and the Town
For Commerce, Wealth, and Power, of great renown.
These mighty Men to warlike labour bred,
Came from their hilly Land by Trelon led.
For old indulgent Cador at his Death
To Pious Arthur did his Realm bequeath.
Viceroy of which King Arthur Trelon made,
Whom the Danmonians as their Head obey'd.
His Martial Vertue do's in Story Shine,
A Vertue common to his ancient Line:
For Trelon 's Noble House was so renown'd,
For mighty Deeds, that none was ever found
Who wanted Valour, or did e'er debase
By one inglorious Deed the Martial Race!
True Eagles they, when Infants, could behold
A Burnish'd Helm, or blazing Shield of Gold:
Ev'n then no horrid object mov'd their fear,
And their first play was with a Sword, or Spear.

   The Coritanians left the Towns that stood,
Along the Banks of swift Aufona 's flood.
Their Squadrons left the fat and fertile Land,
Where Verometum 's Tow'rs and Raga 's stand.
Where Margidunum from the Mountain's brow
Proudly surveys the wide stretcht Vale below.
Where Lindum reers her antient, awful head,
By all the Fenny Region round obey'd.
Where famous Pontis stood an ancient Town
By Roman Coins and checker'd Pavements known:
Brave Stannel patient of Heroic toil,
Sprung from a Race of Kings whom Mona 's Isle
Insulted by the wild Hibernian Sea,
But blest with temp'rate Empire, did obey:
Who always for his Country bravely fought,
To Neustrian Fields the Coritanians brought.

   The valiant Youth advanc'd their warlike Ranks
From noble Abum's , and Darventio 's Banks.
Some from Calcaria came, from Danum some,
Some from the Tow'rs of high Eboracum .
Gotric a Chief Majestic, Awful, Grave,
Wise in the Senate, and in Battle brave;
Of unstain'd Honour, and uncommon worth,
Brought in these bold Brigantes from the North.
All Men of Courage and of subtile Wit,
All for the Camp, and some for Counsel fit.

   The warlike Squadrons from Meldunum came,
Almost encompass'd by Antona 's Stream.
From old Verlucio, and the fertile Land,
Where Leckham now, and ancient Cosam stand:
Cosam, with Plenty blest and temp'rate Air,
To me a Soil above all others dear.
The valiant Youth from Sorbiodunum came,
Of all their Towns the Chief, in Power and Fame.
Whose gilded Domes and Towers amidst the Sky,
With all but those of great Augusta vy.
Around her Walls lie stretcht the famous Plains,
Which Eccho with the toil of joyful Swains,
Where happy Shepherds with more Flocks are blest,
Than the Sicilian Mountains e'er possest;
Who fill the Air with loud, and sweeter Lays
Than those which once did fam'd Arcadia raise.
They left the Bourns, and all the fertile Plain
Where the high Monument do's still remain
Of Albion 's Lords by Saxon Treach'ry slain.
An awful Pile wondrous in every part,
Not wholly wrought by Nature, nor by Art.
The Stones are all of such prodigious weight,
And raise their heads to such amazing height,
Such is the Structure's rude Magnificence,
And proud Disorder, that it makes pretence
To be Gigantic work, wherein are shown
High Rocks on Rocks with careless labour thrown.
Where now th' admiring Trav'ller may behold
What mighty Men Britannia bred of Old.
They left Cunetio still a noble Town
Rais'd on a fair, delightful, spacious Down,
Which over-looks the Vale, whose fruitful Crops
Out-do the greedy Farmer's utmost hopes.
Vebba a Cangian Chief of great Renown,
Who by his Arms had frequent Laurels won;
A Leader worthy of the high Command,
Brought to King Arthur 's Camp this Cangian Band
These mighty Warriors from the British Isle,
Attended Arthur to his Foreign toil.


   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 Death 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 Death 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 passage 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 Passion 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 pass?
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' assert 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 Death, 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 skill 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 assisted 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'assault 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 pass!
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 massy 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 assail'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 skill 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, assault, 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 massy 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 Skill 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' assert 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 Massy 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 Kill.

    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 Vadicassian 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 surpass
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, Nassovian 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 Carcassum 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 Assassins 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 Rhodanus 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 kill, and to be kill'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 massy 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.


   Mean time the Prince of Darkness flew away,
To send fierce Discord to the Coasts of Day.
Far on th' Infernal Frontiers near the Shore,
On which th' insulting Waves of Chaos roar;
The utmost limits of Tartarean ground,
Which Hell's dark Realms from Night and Chaos bound;
There stands a high and craggy Cliff that braves
The neighb'ring Tempests and tumultuous Waves.
On this sharp Rock did the dire Fiend remain
Bound with a vast, unweildy, brazen chain.
Whose hideous yellings did the Deep affright,
And interrupt the Peace of lonesome Night.
A Thousand horrid Mouths the Monster show'd,
And each had twenty Tongues, all fierce and loud.
Her bloody Jaws did her lean Limbs devour,
And from her wounds she drank the flowing Gore.
With her sharp Claws she did her Entrails tear,
And from her head pull'd off her Snaky hair.
The Breath she Belch'd out with a fearful sound,
Made Storms and Whirlwinds in the Air around,
Her glaring, fierce, mis-plac'd, distorted Eyes,
Like adverse Meteors flaming in the Skys,
Their fiery Orbs against each other turn'd,
Tremendous in their bloody Circles burn'd.
So glows the Furnace which the flowing Mass
Of liquid Flints, transforms to Crystal Glass.
Round her foul wast a thousand Monsters rag'd,
A dreadful sight, in endless Strife engag'd.
Some Serpent like their spotted Volumns roll'd,
Some a Cerberean Offspring grinn'd and howl'd.
Like Lyons some, like Tygers some appear'd,
And part their hissing heads like Hydras reer'd.
Part Leopards seem'd, part were of Vulture Kind,
Part seem'd for pois'nous Basilisks design'd.
Some were an odious Harpy-footed Race,
Some Dragons Tails joyn'd to a Gorgon 's face.
Some blended Forms did compound Horrour show,
Such as from foul unnatural Mixtures flow,
When all the various Beasts of Lybia meet
At some refreshing Spring to cool their heat.
Where Lyons, Bears, and all the Savage Kind
A horrid Congress, are in Friendship joyn'd;
And when the Stream has quench'd their burning Thirst,
Form dire Conceptions with promiscuous Lust.
These all each other, and their Parent tear,
And rend her Bowels with Eternal War.
Raving and restless on the Rock she turn'd,
And with her Feet her massy Fetters spurn'd.
Her Parent Ignorance close by her stood,
And from her Breast squeez'd Juice like blackish blood,
Her hateful Offspring's most delicious food.
A formidable Figure black as night,
That does in Shades and Labyrinths delight,
Exceeding fierce, but destitute of sight.
A crowd of howling Hellhounds round her staid,
All hideous Forms that her Commands obey'd.
Contention, Zeal, Inexorable Rage,
And Strife that wretched Men in Arms engage.
Various Division, Malice, deadly Hate,
That rend a Kingdom, and dissolve a State.
With these a cursed Figure did attend
Ecclesiastic Wrath, a furious Fiend
That did the rest in Cruelty surpass,
Deform'd beyond the whole Infernal Race.

   Swift as exploded Light'ning thro' the Sky,
To this wild Rock did Hell's proud Monarch fly.
The Fiends, as he alighted on the place,
Before him bow'd with awkard, horrid Grace.
Strait with his hands the brazen Chain he broke,
And then the raging Fury thus bespoke.
Thou by whose Aid, we founded first our State,
Who didst these gloomy Seats of Death create,
Of whose great Power all Nature stands afraid,
Hither I come to ask thy speedy Aid.
The British King th' invet'rate Foe of Hell,
By whose prevailing Arms the Saxon fell,
Musters in Gallic Fields his British Ranks,
And threatens Ruin to our Warlike Franks .
Go haste to Albion, and her State embroil,
With Heats and Strife and Tumult fill the Isle.
That Arthur from Lutetia may retire,
To quench distracted Albion 's raging Fire.

   He said. The Fiend pleas'd with the high design
Reply'd, this grateful Enterprise be mine.
I first in Heav'n did Strife and Uproar move,
And vext with War the Realms of Peace and Love.
Cast down from thence to Eden 's Walks I came,
Where Adam 's Breast receiv'd my powerful Flame.
From Heav'n his yielding Heart I did divide
Tho' by the Bonds of Love and Int'rest ty'd
Against his God I arm'd the Rebel first,
And then against himself with Guilt and Lust.
His Veins inspir'd by me, distracted Cain
Did first with humane blood the ground distain.
Subjects by me dethrone their Rightful Lord,
Sons in their Parents Bowels sheath their Sword.
Empires whose deep foundations laid in blood,
Collected in their Strength unshaken stood,
Viewing their spacious Conquests far and wide,
And all their Foes Associate Arms defy'd,
By my Superiour force at last attackt,
Have faln with inward, strong Convulsions rackt.
Nations insulted by their Tyranny,
Have seen with Joy their Wrongs reveng'd by me.
The Roman vanquish'd Eagles must have fled,
And left Unconquer'd proud Judea 's head,
Had not my Fury and resistless Flames
Annoy'd the Walls, more than their Batt'ring Rams.
High Rome by all the trembling World ador'd,
Inspir'd by me, plung'd her Victorious Sword
Within her own full Breasts, and with her Darts
Wild with Distraction pierc'd her Childrens Hearts.
Her mighty Sons in Arms and War renown'd,
With the rich Spoils of Conquer'd Monarchs crown'd,
Drunk with my Fury, with each other's blood
Delug'd the Plains, and swell'd sad Tyber 's Flood.
Ev'n Christians whom their Founder had enjoyn'd,
To live in Bonds of Peace and Love combin'd;
Whence both their Strength and Beauty should arise,
And on them draw the World's admiring Eyes,
Inspir'd by me against each other rag'd,
For Empire strove, and in fierce War engag'd.
I taught them to despise the gentle Dove,
And into Savage Fury chang'd their Love.
They soon discern'd by Lights deriv'd from me,
That Kindness, Meekness, low Humility
Those Gospel Vertues that to Peace inclin'd,
Enfeebled and debased a Noble Mind.
The Streets which sounded with Seraphic Lays,
With Songs of Heav'nly Love and Sacred Praise,
Now with the Din of Arms and Trumpets sound,
And warlike noise shake all the Heav'ns around.
Their Mitred Captains spring into the Field,
Lay down the Crosier, and the Fauchion weild.
Th' outrageous Preachers of a Law of Peace,
From Strife and fierce Contention never cease.
The Sacred Prelates now for Arms declare,
Unfold their Gowns, and shake out horrid War.
The furious Shepherds o'er the Mountains scour,
Prevent the Wolves, and their own Flocks devour.
Their Love extinguish'd by my stronger flame,
Their Church a bloody Theater became,
Where with a Zeal that gives all Hell delight,
Ecclesiastic Gladiators Fight:
In bloody Prizes with prodigious rage,
The eager Champions of the Church engage.
That Church has found mine, a more fatal Fire
Then that wherein her Martyrs did expire.
The beauteous Charms and Graces that arose
From perfect Health which Unity bestows,
Soon wither'd and decay'd, and in their place
A sickly Hue deform'd her meagre face.
My single hand has nobler Conquests won
O'er the Vile Sect, than all your Arms have done.
In vain you brought your Scythians from the North,
In vain you led your Roman Armys forth.
Oppos'd by these the Christians greater grew,
And all their Suff'rings did their Strength renew.
Confed'rate Earth and Hell could never move
This Sect supported by their mutual Love.
I broke the strong Enchantment, and infus'd
Those heats which all the binding Cement loos'd.
The Bond dissolv'd which did the frame connect,
Into a thousand parts was rent the shatter'd Sect.
Each Fragment strait aspir'd to soveraign rule,
And every seperate Part would be the whole.
They did each other black Apostates deem,
But all themselves the Orthodox esteem.
With all th' abstracted Points the Schools could find,
And Notions by th' acutest Wit refin'd
I entertain'd and fand the glowing flame,
Till it attain'd a force too great to tame.
Sometimes the Zealots shed each others blood,
For Points by neither Party understood.
Fruitfull in Creeds and Councils Asia 's soil
Is fam'd for fierce Ecclesiastic toil.
Anti- Nestorian at Nestorian rag'd,
And Arrian War with Anti- Arrian wag'd.
Their Synods oft adjourn'd into the Field,
And those were Hereticks, who first did yield.
All for the Conq'ring Faith did soon declare,
And Creeds were vary'd by the chance of War.
In Orthodoxal Pride by turns they reign'd,
As they by turns the Battle lost or gain'd.
These furious Zealots thus the World embroil'd,
And with unheard of Rage each other spoil'd.
So soon the Laws of Peace they did decline,
Despis'd their Master's Badge, and put on mine.
An idle Notion and an empty Word
Have dy'd with Christian Blood the reeking Sword.
Thus has the ruin'd World my Power confest,
And so much Zeal have I for Hell exprest:
Nor will I future Services decline,
But undertake the Province you enjoyn.
Strait to Britannia will I make my way,
She's Conscious of my Power, and must obey.

   She said. And strait she mounted in the Air,
And all behind her flew her Snaky Hair.
Thro' the dark Realms she swiftly wing'd her way,
And quickly reach'd the Silver Coasts of Day.
To Morogan 's high Seat she took her flight,
Where she arriv'd when blended Shades and Light,
A brown Confusion made of Day and Night.
When Birds obscene fly from their dark abodes,
And prowling Wolves forsake the shady Woods.
The Lyon now who in his Den by Day
His lazy Limbs extended slumb'ring lay,
Yawning and stretching from his Covert comes,
Roars o'er the Hills, and thro' the Forest roams.
His lofty Palace near Augusta stood,
On the sweet Banks of Isis famous Flood,
Whither the Peer sowr with his Discontent
Came, in Augusta Faction to foment.
Along the Shore his flowry Gardens lay,
Which did with smiling looks the Stream survey.
Here walk'd proud Morogan with Cares opprest,
Holding his Arms across his anxious Breast.
When hither with her Crew the Fury came,
Whose pois'nous Breath, and the malignant flame
That thro' the Air her glaring Eye-balls cast,
All the delicious Gardens Glory blast.
The verdant Walks their charming Aspect lose,
And shriveld Fruit drop from the wither'd Boughs.
Flowers in their Virgin Blushes smother'd die,
And round the Trees their scatter'd Beautys lie.
Infection taints the Air, sick Nature fades,
And suddain Autumn all the place invades.
So when the Fields their flowry pomp display,
Sooth' d by the Spring's sweet Breath and chearing ray,
If Boreas then designing envious War,
Musters his swift-wing'd Legions in the Air,
And then for sure Destruction marches forth,
With the Cold Forces of the Snowy North.
The opening Buds and sprouting Herbs, and all
The tender First-Born of the Spring must fall.
The blighted Trees their blooming Honours shed,
And on their blasted Hopes the mournful Gard'ners tread.

   The Fury strait compress'd the ambient Air
Moulded a shape, and did a Dress prepare
So just, that thus disguis'd the crafty Fiend,
Proud Algal seem'd the Peer's departed Friend.
A Mitre did his hoary Temples crown,
Pride in his Eyes, and on his Brow a frown.
Pondrous with Gold a Scarlet Cope made fast
With Silver Clasps, his Reverend Shoulder grac'd.
A low hung Robe as white as Snow he wore,
And in his hand a Golden Crosier bore.
She did a haughty Air and Mien assume,
Such as we see in the proud Sons of Rome .
Gravely she then advanc'd, and coming near
She stood, and thus bespoke the thoughtful Peer.

   Let not my coming Morogan affright,
The Seats of Bliss and of Immortal Light.
Where ravish'd Minds their Golden hours employ
In drinking in unutterable joy,
By antient Friendship mov'd I now forsake
To give that Counsel Morogan should take.
While all your Inj'rys tamely you sustain,
You tempt th' Oppressor to encrease your pain.
Wrongs unreveng'd new suff'rings will invite,
And not asserting it, you yield your Right.
Prince Arthur and for ever may be curst
That impious Tongue, which call'd him Monarch first
The Britons and their Merit disregards,
And on the Neustrian only heaps Rewards.
These know his Secrets, and enjoy his Smiles,
Pamper'd with Ease, and rich with Albion 's spoils.
The slighted Briton at a distance stands,
Not to receive his Favours, but Commands.
You that advanc'd him to th' Imperial Throne,
And for his safety did expose your own,
Who did till now his tott'ring Crown Support,
For this are banish'd from th' ungrateful Court.
Commands and Honours are confer'd on those
Who chiefly did his Arms, and yours oppose.
The Profits these enjoy, for which you fought,
And reap the Fields, which by your Blood were bought.
You all are left to tell of Camps and Wars,
To show your Wounds, and unrewarded Scars.
In vain your Merit in the Scale you lay,
Against your Neighbours Gold can Merit weigh?
This Court the Man that's useful now rewards,
And future Service, not the past regards
This Prince those Subjects only will prefer,
Who always please, or necessary are.
When Arthur first the Saxon did invade,
What Forces did you raise to bring him Aid?
What mighty Deeds were at Gallena done,
What Trophys by your Conqu'ring Sword were won?
What Strength, what Godlike Courage did you show,
Passing like Thunder thro' the broken Foe?
How much that glorious Day was due to you,
You beat the Foe, whom Arthur did pursue?
For this he envy'd your Heroic Fame,
And griev'd that yours did Rival Arthur 's Name.
For this, from your Commands you are displac'd,
Strip'd of your Honours, and at Court disgrac'd.
Excess of Worth some as a Crime regard,
And hate the Vertue, which they can't reward.
The Merit which to these does most commend,
Is on their favour wholly to depend.
Your Vertues make you to the People dear,
And whom the People Love, ill Princes fear.
You once were Valu'd, when besmear'd with blood
You o'er the slaughter'd Saxons Conquering rode.
But now the Statesman does your hopes defeat,
And reaps the fruits of all your Blood and Sweat.
Your Merit ceases now the Foe's o'ercome,
The brave abroad fight for the Wise at home.
You are but Camp Camelions fed with Air,
Thin fame is all the bravest Hero's share.
Yet the good Monarch would no longer give
This meagre Sustenance on which you live.
His Ensigns he has wafted o'er the Main
New Laurels in the Gallic Fields to gain.
But you are left neglected here behind,
Such Scorn must deeply wound a generous Mind.
Solmar enjoys the Honour which to you
Is for your Courage and Experience due.
Your noble Soul this treatment does resent,
Nor do you spare to give your Passion vent.
But what will words do? they may prove a Crime
Dangerous indeed to you, but not to him.
Resentments till by sweet Revenge reveal'd,
Deep in your Breast should wisely be conceal'd.
Repeated threat'nings only wound the Air,
The Sword alone your Inj'rys can repair.
In vain your empty Words your Passion show,
He should not hear it, till he feel it too.
Heav'n now has plac'd Revenge within your power,
Had you a Heart to use the happy Hour.
While Arthur 's absent from the British Isle
To seek new Triumphs in a Forreign Soil,
Some Pious Prelates are enrag'd to see
Their Prince protect audacious Heresy.
These in their Zeal to their Restorer cool,
Why should they serve a Prince they cannot Rule?
Adal and many Noble Leaders more
Who call'd their Hero from the Neustrian Shore,
Who from the Cliffs the Ocean oft survey'd,
And with Impatience dy'd to be delay'd;
Who, when he came, unheard of Joy exprest,
And their Deliverer, as they call'd him, blest;
Thousands of these grown Wiser wish to be
From their Deliv'rance, and Deliverer free.
Now the warm Passion has its Vigor spent,
They Cool to Sense, and their rash Choice repent.
Inlighten'd they, their fatal error own,
And crush'd beneath too much Redemption groan.
Power and Promotion were the dazling Prize,
The bright Illusion that engag'd their Eyes,
Which not obtain'd the strong enchantment's broke,
And now their Reason's free, they find the Yoke,
The heavy Yoke is not remov'd, the Name
Is only chang'd, the Thing is still the same.
Ill blood encreases thro' the murm'ring State,
And unpromoted Friendship turns to Hate.
Pernicious Counsellors your Prince misguide;
And from the People's Int'rest his divide.
These Sychophants address with Courtly Skill
Not to his Wants their Counsel, but his Will.
They hide ungrateful Truth and speak no more
Than what they knew would please their Prince, before.
Bright Schemes of Power before him they display,
And the sweet Charms of Independent Sway,
They tell him Kings then only great appear,
When Arm'd with Force they move their Subjects fear.
Princes whose Will pretended Law restrains,
Are only Royal Slaves, and rule in Chains.
That he's a King who triumphs free from Law,
Like the fierce Monarchs which the Desart awe.
Which uncontroul'd range the wild Mountains o'er,
And shake the Forest with their dreadful roar.
Whose haughty Nod the trembling Herds obey,
And are not Subjects only, but their Prey.
To such a Power they teach him to aspire,
And such a savage Empire to admire
More than Elysian Groves, and Spicy Woods,
And flowry Gardens stretcht along the Floods,
Ev'n more than Eden 's Paradise, if there
Does one high Tree above his reach appear,
On which does hang the People's Golden Meat
Which Right protects, and Law forbids to Eat.
To ravish beauteous Liberty they first
Excite their Monarch, then assist his Lust.
By all her Crys unmov'd, and all her Charms
They bring her struggling to th' Oppressor's Arms.
These are the Tyrant's Pioneers that lay
All the high Fences flat, and clear the way
For his destructive Arms to fill with Spoil,
And fearful Ruin all their native Soil.
These in the Saxon Int'rest still abide,
And with design the lab'ring State misguide,
If Arms you take, no doubt but these will joyn,
And with their Squadrons aid the just design.
Others by favour rais'd to high Command,
Weak and unskilful in the Steerage stand,
To guide the Vessel, till 'tis almost lost
Midst frequent Rocks, and on a shoaly Coast.
Indulgent Heav'n of Miracles profuse
Religious admiration to produce,
Protecting Care has of the Britons shown,
Against their En'mys Wisdom, and their own.
But will you still on Miracles rely?
You must the means to heal the state apply,
The Sword's a sharp, but sov'raign Remedy.

   She said. And from her odious head she tore
A chosen Viper swoln with pois'nous Gore,
She prest and grip'd him hard, and slash'd him thrice
Against the ground, to make his fury rise.
Then with a nimble hand the twining Beast
She secretly directed to his Breast.
Which pass'd as swiftly as a Parthian Dart,
Or pointed flame of Light'ning to his Heart.
Where while she fixt her Teeth, into the Wound
She prest out all th' envenom'd Juices found
In yellow Cells, wherewith her Jaws abound.
The secret Plague with which his heart was stung
Close to his Life in chill Embraces Clung.
A shiv'ring horror thro' his Vitals struck,
And every Limb with strong Convulsions shook.
The cold to heat no less excessive turn'd,
And with a suddain Fire the Briton burn'd.
All Ætna 's Caves strove in his lab'ring Soul,
And Stygian Tempests in his veins did rowl.
His panting Heart threw out a boiling tide,
And circulating flames their winding Channels fry'd.
Distracting fury all the Man possest,
And Agonys of rage o'erwhelm'd his Breast.
Taking long strides sometimes he Slowly stalk'd,
And then Distracted rather ran, than Walk'd.
Oft stopping on a suddain would he stand
Striking his Breast, and stamping on the Sand.
Sometimes his Eyes were fixt upon the Ground,
Then starting up he wildly star'd around.
He bit his Lips, and with his Hands did tear
From his distemper'd Head his curling Hair.
Death! Heav'ns! 'tis so. Ungrateful Man. Abus'd.
Were broken Forms of Speech his Passion us'd.
Then on his mighty Sword he laid his Hand,
And mutt'ring to himself did threatning stand.
So when a Bull nodding his brindled Head,
And softly bellowing traverses the Mead,
While the warm Sun darts his indulgent Beams,
And most refines the Earth's exhaling Steams;
If then he finds th' invading Hornet cling,
Close to his Flank, and feels the poison'd Sting,
The wounded Beast enrag'd, and roaring out
Whisks round his Tail, and flings, and flys about:
Mad with th' adhering Plague's tormenting Pain,
He Scares the Herds, and raving scowrs the Plain.

   Then her Disguise and Shape of Air dissolv'd
Which all her Monsters, and dire Limbs involv'd,
Strait did the Fiend her Stygian Wings display,
And to Miraldo 's Palace flew away.
He, tho a Prelate was a Male-content,
Impetuous, hot, revengeful, turbulent.
False to his Vows, to Broils and Strife inclin'd,
A Mitred Christian with a Pagan Mind.
The Fury pois'd with her unerring Art
Her flaming Torch, and aim'd it at his Heart.
Across the Air the Firebrand swiftly flew,
And lightly pass'd his purple Garments thro'.
His Breast was strait on Fire, thro' every Vein
The hot Contagion did resistless reign.
The haughty Prelate strait outragious grew,
And wild and raving round the Palace flew.
His swelling Eyes did from their Orbit start,
And Streaks of Fire across th' Apartment dart.
He gnash'd his angry Teeth, his heaving Breast
And trembling Joynts the Fiend within confest.
So when surrounding Huntsmen cast a Shower
Of hissing Spears against some mighty Boar.
The grisly Beast provok'd with every Wound,
Rages, and casts his threatning Looks around.
High on his Back his furious Bristles rise,
And Lightning flashes from his raging Eyes.
He tosses Clouds of Foam amidst the Air,
And brandishing his Fangs invites the War.
Part of his over boyling Fury spent,
The Prelate spoke to give his Passion vent.

   Do's Arthur thus my service past requite,
Despise my Power, and thus my Int'rest slight?
Is he so firm, so fixt upon his Throne,
That we Supporters once are useless grown,
Remov'd as Scaffolds now the Building's done?
My Power and Strength th' ungrateful King shall know
And find a Churchman is no vulgar Foe.
That the kind Miter must support the Crown,
That Arms are impotent without the Gown.
He shall a Churchman's Strength superiour find;
He rules the Body only, we the Mind.
Against their King my Sons will me obey,
My Power's Divine, and do's the Conscience sway.
The People of their Error I'll convince,
And make it Treason to obey their Prince.

   Distracted thus he pass'd the wearing Night,
Watching with eager Eyes the springing Light.
And when the Morn did her grey Wings display,
From whence she gently shook the tender Day.
Strait Messengers he thro' Augusta sends
To call with Speed his most confiding Friends,
Who chiefly by his Eloquence was sway'd,
And his Advice as Oracles obey'd.

   Of these deep Hate to Arthur some declar'd,
And for Rebellion had been long prepar'd.
These in the Church a Separation made
Because King Arthur she as Head obey'd.
Some whom Promotion only did convert
To Arthur 's Cause, still lov'd his Foes at Heart.
By solemn Vow they did the Monarch own,
But labour'd hard to undermine his Throne.
While Albion 's famous Church Obedience paid
And for the King her great Defender pray'd,
These few, for some amongst the best are bad,
Ev'n Christ among his twelve one Traitor had,
As open Schismaticks or secret Foes,
Did both the Pious Church and Pious King oppose.

   'Tis true in Arthur 's most auspicious Days,
The Peaceful Priesthood gain'd Immortal Praise:
Then noble Lights did in the Church appear,
And with their Orbs adorn'd her sacred Sphear.
Whose Pious Lives and Labours made her shine
With Heav'nly Graces, and with Truth Divine,
Whose learned Fame advanc'd her to the Skys,
And on her drew the World's admiring Eyes:

   Then Tylon, Olbar, Arman, Orocon
Britannia 's glorious Luminarys shone.
Then flourish'd Caledon great Tylon 's Friend
Who to the Field King Arthur did attend.
Then flourish'd learned Aula void of Pride,
And Moran did his Church with Honour guide.
Then Patracan the Church's Fame increast,
And charming, sweet-tongued Fleta Albion blest.
These sacred Priests whom Albion most rever'd,
And thousands more to Arthur 's Cause adher'd.
Yet some ev'n then were found, who did create
Disturbance in the Church, as well as State.
Men of aspiring Thoughts and restless Mind,
Who Grandeur and Terrestrial Pomp design'd.
Scepters Immortal, and high Thrones of Bliss
In the next World they mock'd, they'll reign in this.
Celestial Crowns did doubtful things appear,
These would be Mitred Kings, and triumph here.
Religion which their Heav'nly Founder taught,
To these seem'd Plain and Naked to a fault.
These to encrease her Charms did on her throw
Their gawdy Pomp, and Ceremonial Show.
Which soon her native Majesty did shrowd,
Her Form divine and Heav'nly Lustre cloud.
She groan'd beneath her Robe's unweildy Weight,
Eclips'd with Splendor, and debas'd with State.
Her Godlike Looks at first her Vot'rys saw
With Admiration, Love and sacred Awe.
These made her lovely Shape to be despis'd
Deform'd with Paint, with Ornament disguis'd.

    Botran to every restless Spirit dear
Did at Miraldo 's Palace first appear.
Inexorable Hatred, Pride unmixt
Desp'rate Revenge, and Malice deeply fixt,
With Wrath from every Stain of Love refin'd
Reign'd uncontroul'd in his envenom'd Mind.
The savage Spoilers of the Lybian wild
Compar'd with this fierce Man, are tame and mild.
His Parents got him in a sullen Mood,
Hell's Furys round th' unshap'd Conception stood,
And all their Poisons mixt in one green Flood:
Then the dire Medly from the flowing Bowl
They pour'd into his Veins, and thence into his Soul.
Each with his Torch the heaving Mass inspir'd,
And with their keenest Flames the Embryo fir'd.
Th' unhappy Parents Womb began to swell,
And quicken'd with the Joy and Hopes of Hell.
With mighty Pangs she brought the Monster forth,
And dy'd to give her odious Offspring Birth.
Her wretched Bowels with Convulsions rent
Th' exploded Thunderbolt midst Mortals sent.
Teeth from his Birth did arm his cruel Jaws,
And Nails his Hands, sharp as a Tyger's Claws,
Fierce as young Beasts of Prey he us'd to try
Upon his Nurse his Infant Cruelty.
Displeas'd with Milk he bit her swelling Breast,
And suck'd her Blood a more delicious Feast.
Young Birds and Beasts he strangled with his Hand,
And o'er their Torments would insulting stand.
Hell's greatest Masters all their Skill combin'd
To form and cultivate so fierce a Mind,
Till their great Work was to Perfection brought,
A finish'd Monster form'd without a Fault.
No Flaw of Goodness, no deforming Vein
Or Streak of Vertue did their Offspring stain.

   Then Orban, Sobez , and Elbuna came
Whose Envy, Malice and ambitious Aim
With Botran 's and Miraldo 's were the same.
Tho' all a cruel Nature had exprest,
Botran in Rage and Spite surpass'd the rest.
Th' Assembly fill'd, Miraldo Silence broke
And in these Words his Reverend Friends bespoke.

   Prelates you see how Arthur do's employ
His Art and Power our Altars to destroy.
This Prince against us has at last exprest
The Rancor long conceal'd within his Breast.
From us our due Protection he withdraws,
And breaks the Fences of our ancient Laws.
What dreadful Tempests o'er our Heads appear,
What Desolation may we justly fear,
Now all th' Entrenchments, and the sacred Mound
Now the high Pale is levell'd with the Ground,
Which Christ's Celestial Vine did once surround?
Wild Boars and Foxes will destroy her Fruit,
Tear up the Glebe, and gnaw her tender Root.
Now our Sectarian Foes in numerous Swarms
Will lay our Churches wast with furious Arms.
A Rout of raging Monsters will invade
The Heav'nly Vin'yard, now the Breach is made,
And all th' Inclosure is so open laid.
How can our Dignity be now upheld,
Since our coercive Laws are all repeal'd?
The Cement gone that held the Structure, all
The mould'ring Fabrick must decay and fall.
Stript of its Power who will our Gown revere,
Who will a Church unarm'd and naked fear?
Our Empire we no further shall extend,
Nor what we now possess, shall long defend.
We never shall unsheath this Monarch's Sword,
His Arms no Triumphs will to us afford.
He'll ne'er enrich us with Sectarian Spoil,
But when we push him forward will recoyl.
If impious Sects the sacred Mitre dare,
In vain we bid him undertake the War.
He unconcern'd our threat'ning Danger sees,
Nor will revenge our Wrongs and Injurys.
He to the Sects gives universal Ease,
And with our Foes has made a separate Peace:
Prelates, you see what lowring Clouds appear,
Which clearly show our certain Ruin near.
If still our Foes must this Indulgence boast,
The Church is faln, and all her Sons are lost.
Speak Prelates, what Expedient can we find
Whereby th' impending Storm may be declin'd.
Say, how this growing Mischief we shall stop,
And how our sinking Empire underprop.

    Botran elated with Infernal Pride,
And urg'd with bitter Rancor thus reply'd.
Miraldo, Reverend Lords, do's truly state
Th' important Subject of this great Debate.
'Tis plain Sectarian Principles obtain,
And o'er the poison'd Court and Nation Reign.
The Sects are numerous, proud and haughty grown,
Find free Admission to the Prince's Throne.
Warm'd by the kind Indulgence of the Court,
Towring on high the busy Insects sport.
No more they dread the naked Church's Power,
But in their Monarch's Favour seem secure.
No Law restrains them, all our Hands are ty'd
And all Redress is to our Prayers deny'd,
And those they fear'd before, they now deride,
Crosiers their Hands, their Heads rich Mitres grace,
Who were the Offspring of Sectarian Race.
Sectarians o'er the Orthodox preside,
Who must the Church by Court-Direction guide.
They call them Men of Temper, Gentle, Meek,
They Peace pretend, and Moderation seek.
The Church by Condescention these betray,
And by reforming purge her Strength away.
How shall we Health to her pale Cheeks restore,
And to her Eyes the Beams they had before?
What Sov'raign Drug, what potent Remedy
Can we to save a sinking Church apply?
Since all our Wrongs and Fears from Arthur spring,
They're all remov'd, if he was not our King.
We guide their Conscience, and can soon provoke
Our zealous Friends to break th' Oppressor's Yoke.
Let us aloud the Church's Fears declare,
And for her sake engage her Sons in War.
Better a thousand Kings should quit their Throne,
Than such a Church as this should be undone.

   Thus these two Prelates did the rest inflame,
And dar'd usurp the Church's sacred Name,
Tho she incens'd, the Faction did disclaim.
Mean time bold Morogan by Hell inspir'd,
Came to Miraldo and access desir'd.
The Prelate introduc'd him to the rest,
Who at his coming wondrous Joy exprest.
Then did Miraldo to the Peer relate
At large th' important Matter in debate:
And what the fittest means to them appear'd
T' avert the Church's Ruin which they fear'd.
Entring the Room he straightway silence broke,
And thus the Reverend Prelates he bespoke.
The gath'ring Tempest from Sectarian Foes
Impending o'er the Church still blacker grows.
Our Enemys, th' Inclosure open laid,
With their collected Force the Church invade:
Fathers who ne'er were Sons they now create,
To rule the Sacred Order which they hate.
Sectarian Swarms indulg'd o'erspread the Isle,
Devour the Church, and all the Land defile.
Nor do I only mourn the Churches Fate,
I dread th' approaching Ruin of the State.
Bleeding Britannia from her open Veins
Pours out a Crimson Deluge on the Plains.
Her Beauty faded, and her Vigor spent,
She feels her self grown Faint and Impotent.
What Foreign Soil hears not her dying Moans,
Bath'd with our Blood, and horrid with our Bones.
Outlandish Graves our bravest Youth entomb,
Or else they are swallow'd in the Ocean's Womb.
Her Wealth profusely spent, her Treasures gone,
Lost Albion is exhausted; spoil'd, undone.
No bounds are set to our increasing Woes,
Devour'd by Foreign Friends, and Foreign Foes.
O'erwhelm'd with Sorrow, Anguish and Despair,
With her sad Moans she wounds the ambient Air,
And to her Sons pours out this mournful prayer.
Ease me, my Sons, of my tormenting Pain,
Remove my Yoke, and break my pondrous Chain.
Will not my Wounds my Son's Compassion move?
Where is their ancient Courage, where their Love?
Arthur, restore my Valiant Legions lost
On Scandinavia 's, and the Cimbrian Coast.
Restore my Noble Youth for my defence,
Protect not Forreign Realms at my expence.
My wasted Riches and my Ships restore,
Enrich not Neustria 's Towns to make mine poor.
Relieve my Wants restore my Ease and Health,
And spread not neighb'ring Shores with British Wealth
Let not proud Rhenus and the Gallic Sein
Exhaust my Thames, and all her Treasures drain.
Call home my Armys who with fruitless toyl,
Pursue Ambitious Aims in Forreign Soil.
Protect my Commerce, and my Fleets encrease,
Make me again the Empress of the Seas.
Oh! Let th' insulting Corsairs be supprest,
Who in distructive Swarms my Coasts infest.
Chase this dire plague from my unguarded Shore,
Restore my Fleets, and they will Peace restore.
Can we her Sons see with relentless Eyes
Britannia 's tears, and haer unmov'd, her crys?
Must not these Woes which threaten Church and State
Wound all our Souls and anxious care create?
How shall our Arts the lowring Storm dispel?
What lofty Works can this strong Tide repel?
Britannia must not sink, nor can we see
The Church o'er-run with monstrous Heresy.
We must our Altars with our Arms protect,
And guard our State which Arthur dos neglect.
Our Desolation from Destructive War
Moves not his Pity, nor employs his care;
While Dreams of Foreign Triumphs fill his Brain,
Domestic Evils unresisted reign.
If we Britannia love, we must apply
With speed some sharp and Soveraign Remedy.
By Camps and Battles Albion 's strength decays,
The slow Disease upon her Vitals preys.
This Flux of Blood exhausts her flabby Veins,
And from the Springs of Life their Vigor drains.
Her noblest and her purest Spirits gone,
A windy Vapour swells her Veins alone.
Campaigns protracted and th' insatiate Womb
Of everlasting War her Wealth entomb.
We must debate how best her Wealth to save,
Princes impoverish first, and then enslave.
Adal and Barden to the Britons dear,
Who love their Country, and her ruin fear,
Organ and Subal who have still bewail'd
Their Country's fate, since Arthur first prevail'd,
These all by me engag'd, prepare to Arm,
You Church-men must assist and spread th' alarm.
No doubt some great Sectarians too will joyn,
Who from their Zeal to Arthur 's Cause decline,
Who on their unrewarded Arms reflect,
Proud of their Worth, impatient of Neglect.
These with loud murm'rings all Britania fill,
Expose their Prince and boldly thwart his will.
These tho' they hate us, as we justly them,
Joyn with us Arthur 's Conduct to condemn.
These raise Distrust, Suspition, Jealousy,
Which for Protection to Resistance fly.
These Passions soon in open Arms appear,
To guard against the Dangers, which they fear.
Thus far we'll call the Vile Sectarian Friend,
And use his Service to promote our End,
The Sects shall Aid, King Arthur to dethrone,
Then fall themselves, their chief Supporter gone.

   He said, the Faction with a great Applause
Embrac'd the forward Champion of their Cause.
In solemn Vows th' ungrateful Rebels joyn
To execute with speed their black Design.
He whom with Prayers and Tears they did invite,
To ease their Suff'rings and assert their Right.
Who touch'd with God-like Pity, soon releast
These wretched Slaves by Pagan Foes opprest,
By whose blest Arms Deliv'rance did appear
Strange and amazing, as their Dangers were;
He's by ungrateful Murmurers defam'd,
By those his Power protects, Oppressor nam'd.
For now the dreadful Storm is over blown,
And all the hideous shapes of Terror gone,
Now Barb'rous Gods and Barb'rous Kings no more
Oppress despairing Albion as before,
These Men no more their great Restorer own,
But would the Prince that sav'd their Church dethrone.
So when good Moses set his Hebrews free
From the strong Jaws of Savage Tyranny,
Working a thousand Miracles to raise
Their Admiration, and excite their Praise;
They, rescu'd from the proud Oppressor's Hand,
And plac'd in Prospect of the promis'd Land,
Forgot the Wonders in their Favour shown,
Wonders by their Ingratitude outdone.
They soon their great Deliv'rer did despise,
And mock the Freedom, which with earnest Crys
And endless Groans they importun'd the Skys.
So long with Egypt 's Leeks and Onions fed
They soon began to loath their Heav'nly Bread,
They would again be back to Egypt led.
They to their Chains and Brick-kilns would return,
And sore the loss of Egypt 's Bondage mourn.
Of their Deliv'rance so did these repent,
And so revile the glorious Instrument.
They did their great Restorer dare condemn,
And all the Wonders which he wrought blaspheme.
Again the Slaves require their scourging Rods,
Their Saxon Masters, and their Pagan Gods.
Now open War the Rebels did proclaim,
And with their Slanders wounded Arthur 's Fame.
A thousand Falshoods did the Traitors vent,
T' embroil the Realm and Tumults to foment.
Their crafty Arts wrought up the People's Rage,
And in Rebellion did weak Minds engage.
As when high Winds on the vast Ocean blow;
The swelling Surges strait tumultuous grow:
Mad with their Rage they beat with fearful Strokes
Their batt'ring Heads against th' opposing Rocks.
On some while rushing forward, some recoil,
And with wild Uproar all the Deep embroil.
Along the Coasts th' outragious Billows roar,
Or dash themselves to sleet upon the Shore.
Rebellion, Fury, Insurrection reign
O'er the vext Empire of the spacious Main.
So did these Agitators loud Alarms
Embroil Britannia with seditious Arms.
The common Clamour was, Religion's gone,
The Church is ruin'd, and the State undone.
Atheists bewail the Church's wretched Fate,
And Beggars fear the Ruin of the State.
The Vicious and Prophane their Armour take,
Fond of Rebellion for Religion's sake.
Those who derided all her sacred Laws
Appear, as Champions of the Church's Cause.
Those who on Tyrants lov'd to fawn, and still
Enslav'd thtir Country to their boundless Will.
Who did her ancient Laws and Rights betray,
Now most complain of arbitrary Sway.

   Mean time fell out a luckless Incident,
Which did Sedition's spreading Flame foment,
And favour'd much the Traytors black Intent.
Augusta 's Fleet equipt with mighty Cost,
Each Year the Ocean pass'd to Asia 's Coast.
As oft return'd with Triumph from abroad
In Albion 's Ports her Treasures to unload.
Hence Albion Empress of the Seas possest
All the Delights and Riches of the East.
Then in her Towns did wondring Strangers see
Arabian Wealth, and Tyrian Luxury.
The Pious King whose Vigilance and Care
Attended all Concerns of Peace and War,
Whose Breast felt only this ambitious Aim
To raise Britannia 's Glory, Wealth, and Fame,
Sends out a Warlike Squadron to protect
This Navy which Augusta did expect.
The Squadron well equipt advanc'd to meet
And guard from Pyrates Rage the Asian Fleet.
With prosp'rous Gales they pass'd the narrow Tyde
That do's Iberia from the Moor divide.
But now the gath'ring Clouds began to rise,
And lab'ring Winds convey'd them up the Skys.
A dreadful Storm ensued, Fire, Hail and Rain
Beat with an unknown Fury on the Main.
Such Thunderclaps, such Winds, such Waves did roar
As never tremb'ling Saylors heard before.
Experienc'd Captains gray in Danger grown
Stood now amaz'd and did their Terror own.
In vain to stop their leeking Ships they try'd,
In vain the Pump, in vain the Rudder ply'd,
In vain they cut their Masts, or furl'd their Sails,
The Sea's resistless, and the Storm prevails.
Some Vessels with inevitable Shocks
Were dash'd to pieces on the craggy Rocks.
Some overset, some founder'd, some the Sand
Suck'd in, and some were lost upon the Strand.
Britannia 's scatter'd Wreck and Warlike Stores
With endless Spoils o'erspread Iberia 's Shores.
The Warlike Squadron lost, that should secure
Britannia 's Asian Fleet from hostile Power,
When thrice Aurora 's bright disshevel'd Hair
Had chas'd the Shades from all th' inlighten'd Air,
In with the Foe the wealthy Navy fell,
And strove in vain their Fury to repel.
For Lusitania won with Gallic Gold,
Their Corsair's Service had to Clotar sold.
Clotar did these and many more employ
The British Coasts and Commerce to annoy.
These prosp'rous Robbers seize the noble Prey,
And to their Ports Britannia 's Spoils convey.

   When these ill Tydings to Augusta came,
The Rebels thro' the Streets the Loss proclaim,
And on the pious King reflect the Blame.
Their Mouths a thousand black Invectives vent,
And with infernal Malice represent
Th' indulgent King as one who would betray
Their Naval Strength, and wish'd their Trade's Decay.
Thus the seditious Flame they did foment,
And into Rage blew up the Discontent.
As when the Sun to th' Artick Line returns,
And with a scorching Ray the Harvest burns,
Emptys the Rivers, and the Marshes drys,
Chaps the hard Plain, and russet Meadow frys,
If in some Town a Fire breaks out by chance,
Th' impetuous Flames with lawless Power advance:
On ruddy Wings the bright Destruction flys,
Follow'd with Ruin, and amazing Crys.
The flaky Plague spreads swiftly with the Wind,
And ghastly Desolation Howls behind.
So soon Sedition reer'd her hissing Head,
So swiftly did her raging Poison spread.
Thus did the Fury Albion 's State embroil,
And with Distraction fill th' unquiet Isle.
So far her Undertaking did succeed;
All Hell had joy, and triumph'd in the Deed.
That done, the Fiend left the sweet Realms of Light,
And sinking, plung'd her self in Stygian Night.


    Mean time Gravellan an Illustrious Peer,
Who to his Monarch's Int'rest did adhere,
For Eloquence, for Wit and Courage fam'd,
Was by the Faithful Lords in Council nam'd
The Messenger, who should on Arthur wait,
To represent Britannia 's troubled State.
Forthwith the noble Person undertook
The task enjoin'd, and Albion 's Coast forsook.
With outspread Wings his Vessel crost the Main,
And the Neustrasian Shore did quickly gain:
Thence to the Camp impatient of delay
He hasten'd, where the Valiant Britons lay.
Arriving there, thro' the thick Files he went
With eager Steps to Pious Arthur 's Tent.
Where he in secret with his Monarch spoke,
And to him thus th' unwelcom Message broke.

   Since Jason was dispatch'd to let you know
Your heavy loss, and sad Britannia 's Woe;
When Ethelina did her Throne remove,
And chang'd Terrestrial Cares for Joys above:
A Race of Men who are enrag'd to see
Vertue asserted, and Britannia free.
Who to their Country wish the greatest Harms,
And envy you the Glory of your Arms:
Against your Throne and Albion 's Peace conspire
And with Seditious Heats the Britons fire.
With false Reports and Popular Address,
They spread th' Infection with too great Success.
With crafty Language, and ensnaring Arts,
Your Subjects they deceive, and gain their Hearts.
Some of th' Invidious Malecontents declare
Against the Burden of a Foreign War.
Some aggravate the Losses we sustain
By Corsairs, Rocks and Tempests on the Main.
These would th' Intendants of the Sea displace
As an unskilul, weak, and heedless Race.
They cry high Offices are Sold and Bought,
And Trusts for Men, not Men for Trusts are sought.
Some cry, the Freedom all the Sects enjoy,
The Churche's strong Foundations will destroy.
While by the Laws you 're to Sectarians kind,
Her Pillars shake, her Walls are undermin'd.
Some would your chiefest Ministers remove
Who serve you best, and most their Country love.
Into the Field they run in numerous Swarms,
Pretended Inj'rys to redress with Arms.
Rival with Rival, Foe with Foe combine,
Against their Prince divided Int'rests joyn.
Some are enrag'd to see their Foes enjoy
The Mannors, Honours, and the high employ,
Or noble Pension which themselves believ'd
Due to the mighty Deeds by them Atchiev'd.
Court Candidates with long Attendance tir'd
Fill'd with Despair, and with Resentment fir'd,
Neglected Senators, great Peers displac'd,
Captains cashier'd, and Ministers disgrac'd,
Bigots, and all the persecuting Kind
Against your Throne in Friendship are combin'd.
Then did the noble Lord at large relate
What Peers and Prelates most disturb'd the State.
Who did the Insurrection boldly head,
And who in secret did th' Infection spread,
And popular Heats with sly Suggestions fed.

   A while King Arthur sitting unresolv'd,
Th' important Message in his Mind revolv'd.
He in the greatest Straights could ever find
Unshaken Courage, and a present Mind.
If happy or unhappy Tydings came,
His Godlike Temper ever was the same.
In Storms of State he was a steady Guide,
Still ply'd the Helm, and stem'd th' impetuous Tyde.
No Change of Looks his inward Care confest,
And when he suffer'd most, he show'd it least.
Oft from the lowest Ebb his Waters came
Back to their Channel with a nobler Stream.
His sick'ning Orb would oft disturb the Sight
With faded Glory, and expiring Light:
But would as often with a suddain Blaze
Break out, and shine with more illustrious Rays:
Oft thrust from Heav'n it left its starry Sphere
Sunk down, and hung below in Cloudy Air,
But the divine Intelligence within
Rais'd it as oft, to its high Seat again.
Then calmly thus did the great Briton speak;
Soon as returning Day from Heav'n shall break,
I'll lead my Squadrons Clotar to invade,
And if my Arms by Heav'n's propitious Aid,
Against the Gallic Forces shall succed,
I'll reach Britannia with the utmost Speed,
To calm those Heats which interrupt her Peace,
And find fit Med'cines for the sharp Disease.

   Now had Aurora on the Face of Night
Pour'd from her Golden Urn fresh Streams of Light.
That fin'd and clear'd the Air, while down to Hell
The shady Dregs precipitated fell.
Then with Heroic Eagerness and Hast
King Arthur round his Head his Helmet brac'd:
From whose high Crest a lofty Plume did rise
Pure, as the Milky Stars that grace the Skys.
The radiant Steel which arm'd his Back and Breast,
Reflected Lustre not to be exprest.
Pure, burnish'd Gold his Martial Thighs encas'd,
And Silver Boots his vig'rous Legs embrac'd.
His glorious Belt he cross his Shoulder flung,
In which refulgent Caliburno hung.
With his strong Arm he grasp'd his spacious Shield,
Where a fierce Dragon guarded all the Field.
So bright it blaz'd, the Metal when it came
Red from the Forge, did scarce more fiercely flame.
Then his long Spear he grip'd, which shone from far
Bright, as if pointed with the Morning Star.
When first into his Hand King Arthur took
The pondrous Ash, the trembling Weapon shook,
As if 'twas conscious what a bloody Lake,
What vast Destruction 'twas about to make.
With Martial Port the Hero then advanc'd,
And fearful Splendor from his Armour glanc'd.
A dreadful Pleasure 'twas to view from far
The utmost Pomp, and Terror too of War.
As when the Dogs with their deep Mouths proclaim
That in the Wood they've rous'd the flying Game,
The generous Steed erects his list'ning Ears,
And the loud Noise with brave Impatience hears:
Thick Clouds of Smoke his working Nostrils blow,
And Streams of Fire out from his Eyeballs flow.
His eager Looks his inward Heat express,
And all his quiv'ring Limbs his Joy confess.
He paws the Vally with an needless Strife,
Profuse of Force, and prodigal of Life.
His forward Feet anticipate the Chace,
And seem to run, ev'n while he keeps his Place.
Such Life King Arthur show'd, such generous Rage,
Urg'd with as great Impatience to engage.

   The sprightly Trumpet now with shrill Alarms,
The British Troops with noble Fury warms.
Their Arms so well to Vict'ry known they take,
And springing forth the tented Camp forsake.
A graceful Ardor in their Looks appears
While Lances, Swords and Woods of glitt'ring Spears,
Throng'd Helmets, Gauntlets and contiguous Shields
Diffuse promiscuous Splendor o'er the Fields.
The various Glorys of their Arms combine,
And in one fearful, dazling Medly joyn.
The Air above, and all the Fields beneath
Shine with a bright Variety of Death.
Helms flash on Helms, Bucklers on Bucklers blaze
With glancing Lustre, and recoiling Rays.
The Sun starts back to see the Fields display
Their Rival Lustre, and Terrestrial Day.
The raging Steeds shake with their Feet the Ground
And with their Neighings all the Heav'ns around.
Prodigious Clamour rattles in the Hills,
And in loud Eccho's all the Valley fills.
Thick Clouds of Dust which from the Plains arise
O'erspread the Squadrons, and deform the Skys.
The valiant Troops draw out in close Array,
And on the Hills their awful Pomp display.
The thronging Franks amaz'd regard from far
Th' Embattled Wings and Iron Face of War.

   On th' other side of Esia 's silver Flood
The Gallic Army in Battalia stood.
And only now this interposing Tide
Did Albion 's Youth from the fierce Frank divide.
Bright, as the radiant Harbinger of Day
The splendid Arthur shone and led the Way.
His Squadrons follow'd, and along the Banks
The Britons swarm'd, and stretcht their Warlike Ranks.
Esia amaz'd at this strange sight appears,
Believing all her Reeds transform'd to Spears.
Th' affrighted Stream with unaccustom'd hast
By its arm'd Banks, and Iron Margin past.
Amidst the numerous Hosts the River flow'd
Like a vast Serpent, gliding thro' a Wood.

   The valiant Briton wav'd his flaming Sword,
And full of Rage his fiery Courser spur'd;
The wound resented by the generous Beast
He plung'd amidst the Waves, and with his Breast
He all th' opposing Waters did divide,
And made his way across th' impetuous Tyde.
As when (so Poets feign) lascivious Jove
Forsaking Heav'n became a Bull for Love,
The Thund'ring Beast with mighty Vigor bore
Across the Tyde his Mistress to the Shore.
So Arthur 's Steed the River's fury braves
Carrying a nobler Passion thro' the Waves.
Thro' Showers of Arrows which around him flew,
And Storms of Darts which Gallic Warriours threw
The mighty King advanc'd, and from the Stream
Bright as the Morning Sun in Triumph came.
With such a Lustre, and with such a Force
He rose, prepar'd to run his glorious Course.
Had those who liv'd in antient times descry'd
This Warriour rising from the foaming tide,
They would have thought that Mars himself had come,
As well as Venus, from the Water's Womb.
Fir'd with th' Example of th' intrepid King
The British Youth with Shouts did onward spring.
All to the Banks advanc'd, and with their Swords
High lifted up they leap'd to cross the Fords.
While thus the Britons boldly pass'd the Tyde,
The Gallic Troops rang'd on the other Side
Cast Clouds of Darts from near, and from afar,
To beat off from the Banks the wading War.
A ratling Storm down on the River pours,
And bearded Death descends in feather'd Showrs.
Some Rocky Fragments hurl against the Foe,
Some massy Spears, some glitt'ring Jav'lins throw.
While thus they strove th' Aggressor to repel,
Many great Britons by their Weapons fell.
Who mingled with the Waves their flowing Blood,
And turn'd the Crystal to a Purple Flood.
Coursers, dismounted Riders, Jav'lins, Helms,
And massy Shields the swelling Tyde o'erwhelms.
Spears, Arrows, Bows, and Plumes of various Dy
Upon the rapid Waters floating ly,
And Darts their Fury spent, still on the Current fly.

   First his impetuous Dart Olcanor cast
Which thro' Comara 's shining Buckler past:
Then thro' his temper'd Breastplate made its Way,
And buried deep within his Bosom lay.
From the wide Wound warm crimson Streams of Blood
Sprang out, and down the Briton 's Armour flow'd:
Backwards he fell of Sense and Breath bereft,
And his hot Steed without a Rider left.
The generous Courser now without a Guide,
Did with the spacious Breast the Flood divide,
And climbing up the Banks with loosen'd Reins,
Flew wild about, and scowr'd along the Plains.

   Then mighty Stuffa threw his massy Spear,
Which with its Errand pleas'd, sung thro' the Air.
He aim'd it full at Goran 's shining Crest,
But missing him, it struck his Courser's breast.
A Crimson Torrent spouted from the Wound,
And deeply tinctur'd all the Flood around.
The Steed tho' tortur'd with the goring Spear,
Would fain the Warriour thro' the Water bear.
He heav'd his lab'ring Limbs, stretcht every Vein,
Did every Muscle, every Sinew strain;
His Mouth out-foam'd the Waves, his Eye balls star'd,
And working Nostrils Death at hand declar'd:
Then faint with toil and vast expence of blood,
He with his Rider sunk beneath the Flood.

   Then was at Belon 's head a pondrous Stone
By the strong Arm of raging Bofar thrown.
It lighted on the Briton 's Breast, beneath
The Paps, and from his Body struck his breath.
He straightway headlong fell, and Esia 's Wave
Involv'd the Briton in a liquid Grave.
Next Robar fell of Berta 's noble Line,
Too bold the greatest Dangers to decline:
Now an inglorious Spear at random cast,
His Naval pierc'd, and thro' his Bowels past.
He honour'd by his Birth Sabrina 's Stream,
And by his Death rais'd silver Esia 's fame.
Here Dolan to surmount the rising Banks,
Stuck fast his Spurs within his Courser's Flanks;
The Steed against the Bank with fury sprung
That high above the Water's Margin hung;
But fell down backward headlong to the Flood,
And lab'ring lay, and choaking in the Mud.
Then Arton, Gamal , and Ormellan dy'd,
And with their Bodys swell'd the troubled tyde.
Next Blanadoc for Arts and Courage known,
And Holan, wise Testador 's Valiant Son,
And many more amidst the Waves were slain,
Who strove to make the Shore, but strove in vain.

   Mean time their Friends had gain'd the adverse Banks,
And march'd in Battle rang'd against the Franks .
Near to the Hills, the Franks retreating back,
In order drawn, waited the Foe's Attack.
Then Valiant Arthur to his Britons cry'd,
Now, Fellow Soldiers, no remaining Tyde
Is left to Guard the Foe; here, Britons, see
The way is plain that leads to Victory.
He said. And straight he spur'd his fiery Steed,
And thunder'd thro' the Plain with eager speed.
As when a Falcon from the Airy brow
Of some high Hill descrys the Game below,
To truss the Prey so strong, so swift he flys,
As if some Engine shot him thro' the Skys.
So Arthur with a noble Ardor past
T' engage the Foe, and the first Spear he cast
To Death's unwelcome Shades stout Hago sent;
The fatal Weapon thro' his Buckler went,
Broke thro' his Armour oft in Battle try'd,
And pass'd his Body thro' from Side to Side.
At Corolan he aim'd his second Spear,
Which pierc'd his Head ent'ring above the Ear!
He fell, and groveling in his flowing Gore
Fetch'd one deep Groan, and after fetch'd no more.

   Then from amidst the Files Grimaldo sprung,
Nobly descended, vig'rous, bold and young:
With all his Might his furious Spear he threw,
Which from the Briton 's Shield in pieces flew.
The Monarch all enrag'd with mighty Force
His Javelin cast, which with impetuous Course
Into his Breast past thro' his massy Shield;
Faint with the fatal Wound a while he reel'd,
Then down he fell, and stretcht upon the Ground
Which with his ringing Armour did resound.
Then Boson stept out from the foremost Ranks
A noble Youth born on Axona 's Banks;
He rais'd his spacious Buckler in the Air
And stooping down guarded his Head with Care.
The Briton saw him, and a Javelin sent
Which might all farther Care of Life prevent:
But Boson seap'd, tho with a mighty Dread
He heard the erring Death sing o'er his Head.
Conrade who next did to the Charge advance
Could not escape with such a prosp'rous Chance.
An Ashen Spear the British Monarch sent
Which on its deadly Message swiftly went.
The furious Weapon did with Ease divide
His Buckler's temper'd Plate and treble Hide.
Then deep within his wounded Breast it sunk,
And at their purple Spring his Vitals drunk.
Strait on the Ground he fell no more to rise,
And everlasting Sleep o'erwhelm'd his Eyes.

   Then did Amintor and great Tursin feel
Deep in their wounded Veins the Briton 's Steel.
Next Raban and Amansul near ally'd
By the same mighty Arm together dy'd:
These did when living to each other show
The highest Strains of mutual Love, and now
When dying both their Friendly Streams of Blood
Were joyn'd, and mixt in warm Embraces flow'd.
Then Villa much admir'd for beauteous Charms,
And not less famous for his splendid Arms,
Who with applauded Brav'ry always fought,
Up to the Charge his fierce Battalions brought.
Then did the valiant Frank his Javelin throw
Aiming at Arthur 's Breast a furious Blow:
Thro' the soft Bosom of the Air it went,
And in the Briton 's Shield its Fury spent.
The King enrag'd strait cast his glitt'ring Dart
Which thro' his Shield and Breast transfixt his Heart:
The noble Frank in strong Convulsions lay,
Wallowing in Gore, and Gasping Life away:
His swimming Eyes grew dim, and suddain Night
Her sable Curtain drew before his Sight.

   And now the Franks with vengeful Fury warm'd,
In numerous Throngs about the Monarch swarm'd.
Bright Showers of Darts did on his Buckler ring,
And bearded Arrows all around him sing.
Arthur enrag'd, resolv'd to force the Foe,
To break their Ranks, and cut his Passage thro.
He now no longer missive Weapons threw,
But from his Side broad Caliburno drew.
Above his Head he wav'd the glorious Blade,
Which dreadful Flashes thro' the Air convey'd.
And then advancing with a mighty stride,
Did force his Passage, and the Files divide.
As when a River is oblig'd to stay,
Oppos'd by some new Mound that dams its Way:
Th' obstructed Tyde swoln with its Fury stands,
And to its Aid calls its wat'ry Bands.
Recruited thus the River leans, and heaves,
And shoves against the Bank with all its Waves:
Which having broken, with resistless Force
It roars along, and runs with swifter Course.
So Arthur 's Rage resisted higher rose,
And scatt'ring all who did his Arms oppose
He thro' their Ranks with double Fury flew,
And their Brigades with greater Havock slew,
Such was the Conq'rour's rapid Course, that Fate
Could scarce attend, and almost came too late.
While Vict'ry almost spent, and out of Wind
Flew heavily along, and panting lag'd behind.
Ansegius when he saw the Monarch nigh,
Shaking with Pannic Fear began to fly.
The British King pursu'd him o'er the Sand,
His mighty Sword uplifted in his Hand.
The flying Frank finding his Vigor spent,
And that his Flight could not his Fate prevent,
Turn'd back, and trembling on the Ground he kneel'd,
And threw upon the Sand his Sword and Shield:
Then while his Hands he spread out in the Air,
And did his Words to beg his Life prepare,
His Head flew mut'ring from his sever'd Neck,
And in the Dust seem'd eager still to speak.
So when the timerous Game from far descrys
Th' invading Falcon stooping from the Skys,
Upon the Prey so swift is his Descent,
It do's its Crys and almost Fears prevent.

   Then Huban glorying in his noble Blood,
Boldly the conqu'ring Briton 's Course withstood.
But strait the Warriour on his Crest did feel
The Weight and Force of Arthur 's massy Steel;
With the vast Blow of the broad Fauchion stun'd
The Frank fell down, and prest the trembling Ground.
Arthur advanc'd and thus the Frank bespoke
Before his Arm discharg'd a second Stroke.

    Huban, what Widows Plaints, what woful Crys
Of Orphans made by thee, have fill'd the Skys?
Thou unprovok'd, with Fire and Sword hast past
Thro' Peaceful States, and laid rich Countrys wast.
What pop'lous Towns and Citys hast thou burn'd,
What Towers and Domes to heaps of Rubbish turn'd?
How has thy Sword thy Neighbours round alarm'd,
And slain their Youth when naked and unarm'd?
This Cruelty thy bloody hand has shown
To please King Clotar 's Fury, and thy own.
I'll now extinguish thy unnatural Thirst
Of humane Blood; That said, the Monarch thrust
Deep in his panting Breast his mighty Sword,
And left upon the Ground th' extended Lord.

   Then Obal, Rodan , and Gutaro fell,
And Oroman who did in Arts excel.
Ocar and Nisan lay in Dust and Gore,
And great Alcador, and vast numbers more
Whose Vulgar Names appear in no Record,
Dy'd by the mighty Briton 's Conq'ring Sword.
As when a Craggy Rock, that did appear
Still falling while suspended in the Air,
By washing Showers and frequent Tempests worn,
Or by some inward strong Convulsion torn,
Breaks off, and falling from the Mountain's top,
Rolls down the Wood beneath without a stop;
It overturns the Forest in it's way,
Nor can the strongest Oaks it's Progress stay.
Elms rooted up and broken Pines around,
(Amazing Desolation) spread the ground.
The British King advanc'd with such a force,
And no less Spoils adorn'd his rapid course.

   Mean time King Clotar who in Armour shone
Of polish'd Plate, led his Battalions on.
Around his Head his crested Helm was lac'd,
And on his Arm his blazing Target brac'd;
Which o'er the Field, amazing to behold,
Shone like a glowing Orb of melted Gold.
Fir'd with excessive Rage he did advance,
And shook from far his formidable Lance.
Then mounted in his high Refulgent Car,
He plung'd with loosen'd Reins amidst the War.
Brave Gisan first did in his Bosom feel
The deadly force of his projected Steel:
Down to the ground the wounded Warriour came,
And by his fall advancd the Conq'rour's fame.
Another Spear at Roderic he threw,
Which thro' his Shield, his Head, and Helmet flew.
The noble Briton stretcht upon the ground
And felt departing Life Ebb from his Wound:
He gather'd up his quiv'ring knees, and strait
He stretcht them out, and yielded to his fate.

   Bold Gotric next did in the Front appear,
Resolv'd to stand the mark of Clotar 's Spear:
With mighty Vigor he his Weapon cast;
It flew, and hiss'd with fury as it past.
It struck the Shield, but by unhappy chance
Did from the brazen Brim obliquely glance.
But that his Message might not be in vain,
By its refracted stroke was Ruthen slain,
And lay extended on the dusty Plain.
Where Clotar stood Ruthen was always near,
No Courtier more was to his Master dear.
With him the Monarch did the Secrets trust
Both of his Cruelty, and of his Lust.
The noblest Franks did by his Ponyard bleed,
Whose Doom by Clotar had been first decreed.
Or he the poison'd Bowl bore in his hand,
If bloodless Death his Master did command.
The fairest Women to his Bed he brought,
By Force, or Fraud, or by his Silver bought.
By Ruthen 's fall King Clotar all enrag'd,
His utmost strength in deep Revenge engag'd.
With his extended Arm his Dart he cast,
Which as a Bolt of Thunder swiftly past.
On Gotric 's Shield the hissing Vengeance fell,
Nor could the temper'd Steel its force repel.
Thro' Plates and Plys and Hides it's way it made,
And in his brawny Thigh the Weapon staid.
The Bearded Plague stuck in his wounded Veins,
And rack'd the Hero with tormenting Pains.
Down on his Knees he fell as in a Trance,
The haughty Victor fiercely did advance
To strike his head off, when brave Cutar broke
Thro' the thick Files, to ward the furious Stroke:
He took the Monarch's blow upon his Shield;
A suddain shout rung thro' th' applauding Field.

   Then Cutar, Clotar 's progress to arrest,
Discharg'd a noble Blow against his Crest;
The Frank receiv'd it on his temper'd Shield,
But stagger'd with the stroke, and backward reel'd.
Mean time brave Gotric had new Spirits gain'd,
Reviving from his Swoon, and then sustain'd
Both by his faithful Friends and faithful Spear
Retir'd in Pain, and halted to the Rear.
Gibbonius thro' all Britain 's Isle admir'd
As one with Æsculapian Skill inspir'd,
Prescrib'd a nobler Balm to heal the Wound
Then that the famous Locatella found.
King Clotar soon recover'd, and for Fight
Collected all his Rage, and all his Might.
As when a Lyon roaming o'er the Plains
Is stop'd by Huntsmen, and surrounding Swains,
If wounded once by some advent'rous Spear,
He sees his blood upon the Ground appear,
Straight double fury gathers in his Eyes,
And on the Foe with double force he flys.
So with a fiercer Fire the Monarch burn'd,
And to the War with greater Rage return'd.
Then with his mighty Spear he did Assail
His valiant Foe; nor Shield, nor Coat of Mail
Nor harden'd Cuirass could its fury stay,
Till glancing on the Ribs it flew away.
The Briton felt the Wound within his Side,
And all his Limbs the streaming Purple dy'd.
The noble Leader rag'd at this Defeat,
But Loss of Blood oblig'd him to retreat.

   Next valiant Horan did the Frank engage,
Fam'd for his Arms and splendid Equipage:
He from the flowry Banks of Isis came,
To win in Gallic Fields heroic Fame.
But in those Fields the Combatant was slain
Unable Clotar 's Fury to sustain.
Then Valiant Malgo shook his pondrous Lance,
And bad his bold Dimetian Troops advance.
He bravely march'd the foremost of the Band,
And charging boldly made a noble Stand.
As when the Rocky Fragments standing up
In a rude Channel oft the Torrent stop
Which during Summer from dissolving Snows
Down the rough Sides of some high Mountain flows.
Obstructed thus the foaming Deluge raves
And roars against the Rocks with all its Waves.
So did the Britons Clotar 's Course oppose,
And in his boyling Veins like Fury rose.
With high Applause great Malgo kept his Ground,
Till feeling in his Head a painful Wound
Inflicted by a Dart which Clotar cast,
His Friends compell'd him to retire at last.

   Then did the Frank with Sword in Hand invade
The British Ranks, and vast Destruction made.
Now grisly Death with Crimson Garlands crown'd,
In horrid Triumph reign'd, while all the Ground
With Helmets, Shields and broken Spears was spread,
With ghastly Spoils, and slaughter'd Heaps of Dead.
When famous Shobar with his watchful Eye
Perceiv'd the British Troops begin to ply,
Highly enrag'd, he call'd aloud to those
Who did his own select Brigade compose,
See, where your Countrymen begin to yield,
And fearing Clotar 's Arms forsake the Field.
Let us advance our Ensigns, to sustain
Our stagg'ring Friends, till they their Ground regain.
With this Applause the Britons all adorn
No rallying Troops so oft to Fight return.
Did now that youthful Vigor warm my Veins
Which once I felt in Lusitanian Plains;
Could I with such a Force the Fauchion weild,
As when I slew Gelanson in the Field,
When Romolar who flew to his Relief,
Fell by the Side of that expiring Chief,
While Rhenus was amaz'd to see its Flood
As once Egyptian Rivers turn'd to Blood;
I would not doubt King Clotar to subdue,
Whose conq'ring Arms our yielding Friends pursue.
But since his Sword such Numbers have destroy'd,
And Arthur 's Arms we see elsewhere employ'd;
I'll stay no longer a Spectator here,
But with King Clotar will exchange a Spear.
Old as I am I will my Fortune try
In Arthur 's Cause I'm not displeas'd to dy.

   Between the rising Fields on either Hand
Where Shobar and King Clotar did command,
A shady Thicket rose, near which the Way
That led between the Franks and Britons, lay.
Moloc who often had with Joy embru'd
His reeking Hands in slaughter'd Christians Blood,
Who thro' their Towns with Hellish Fury past,
And laid with Fire and Sword their Dwellings wast,
Chose fifty Gauls of equal Strength and Rage,
Who did themselves in dreadful Oaths engage,
Ne'er Children Wives or Lands to see again,
Till they had first the mighty Shobar slain.
And when they saw where his stout Squadron staid
They to this Thicket strait themselves convey'd:
That if his Squadron should advance this Way
They with united Arms might Shobar slay.
Now as the Warriour near the Thicket past
Marching to aid his Friends with eager Hast,
The Gallic Foes did from their Ambush spring,
And all at once their furious Javelins sling.
Then with loud Clamour they did onward rush,
And with unequal Force the Hero crush,
While Shobar rais'd his Shield and stood inclin'd,
Th' Ignoble Foe Morander came behind,
And pierc'd between his Armours Skirts his Reins,
And left the Javelin in his bleeding Veins.
Great Shobar wounded with th' inglorious Thrust,
Fell down, and lay besmear'd with Gore and Dust.
A while he lay convuls'd upon the Ground
While his warm Life gush'd from the treacherous Wound.
His warlike Soul flew up to take its Post,
Midst the bright Squadrons of the Heav'nly Host.
Yet his great Life he did not cheaply sell,
For with his fatal Arms before he fell
He Dorlac, Taman and Orbassan slew,
Bruis'd Bodan 's Head and pierc'd Tibaldo thro.
Nor did his Squadron stand Spectators by
As unconcern'd to see great Shobar dy.
For valiant Calmot when he saw the Chief
Opprest with Numbers flew to his Relief.
Calmot to pious Clovis was ally'd,
In Blood and Vertue both, and now he dy'd
Striving insulting Oran 's Blow to ward,
And from the furious Crowd the Chief to guard.

    Altubar next for Arts and Valour known
Strove Shobar 's Life to save, but lost his own.
Next thro' the Files noble Gravellan broke,
But came too late to save the fatal Stroke.
But on the Field he left Moranson dead,
And with his Fauchion struck off Moloc 's Head.
Thus Shobar fell unable to withstand
The suddain Charge of such a desp'rate Band.
The Britons rav'd to see him lying slain
By ignominious Arms upon the Plain.
And to revenge so great a Captain's Fall,
With utmost Rage they charg'd the treach'rous Gaul
Th' amaz'd Conspirators the Fight forsook,
And their swift Flight back to the Thicket took.
Gravellan close pursu'd with Sword in Hand,
And such a Slaughter made that of the Band
Which made the treacherous Onset, only two
Gamol and Arpan from their Fury flew.
Great Shobar 's Fall reveng'd, the valiant Chief
March'd with his Troops to give his Friends Relief.
Who prest too hard by Clotar 's Arms retir'd,
And whom his Presence with fresh Life inspir'd.
When Solmar likewise saw those Troops dismay'd
He brought the Ordovicians to their Aid.
Thus reinforc'd the rallying Britons burn'd
With a new Flame, and to the Fight return'd.

   And now the Franks and Britons high enrag'd,
Were close thro' all the bloody Field engag'd.
Now Files on Files, Cohorts on Cohorts rush,
Steeds Steeds o'erturn, Spearmen at Spearmen push.
Shields ring on Shields, Fauchions with Fauchions clash
And Flames from clatt'ring Arms, like Lightning, flash.
Thick Clouds of Dust obscure th' astonish'd Skys,
And on the Field ghastly Destruction lys.
Buckler lay heap'd on Buckler, Dead on Dead,
And sever'd Limbs and Heads the Ground o'erspread.
Loud Shouts, prodigious Clamour, warlike Sound
From Hill to Hill, from Sphear to Sphear rebound.
The Neighings of the Coursers, and the Noise
Of batt'ring Arms, and raging Captains Voice,
Insulting Threats of Conq'rours, and the Prayer
Of vanquish'd Warriours, fill the ecchoing Air.
As when an Earthquake shakes the cavern'd Soil,
And rocking Mountains of Sicilia 's Isle
Th' imprison'd Tempests bellowing in the Caves
Raise on the heaving Fields amazing Waves.
The Sea no more restrain'd by ancient Shores,
In new unfashion'd Channels foams, and roars.
The Ships, prodigious Sight! o'er Citys ride,
And sail amidst the Land without a Guide.
They leave the Harbour, and the Oazy Shore
To visit Forrests where they grew before.
The gaping Earth within her horrid Jaws
Hills with their Woods and sinking Citys draws.
Nature's disjoynted with the noisy Shock,
Mountain on Mountain falls, and Rock on Rock.
United Clamours and distracting Crys,
Fill all the Land, the Ocean, and the Skys.
So do's the Noise of Arms the Region scare,
Shaking the Ground, and rending all the Air.

    Gaston mean time did their left Wing invade,
And thro' the British Files great Slaughter made.
He march'd along the Plain with Martial Grace,
Mighty of Bulk, and of Gigantic Race.
A while as Conq'rour he maintain'd the Field,
And to his Force the Britons long did yield.
Till aided by a fresh and strong Recruit
They rally'd, and reviv'd the hot Dispute.
The Britons with their Troops encompass'd round
Gaston advanc'd too far on hostile ground.
Archers their Arrows on the Champion spend,
And clouds of Spears the shouting Spearmen send.
Yet bravely still the Frank his ground maintain'd,
And on his ample Shield the War sustain'd.
So when arm'd Swains on the fam'd banks of Nile
Beset a fierce, Voracious Crocadile,
In vain their Darts, in vain their Spears assail
His scaly Sides, and native Coat of Mail.
On his hard Back they pour a fruitless War,
Which strait recoyls, but can't imprint a Scar.
So did the temper'd Steel unpierc'd repel
The Weapons which on Gaston 's Buckler fell,
Like an Egyptian Obelisk he stood,
Or as a lofty brazen Pillar show'd,
Which grateful Citys out of high respect,
To Princes or Victorious Chiefs erect.
Thus stood the mighty Champion and defy'd
The various Deaths which flew on every side.
With proud Disdain he travers'd all the Ground
Then stood, and cast his Haughty Eyes around.
Aloud he cry'd, what have you not a Knight
In Battle bold, and brave enough in Fight
To come out hither and his fame advance,
By being slain by Gaston 's Conquering Lance.
Then let him come, let him his Valour try,
And chuse the way by which he'd rather dy.
Will none step forth his name to Eternize,
For that he gains, who by this Weapon dys.
While Gaston thus the British Knights defy'd,
And stalk'd around the Field in all his Pride.
The British Monarch he descry'd from far
Advancing thro' the Files to seek the War.
Then cry'd the Frank, yonder his Arms I see
On which depend your hopes of Victory.
He will not sure decline the glorious Fight,
Nor seek his Safety by a shameful Flight.
By this time Flying on with eager hast
Arthur advanc'd within a Javlin's cast,
Then thus he Cry'd, Gaston a Foe appears
Not us'd to Idle words, but active Spears.
Then from his Arm his mighty Spear he cast,
Exploded Light'ning scarcely flys so fast,
Which the strong Hero 's sevenfold Buckler struck,
It past Six folds, but in the last it stuck.
Then Gaston with enormous fury burn'd,
And his Vast Spear with mighty force return'd.
When to discharge the Weapon he prepar'd,
He all his brawny Sinews strain'd so hard,
Such strength employ'd to give a mortal Stroke,
That as he threw, Fire from his Eyeballs broke.
Arthur who ne'er had felt the power of Fear
Receiv'd within his Shield the massy Spear.
Within the outmost folds the Point stuck fast,
And not the middle of its thickness past.
A shiv'ring Dread thro' both the Armys went,
On either side they fear'd the vast event.
Now from their Shields the Spears the Heros drew,
The next the British King with Vigor threw.
It pass'd his Shield, and passing did divide
The treble Plate, and fourfold Bullock's Hide,
Then pierc'd his Belly with a dreadful Wound,
Which tore his Flesh, that clos'd his Bowels round.
The Frank no longer could in Combate stand,
But threw his Spear and Buckler on the Sand,
And held his reeking Entrails in his Hand.
Off from the Field the wounded Chief did fly,
And fill'd the Region with a dismal Cry.
So when a bold Rhinoceros in Fight
With a strong Elephant compares his Might:
The noble Combate all the Forest fills,
And Terror strikes thro' all th' ecchoing Hills.
This with his Trunk invades, and every Blow
Rings on the scaly Armour of the Foe:
Who with his Horn do's on th' Assailant rush,
And makes a furious but a fruitless push.
The Warriours long a doubtful Fight maintain,
And spend a thousand noble Strokes in vain.
Till the Rhinoceros do's gore by chance
The Foe's soft Belly with his Horny Lance.
Then do's the Monster roar in tort'ring Pain,
And flying drags his Entrails o'er the Plain.

   Mean time King Clotar with his massy Spear
His Passage to the Quarter strove to clear,
Where the Britannic King victorious stood,
And murth'ring Caliburno reek'd in Blood.
But as the raging Monarch swiftly past
High in the Chariot, valiant Maca cast
His furious Spear, which cut the liquid Air
Attended with the pious Warriour's Prayer.
Who cry'd, Good Heav'ns, the Weapon's Flight assist
And let not Clotar 's Shield its Force resist;
Pierc'd by the Steel may he extended ly;
Kind Heav'n in part, did with the Prayer comply.
The Plate the Weapon's Progress could not stay
Which thro' the Monarch's Thigh strait made its Way.
A bloody Torrent all the Chariot stain'd,
And of his Wound the tortur'd King complain'd.
Exclaiming loud he bad his Charioteer
Turn his hot Steeds, and drive him to the Rear.

   Soon as the Franks observ'd their Chief's defeat
And saw their Monarch from the Field retreat,
Their scatter'd Troops dismaid began to yield,
And disarray'd forsook the bloody Field.
The British Youth pursu'd them as they fled,
And all the Ground with fearful Slaughter spred.
Till Night advancing did their Fury stay,
Night to the Franks more welcome than the Day.


   The Chiefs returning from the hot Pursuit
Did with becoming Joy their Friends salute.
But all lamented mighty Shobar 's Fall,
A Chief rever'd, applauded, lov'd by all.
But summon'd now King Arthur to attend
To his high Tent they did their Footsteps bend.
The British Monarch from his Chair of State
Began, the Captains did around him wait.

   Th' Allmighty Lord of Hosts whom we adore
Has added to the past this Triumph more.
First to propitious Heav'n the Praise is due
For this Success, and next, brave Men, to you.
Your Arms this Day have rais'd the British Name,
And equall'd your great Father's Warlike Fame.
The Courage and the Conduct you have shown,
Your Faithfulness long try'd, and so well known,
Assure me, you will Clotar 's Force sustain,
Whilst I my Troops forsake to pass the Main.
Know, Britons, some in Albion left behind,
Impatient, proud, and turbulent of Mind,
Intestine Heats and civil Feuds create,
And with seditious Arts embroil the State.
I therefore to Britannia must return
To quench the Flames wherewith the Britons burn.
When from its Fears my Kingdom I have freed,
Back to the Camp I'll come with equal Speed.
Till I return to the Neustrasian Strand,
Solmar in chief my Army shall command.
Seek not again t' engage the Gallic Host,
But with defensive Arms maintain your Post.
Such valiant Troops can never be annoy'd,
If private Strife and Contests they avoid.

   He ceas'd. The Captains by their Aspect show'd
The Joy was sunk which from their Conquest flow'd.
They griev'd to hear the pious King relate
What Strife embroil'd Britannia 's troubled State;
Which forc'd him to forsake the Gallic Soil,
To re-establish Peace in Albion 's Isle.
Then from his Princely Seat King Arthur rose
Intending Albion 's Tumults to compose.

   Now did the Morn her radiant Lap display,
And gently on the Air shook forth the Day.
When strait the King his Chariot did demand,
And took his Way to the Neustrasian Strand.
Valiant Gravellan did his Prince attend,
And faithful Lucius Arthur 's bosom Friend.
Soon as they reach'd the Shore without Delay
They all embark'd, and strait stood out to Sea.
The bounding Vessel ran before the Wind,
Leaving Neustrasia 's Rocks and Towers behind.
And when the rising Sun dispell'd the Night,
The Regnian Strand appear'd within their Sight.
Soon as they came on Shore they took the Way
To Domar 's Castle , there resolv'd to stay,
Till brave Gravellan should return, who sent
To learn the State of things t' Augusta went,
And down from thence his chiefest Frinds to bring
Fit to assist and to advise the King.
Thrice had th' unweary'd Sun his Chariot driv'n
O'er the wide Plains and trackless Wast of Heav'n.
When the wise Lord return'd, and with him came
The Peers and Prelates of distinguish'd Fame
For Zeal and Wisdom, Men who ever stood
For Arthur 's Glory, and their Country's Good.

   Then Albion 's pious Monarch Silence broke
And thus the Prelates and the Peers bespoke.
For Britain 's Safety to express my Care
I leave in Gallia an unfinish'd War.
My Arms have met Success, but Zeal for you
Will not permit our Conquests to pursue.
What Feuds some Peers and Prelates ill dispos'd
Have rais'd, Gravellan has before disclos'd,
But what has happen'd since do you relate,
And tell the present Posture of the State.
Suggest some ready and effectual Way
To check Sedition, and its Progress stay.
Britannia might despise all forreign Power,
If from contentious Sons she stood secure.
Her Strength abroad is formidable grown,
No Arms can shake her Greatness but her own.
Only our Strife can Clotar 's Empire Guard,
Obstruct our Triumphs, and our Arms retard.
Only your Feuds can sinking Gallia prop,
Your Feuds their Refuge, and their single hope.

   Then Reverend Arman for his Learning known
And his Capacious Genius thus begun.
Illustrious Monarch! whose Victorious hand
From Pagan Kings and Gods has sav'd the Land,
Urg'd by Affection and a Loyal Zeal,
The Cause of our Distractions I'll reveal.
The Liberty Sectarians have enjoy'd
By your Indulgence, has our Peace destroy'd.
At first they cry'd, Indulgence would content,
Ease they demanded, but Dominion meant.
For since from Punishment they live secure,
And dread no more an unarm'd Church's Power,
They now disclose their Malice, and their Pride,
Affront our Order, and our Laws deride.
They boast the Court Sectarians dos befriend,
And dare for Empire with the Church contend.
Freedom and Ease they know not how to use,
But gentle Monarchs favours still abuse.
Peevish, Illnatur'd, Proud and Arrogant
They crave still more, and still more Merit vaunt.
Those who to give a troubled Kingdom Ease
Cherish these restless Sects, do but release
Outragious Winds to calm th' unquiet Seas.
Such call the Foe in, to Protect the Town,
Or dig before the Flood their Fences down.
This Pious Prince is sad Britannia 's fate
While Sects let loose disturb our Church and State.
Cheer'd with indulgent Rays the monstrous Brood
Like Vermin hatch'd in Nile 's prolific Mud,
O'erspread the Land, th' uneasy State molest,
Devour our Country, and the Church infest.
The Sediment which at the bottom lay
From the pure Church thrown down and purg'd away,
Awaken'd now, attempts a fresh ascent,
And with new Strife the Struggling Parts ferment.
Sectarian Dreggs audacious are become,
Rise up and on the top appear in Scum.
The Church can ne'er be from Disorders free
Till fin'd, and rackt from this unquiet Lee.
I labour'd once to give Sectarians Ease,
And thought Indulgence might Establish Peace;
With Youthful Zeal I did assert their Cause,
And strove to blunt the Edge of Penal Laws.
But long Experience and Maturer Thought
Make me retract the Deed, and own the Fault.
I know th' Ambitious Race, they only claim
The Right of Subjects, but at Empire aim.
Which when they grasp, they Cruel Tyrants grow
And unknown Rigour to their Subjects show.
They lash with Scorpions, who complain'd before
Of the mild Whips that show'd the Churches Power.
With Tragic Clamours they for Freedom strive,
Which they when Masters ne'er to others give.
The Church's temperate Empire they destroy,
That they themselves a wider may enjoy.
'Tis not in point of Power we disagree,
But who should be the Rulers they or we.
For, pious Prince, since by Compassion mov'd
You first th' Indulgence of the Sects approv'd,
Th' aspiring Race deliver'd from the Awe
Of Court Displeasure, and coercive Law,
Stand over us insulting, threaten high
And treat with Scorn the sacred Hierarchy.
Their Contumacy, Pride, and Insolence
Justly the Lovers of the Church Incense.
Her Sons too far transported with their Rage,
For her Protection now in Arms engage.
The Trait'rous Deed all highly must condemn,
But would you soon th' impetuous Torrent stem,
Would you at once the threatning Troops disarm,
Which o'er Brittania 's troubled Region swarm,
Against audacious Schismaticks declare,
With Vigor carry on the Pious War.
Revoke th' Indulgence granted, and restore
To Britain 's ancient Church her ancient Power.
Her Friends whom now too much Resentment warms,
Will at your royal Feet cast down their Arms.
This pious Edict will their Troops disband,
Secure your Throne, and bless with Peace the Land.
Then mighty Monarch unmolested you
Your glorious Triumphs may abroad pursue.

He said, and ancient Ladan silence broke
And gravely thus the British King bespoke.
Th' Expedient Reverend Arman do's suggest,
T' appease the Tumults which the State molest.
Great Prince, do's fully with my Judgment suit;
It lays the Axe home to Sedition's Root.
The civil Broils which Albion discompose
From Fears and anxious Jealousies arose,
Lest the proud Sects which kindly you protect,
Should once their Empire o'er the Church erect.
'Tis true, that some who with the Rebels joyn,
Their Country's Fall, and Gallia 's Growth design;
But if those Troops which for the Church appear
Submit their Arms, the rest we need not fear.
Now 'tis with Reason that the Church suspects
The Growth of proud, morose, designing Sects.
I've long observ'd their Pride and Arrogance,
And what destructive Doctrines they advance.
Where they prevail the Church is soon defac'd,
Becomes a wild, uncultivated Wast.
A horrid Wilderness wherein we see
The monstrous Forms of howling Heresy.
Where Grisly Schism, and raging Strife appear
And raving Sects each other rend and tear.
Where mad Enthusiasm and Discord reign,
And endless Errors endless War maintain.
These sad Effects their Liberty abus'd
Thro' Albion 's Isle already has produc'd.
Audacious Schismaticks with lawless Pride
Affront the Church, and all her Laws deride.
Now Heresy her odious Head do's rear,
And fresh engender'd Monsters thick appear,
Which run upon the Church with open Jaws
And fasten in her Wounds their dreadful Claws.
Ev'n ancient Heresys which once annoy'd
The Church's Peace, but seem'd long since destroy'd,
Now chear'd and warm'd by this indulgent Heat,
Stretch out their hideous Limbs, and Life and Vigor get.
Since the Rebellious Britons but reveal
In a Religious Cause an erring Zeal,
And for themselves alledge they flew to Arms
To save their Altars from the Foe's Alarms;
I must for Arman 's wise Advice declare,
As likely to prevent th' Effects of War.
Th' Indulgence granted to the Sects revoke
And thus Sedition's quell'd without a Stroke.

   He ceas'd. And Reverend Olbar rose and spoke.
The Gospel Genius and a Christian Mind
All fierce destructive Methods still declin'd.
Our Founder did not raise his Regal Throne
By his Opposers Suff'rings, but his own.
He gave his Church no Arms for her Defence,
But Wisdom joyn'd with Dove-like Innocence.
He always taught his Followers to profess
Meekness Divine, and God-like Gentleness.
When urg'd by eager Zealots to employ
Fire ev'n from Heav'n Opposers to destroy,
He us'd no other Flames, but those of Love,
The gentle Fire he brought down from above.
The blest Restorer of undone Mankind
With soft and mild perswasive Ways inclin'd
The World his Heav'nly Mission to believe,
And his bright Train of Blessings to receive.
He us'd no other Force, no other Arms
But Mercy's tender Crys and Pity's Charms.
And all his Followers he oblig'd to be
Gentle, and kind, and merciful as he.
He gave Command they should in Friendship live,
Patient of Wrongs, and easie to forgive.
Mutual Forbearance, Meekness, Peace and Love
Which fashion Men like the pure Minds above,
He oft declar'd were Heav'nly Marks disign'd
To make them known from th' unbelieving Kind.
He never arm'd his Church with Regal Power,
Nor bad the strong the weaker Part devour.
He to the valiant Champions of the Faith
Allow'd the Serpent's Wisdom, not his Teeth.
He came from Heav'n lost Blessings to restore
But took from Men none they possest before.
He ne'er pronounc'd Error or Unbelief,
Just Forfeitures of Liberty or Life.
He never bad his Church for Arms declare
Nor taught the Rules and Stratagems of War.
He never show'd them how Campaigns to make,
How to defend, and how they should attack.
He ne'er instructed them in future Days
When numerous grown, what Bulwarks they should raise.
What Forts and Cittadels they should erect
The Church's sacred Frontier to protect.
He came to save Mens Lives, and not to Kill,
And therefore taught no Military Skill.
No Models left of Arsenals to be reer'd,
Nor said what Warlike Stores should be prepar'd.
His Church he ne'er Commanded to Amass
Spears, Fauchions, Helmets, Shields and Boots of Brass.
Her Valiant Champions first with Error strove
In Arms Divine, and Armour from above,
Immortal Truth, and Light, and Heav'nly Love.
Thus Arm'd the Chiefs their glorious Course pursu'd,
Defeated Vice, and Ignorance subdu'd.
Error before them fled, and Pagan Gods
Of Light impatient, left their old abodes.
Then a wide Empire Christian Faith possest,
And Truth Divine Believing Nations blest.
The White European and the Swarthy Moor ,
With a like flame Religion did adore.
So powerful then were her Celestial Arms,
So bright her Form, so ravishing her Charms,
That where she came th' obsequious World obey'd,
And at her Altars due Devotion paid.
But when she once her Heav'nly Strength forsook,
And in Exchange Terrestrial Weapons took,
When Martial Faith in Armour first appear'd,
And in the Field her bloody Standard reer'd,
Advancing like an Amazonian Dame
To vanquish Heresy with Sword and Flame;
The World at such a Figure stood amaz'd,
And on the hideous Sight with horror gaz'd.
Against her Throne the Nations soon rebell'd,
And Arms with Arms, and Power with Power repell'd.
Her Innocence, her Love, and Meekness lost,
The warlike Church could no new Triumphs boast.
She soon was stopt in her Victorious Course,
Weak by her Arms, and impotent by Force.
Christ's peaceful Flock with Wolves devouring Jaws,
And his meek Dove arm'd with the Faulcon's Claws,
Prodigious Monsters to the World appear'd,
No longer to be lov'd, and scarcely fear'd.

   Religion thus against it self was arm'd,
And Civil War the troubled Church alarm'd!
Temple contended Temple to subdue,
And Flames from Altars, against Altars flew.
Religion endless Revolutions saw,
And all by turns were Orthodox by Law.
The Men condemn'd for Hereticks before
Grew Apostolic, as they grew in Power.
Prevailing Sects did weaker Sects invade,
And Desolation not Conversions made.
For Pain and Suff'rings may indeed affright,
But can't perswade us with Convincing Light.
Torments 'tis true strong Arguments appear,
But 'tis not to our Reason, but our Fear.
Our Heav'nly Founder who at distance saw
Ambitious Churchmen back'd with Power and Law,
Their Peaceful Neigbours would with force invade,
Disarm'd the Gown, and Violence forbad.
Nor do those Princes for their Peace provide,
Who with one Sect against all others side.
Those Counsels therefore Arman gives for Peace
Both as unjust, and dangerous too, displease.

   He ceas'd. Then noble Sefel did begin,
Of Prince like Presence, and Majestic Mien.
A noble Genius to the Muses dear,
Yet none knew better how the State to steer
Whom every Minister and every Bard
With equal Awe, and Rev'rence did regard.
To form the wondrous Man great Pompey 's Mind,
And Tully 's flowing Eloquence combin'd.
All Orators grew proud who gain'd his praise,
And where he pleas'd he gave the Poet's Bays.
All charg'd with lessening or debasing Wit
His Sentence did Condemn, or did Acquit.
The trembling Bards at his Tribunal stood,
None prais'd their Songs, till he pronounc'd them good.
None strove with greater Prudence to compose
Contentious Heats, which in the Church arose.
Then this wise Briton thus himself exprest,
And show'd how Albion 's Strife might be supprest.

   Subjects who Tribute to their Monarch pay,
And Peacefully his just Commands obey,
With highest Justice from their Prince expect
He should their Lives and Libertys protect.
No Errors in Religion can destroy
Th' Immunitys which we, as Men, enjoy.
Those whom the Churchmen as Sectarians blame,
Lose not the Rights which they as Subjects claim.
The Sacred Laws our Heav'nly Author made,
Were not to force Belief, but to Perswade.
Prisons were ne'er for Christian Schools design'd,
Nor Whips and Racks for Arguments enjoyn'd.
Unless our Wills could Laws to Reason give,
And Man could what he pleas'd, as Truth believe,
Force for Conversion is employ'd in vain;
Whose Judgment ever was inform'd by Pain?
Churches should Arms forbear till they agree
On some unerring mark of Heresy.
Some Christians call'd, of Antichristian mind,
To Force and not to Argument inclin'd.
To take the Sword lay down the Pastor's Crook,
And into Wolves convert their Peaceful Flock.
Forth against Schism they march exclaiming loud,
And make the Church a reeking Field of Blood.
These Sons of Thunder thus the Gospel Preach,
And red in Slaughter Heav'nly Meekness teach.
These Men perswade, and make their Doctrines known,
Not by th' Almighty's Terrours, but their own.
Declining Reason's mild perswasive Course,
They Press for Heav'n, and Christians Lift by force.
These from the Temple's Battlements display
The bloody Flag, and draw out in Array
Their Warlike Orders, who Embattled stand
With Sabres, not the Gospel in their hand.
Then breathing Fire, they March Mankind to free
From Hereticks, as well as Heresy.
How ill her Arms and Military dress
The Gentle, Meek and Passive Church express?
How will this Equipage and strange disguise,
The mild Restorer of Mankind surprise?
How will he like his Vineyard which appears
A Bulwark'd Camp all planted o'er with Spears?
How will he know his Church in Tented Fields,
Midst Chariots, Steeds, bright Helms and blazing Shields?
How will he know her when with Conquest proud,
Laden with Spoils and Garments roll'd in blood?
These Arm'd Evangelists must sure displease
Their Gentle Lord, the Prince of Love and Peace.
When Converts first were in Britannia made,
The Christian Planters only did perswade.
When they were few, easy to be supprest,
Then the Religion which the Sword possest,
Was not allow'd a Right to crush the rest:
Then Persecution was aloud condemn'd,
And Violence the highest Crime esteem'd.
And shall the Christians strong and numerous grown,
The Maxims which advanc'd their Church disown?
Shall they Assert an Antichristian Power
Their disagreeing Neighbours to devour,
Which if the Pagan Princes had employ'd,
The Christian Church long since had been destroy'd?

   But grant the Church Sectarians may restrain
Inflicting rigorous Penaltys and Pain,
Grant too that this the Rebels will appease,
Who will have none, if others have their Ease?
Will this Britannia 's troubled State compose,
Or dry the Spring whence our Disturbance flows?
Will not th' opprest Sectarian think it hard
To be of Rights to Subjects due debar'd?
Will Arthur thus their Services reward?
Those who themselves and humane Nature know
Foresee the Mischiefs that from hence must flow.
Those whom unjust Severities provoke
Will struggle hard to break th' uneasy Yoke.
All will conspire, as they Occasion find,
To sink a Government to them unkind.
Whom States oppress they Enemys create,
Who, when they safely can, express their Hate.
If Princes but a Party will protect,
They on a narrow Base their Throne erect,
And can't be more than Monarchs of a Sect.
Wise Princes who would lasting Peace create,
And from all restless Bigots save the State,
Should not on any side their Power engage,
But guard the weaker from the Stronger's Rage.
No Fav'rite Party should their Sword employ,
Those, whom they cannot proselite, to destroy.
Wise Parents if their Sons for Power contest,
Will no one aid to Ruin all the rest.
Monarchs who seek their own and Subjects Ease,
Between contending Sects should keep the Peace.
All will obey when all Protection find,
And Rev'rence Kings without Distinction kind.
Could greater Number, Power, or Splendor shew
What Churches are erroneous, what are true,
Yet peaceful Subjects have a just Pretence
To be secur'd from Force and Violence:
I still would guard Sectarians from the Awe
Of Courts of Justice and coercive Law.
This will to all the Government commend,
And every Subject will be too a Friend.
Freely to speak my Sense in this Debate,
The Way suggested to compose the State
By ceasing all Sectarians to protect,
Because not just, nor wise, I would reject.
I would perswade King Arthur to decree,
And strait proclaim a gen'ral Amnesty.
This would the Rebels into Friends convert,
And make the British Youth their Chiefs desert.
The Britons soon grow hot, but soon repent,
They threaten high, but with soft Words relent.
Their Love to Liberty and ancient Laws,
Oft turns to Jealousy without a Cause:
With whose impatient Flames they quickly burn,
But to their Temper do as soon return.
Their Passions swell, but easily subside,
Kind Looks, and Words repress th' o'erflowing Tide.
The Rebels sure must dread King Arthur 's Name,
And think on their Ingratitude with Shame.
The common Men by specious Words misled
Begin the fatal Consequence to dread.
A general Pardon then to all declare
And you prevent the sad Effects of War.

   He ceas'd and most applauded his Advice:
The British Monarch, as an Angel wise,
Who by his God-like Temper was inclin'd
To Pity, and support opprest Mankind,
With Olbar 's and with Sefel 's Language mov'd
Their Prudence and their Piety approv'd.

   Mean time the Rebels at Cononium lay,
And as their Head did Morogan obey,
When they had heard that on the Regnian Strand,
The pious King was safely come to Land.
Their Monarch's Presence some began to dread,
And in their Breasts a secret Terror fed.
They trembled at his Arms, and Warlike Fame,
And seem'd already vanquish'd with his Name.
Some of a less ungrateful Mind begun
To think of all the Wonders he had done
And what his Arms had for Britannia won.
How to a Thousand various Dangers, he
To save Britannia 's State by Land and Sea,
Midst Storms and more inexorable Foes,
His sacred Life did freely oft expose.
What vast Herculean Toyl he underwent
Albion 's impending Ruin to prevent.
What Patience, what amazing Fortitude,
The God-like Man in endless Labour shew'd,
Britannia 's Peace and Freedom to restore,
To raise her Glory, and extend her Power.
Many for this who dar'd in Arms appear
Mov'd by their Gratitude, or by their Fear
In numerous Bodys did the Camp forsake,
And by Desertion left the Rebels weak.
They now their Levity, and Folly mourn'd,
And to their Houses and their Farms return'd.
Amongst the Rebels hence disorders grew,
And great Distrust and Contests did ensue.
The Leaders saw they could no more depend
On their rash Troops their Treason to defend.
They found the British Youth would never stand
Against an Host where Arthur did Command.

   Then Morogan perplex'd his Servants sent,
To call the Chief Commanders to his Tent:
That they might all things prudently debate
That to th' Important Juncture did relate.
Straight to their Gen'rals high Pavilion came
The Chiefs of highest Trust, and greatest Name.
To whom the General thus himself addrest,
Britons, you see the Zeal which some exprest
For Albion 's Liberty is soon expir'd:
You see, what Troops are from our Camp retir'd.
A fresh example here, brave Friends, you see
Of the weak Vulgars Fear and Levity.
Speak what you think a prudent Man should do,
Shall we desist, or our Design pursue?
Then many Chiefs did various ways suggest
Which they believ'd in this Conjuncture best.
But while in sharp debate they did oppose
Each other's Counsel, great disturbance rose.

   Then Adal who in Wisdom all the rest,
And Eloquence excell'd, his Thoughts exprest.
Britons, with great astonishment we see
The Wavering Crowd do's from our Banners flee.
The Vulgar we by this sad Instance find,
As Seas unstable, changing as the Wind.
All our Affairs are now in such a State,
As must oblige us to Capitulate.
With any Terms King Arthur will comply,
That shall disarm a British Enemy.
His Heart is so on Foreign Conquest set,
He'll easily what's done at home forget.
He would abroad be for a Hero shown,
Nor cares at home to know or to be known.
To our Demands no doubt he'll soon assent,
Domestic War and Tumults to prevent.
The Terms on which I'm willing to agree,
Are first an Universal Amnesty.
That all who please may undisturb'd retreat,
Or to their City, or their Rural Seat.
And all who in the State have been employ'd
Shall keep the Places they before enjoy'd.
But all the Chiefs and Captains who declare
They'll serve King Arthur in his Foreign War,
When they attend him to the Gallic Land,
They in his Troops shall have the same Command.
He ceas'd. The rest fearing an ill Event,
In loud Applauses gave a full Assent.
So when the Dogs that chase a timorous Hind
Which o'er the Lawns flys swifter than the Wind,
Are at a fault, and now enjoy no more
The cheerful Scent that lay so hot before:
If some Stanch Hound who rarely do's mistake,
In great Esteem and Credit with the Pack,
Opens, to tell that he the Scent has found,
The rest attending to the joyful sound,
In his Experience and his Skill confide,
And follow with full Cry their faithful Guide.

   Then four Commanders from the rest they chose,
In whom they all could Confidence repose.
Who to the Castle where King Arthur lay,
To make this Overture strait took their way.
Where they arriv'd during the great debate,
About the measures to compose the State.
Which ended, they admitted to the King,
The Message told they had in Charge to bring.
The Pious Monarch who his Subjects lov'd,
By tender Mercy and Compassion mov'd,
To win the Rebels hearts did soon agree,
To grant the Universal Amnesty.
Nor did he think it prudent to withstand,
Those other Terms the Rebels did demand.
That he henceforth might undisturb'd pursue
His high design King Clotar to subdue.
That he his Forreign Conquests might repeat,
And the Deliv'rance of the Gauls compleat.
For Crafty Adal wisely did suggest
That the chief Passion in King Arthur 's breast
Was Liberty to Neustria to restore,
And free the Christian Franks from Clotar 's power.

   The Messengers that from the Rebels went
Back to their Friends were by King Arthur sent.
Where they their Monarch's gracious Pardon read,
As was agreed, at every Squadron's head.
That done, the Chiefs did all their Troops disband,
And from Seditious Uproar freed the Land.
Thus did Britannia 's jarring Discord Cease,
And in its place return'd Harmonious Peace.
So soon King Arthur 's Fame and Presence quell'd
The Discontented Britons who Rebel'd.
As when a Heav'nly Angel comes to Chase
Infernal Fiends from some Inchanted Place.
Forthwith th' Inchantment's force is gone, and Hell
No longer Aids the black Magician's Spell.
Th' Imaginary Castles disappear,
The brazen Gates and Bulwarks melt to Air.
No Warriours more in Airy Armour stand,
Griping prodigious Bucklers in their hand:
Phantastic Monsters are no longer seen,
But all the Pageant Horrors quit the Scene.
The struggling Air throws off the Magic Chains,
And strait appear sweet Meads and flowry Plains.
So all the Terrours which did Albion feare,
At Arthur 's Presence vanish'd into Air.

   The Briton who with ardent Zeal did burn,
Back to his Troops in Gallia to return.
Now all things for his Voyage did prepare,
And to protect Britannia did declare
What Lords he did invest with Regal Power
In whom both Prince and People were Secure.

    Olbar was first a mild and prudent Guide,
Who o'er Britannia 's Churches did preside.
Nor Care nor Pains th' Indulgent Pastor spar'd,
Nor Vigilance his Flock to Feed and Guard.
His Erudition did their Reverence move,
And his diffusive Charity their Love.
His Christian Temper oft Contention charm'd,
And the hot Bigots of all Sects disarm'd.
By Moderation, Patience, Gentleness
And Candor which to all he did express.
He ever strove th' Erroneous to reduce,
Who to the Church Obedience did refuse.
But he Employ'd to set their Judgments right,
No Force but Reason's mild but powerful Light.
Resolv'd on Truth and not on Power to stand
He did the Lictors of the Church disband.

    Arista was the next whom all Men prais'd,
To Honour by distinguish'd Merit rais'd.
Such was his Justice, such his Eloquence
So strong his Thought, so solid was his Sense,
So well his Wisdom was in Albion known,
That all his Judgment prais'd, to shew their own.
His universal Genius was refin'd
With Sciences, and Arts of every kind,
All held with Ease in his capacious Mind.
In Arthur 's Cause he did such Zeal declare,
To serve the State such was his Toyl and Care,
None his high Station did with Envy view,
For all believ'd it to his Merit due.
He with his Wit could when he pleas'd surprise,
But he supprest it, choosing to be Wise.
None better knew the Business of the State,
Clear as the Day, and as the Night sedate.
Fav'rite and Patriot he the Secret knew
How both to Prince and People to be true.
He made their Intrests one, and shew'd the Way
To serve the first, and not the last betray.
Happy Britannia had in after Days
Thy Statesmen strove thy Glory thus to raise.
Had they not toyl'd with anxious Care and Sweat,
To make themselves, and not their Country great.
Had they not Law and Right and Justice sold,
And form'd their Judgments by inlight'ning Gold.

    Hebar was next of noble Parents born,
No Peer did more King Arthur 's Count adorn
Nor Archimedes, nor the Stagirite
Could boast a clearer intellectual Light.
For he th' extensive Power of Nature knew
Whose secret Springs lay open to his View.
She all her wondrous Skill to him disclos'd,
And all the Myst'ry of her Work expos'd.
Great was his Genius as by Nature wrought,
But 'twas by Art to such Perfection brought,
By Contemplation and laborious Thought.
Tho Nature, Art and painful Industry
To make th' accomplish'd Man did all agree,
Yet was he humble, affable, and kind
The true Distinctions of a noble Mind.
All in a Statesman were amaz'd to see
Such spotless Honour, and Integrity.
Courteous without betraying Vertue's Cause,
Just to his Prince, but not beyond the Laws.
He both to Church and State alike was true,
And gave to Cæsar and to God their Due.

    Canvallo next. The Land did not afford
To represent a King a fitter Lord.
No Peer did ever grace the British Court
With such a noble and Majestic Port.
Like Saul amidst the Hebrew Knights he stood,
His Head and Shoulders rais'd above the Crowd.
And yet with no less Kindness Nature joyn'd
To such a graceful Frame an equal Mind.

   The next was Galbut of illustrious Birth,
Of perfect Honour, and unrivall'd Worth.
Whose Vertues thro' the Isle assiduous Fame
Yet for the Task unequal did proclaim.

   With these King Arthur Sakil did unite,
Sakil the People's and the Court's Delight.
Arthur did envy'd Favour to him shew,
As all wise Monarchs to the Muses do.
So the fam'd Conquerour of the spacious East
To the great Stagyrite his Love exprest,
Augustus so the Roman Wit carest.

    Danmonian was the last, a noble Lord
Bred in a Court, yet faithful to his Word.
All in his Honour might securely trust,
To promise slow, but in Performance just.
His Words were full and pertinent, but few,
For sparingly he spoke, but always true.
None better knew the Art of Government
To guard the State, and Dangers to prevent.
Skilful to lay a Masterly Design,
And as expert the Foe to undermine.

   These were the noble Lords King Arthur chose,
In whom th' important Trust he might repose.
He did to these commit th' Imperial Power,
Yet they with Pain the Weight of Empire bore
Which singly he with Ease sustain'd before.
Thus did the Hero Albion 's State appease
And settled all things for its future Ease.
And now he wish'd himself on Neustria 's Coast,
Impatient to rejoyn the British Host.
Back to his Ships with eager Hast he flew,
His glorious Undertaking to pursue.


   The Prince of Hell finding his purpose crost,
And all his hopes from Albion 's Troubles lost,
Thus to himself began all fir'd with Rage.
Against this Briton must we then engage
Our Arts in vain, must he our Force repel,
And disappoint the deep Designs of Hell?
Must he continue to advance his Arms,
And vex our Empire with his loud Alarms;
Hard Fate, Infernal Gods, if this proud Wight
Must scape our Snares, and baffle all our might.
Still with Success have I the Sect pursu'd,
Vanquish'd their Armys, and their Towns subdu'd.
If Force and open Violence have fail'd,
Discord and mighty Schism have still prevail'd.
Their strongest Bulwarks have I overthrown
Or by my Subjects Arms, or by their own.
And shall this Briton thus my Power defeat,
And force my Priests and Vot'rys to retreat
And fly from Town to Town, from Seat to Seat?
If Aid I can't to high Lutetia bring,
And guard her Towers against the British King,
I must my Temples Abdicate, and make
My fixt abode within th' Infernal Lake.
Did I exert such Strength, such Toyl sustain
T' invade this World, did I with wondrous pain
And wondrous Art beat out th' untrodden way
Till Earth I found and the Mild Coasts of Day?
From Hell's Abyss with mighty Force I sprung,
And in the Stagnant, gloomy Region hung;
Unbroken with my Flight and endless Care,
With lab'ring Wings I beat the pondrous Air.
Without a glympse or ray of Light I past
The Realms of Night, and all the Stygian wast,
Till I arriv'd upon the noisy Shore
Where the Tempestuous waves of Chaos roar:
With God-like Courage and with Looks unchang'd
I plung'd into the Deep, and o'er the Desart rang'd.
Now soaring high I did the way explore,
Now round I flew, now swept the bleaky Shore.
Undaunted I pursu'd my toilsom Flight
O'er horrid Wilds, and lonesome Plains of Night;
Thro' dreadful Tempests, Whirlwinds, blustring War
Fierce Strife, and hostile Rage, till from afar
I did with wondrous Joy descry at last
Some Streaks of Light, which darted on the Wast;
Pale Beams that on the face of Chaos lay
The glim'ring Fragments of the Ruin'd Day.
Mounting this way I reach'd the lightsome Sky;
And saw the beauteous World before me ly.
The fresh Creation look'd all charming mild,
And all the Flowry Face of Nature smil'd.
To me come newly from the Caves beneath
Thro' Smoke and Flame, what an Ambrosial breath
What Odours, such as Heav'nly Zephirs blow
From the sweet Mouth of th' Infant World did flow?
Charm'd with the Clime and ravish'd with the Air
To gain these Regions was my anxious Care.
And spite of Heav'n the mighty Deed was done,
And from th' Allmighty this fair World I won.
Shall I so rich and sweet a Region quit
And see my Franks to Christian Arms submit?
If all the Arts, and all the Power of Hell
Can stop his Course, the Briton I'll repel.

   Mean time upon his Adamantine Throne sate
That high amidst th' Etherial Region shone
Th' Eternal Sate, collected in his Might,
Girt with Omnipotence, and cloath' d with Light.
The Sons of God who serve his high Command
Adoring round the sacred Mount did stand:
Angels, Arch-Angels, great Seraphic States
Heav'n's Viceroys, Generals, and great Potentates,
Who o'er Terrestrial Provinces preside,
And their respective Realms, and Empires guide
The mighty Princes of the spacious East
With Ganges Flood and fam'd Euphrates blest.
The Guardian Angels which for Parthia stand,
Who rule soft Persia and th' Arabian Sand.
The Presidents of the vast Tract of Nile
Of Lybia, and the Mauritanian Soil.
All the Protectors of the Sun-burnt Moor
From the Red Sea , to Guinea 's Golden Shore.
And all th' Angelic Prefects who preside
O'er rich Europa, and her Realms divide.
Who the wide Scythian Continent direct,
And all the snowy Northern Isles protect.
While round the Throne these shining Orders wait
Their great Transactions humbly to relate.
Whelm'd over with unsufferable Light
With Wings display'd they screen their troubled Sight.
Hither a Thousand bright Expresses came
Envoys divine, and Couriers wing'd with Flame,
Return'd from distant Worlds to tell at large
Th' important Business which they had in Charge.

   Hither repair'd ambitious Lucifer ,
And in the bright Assembly did appear;
Distinguish'd by his Form so much decay'd,
And the deep Scars by vengeful Lightning made.
Like a torn Oak above the verdant Wood
Blasted from Heav'n the ruin'd Seraph stood;
Prepar'd the Just and Upright to arraign,
And his black Charge with Slanders to maintain.
When the blest Seraphs had Narration made
How their Instructions they had all obey'd,
What Revolutions they had caus'd below,
What Kingdoms guarded from th' unequal Foe.
What Monarchs Lust of Empire they restrain'd
What Kings advanc'd, what sinking States sustain'd.
What mighty Nations they had overthrown
By monstrous Crimes ripe for Destruction grown.
Then thus th' Allmighty from his lofty Throne
Which bright with uncreated Glory shone
To Satan spoke. Usurper of the Air
Whence dost thou come to these blest Seats, declare.

   Th' Apostate thus return'd. I dayly rowl
From farthest East to West, from Pole to Pole.
O'er Hills and Dales I pass, o'er Lands and Floods
O'er howling Desarts, Wilds, and spacious Woods.
I cross the raging Seas from Isle to Isle,
And fly from Realm to Realm with endless Toil,
To learn the State of Empires, and to know
What busy Mortals say and do below.
O'er the Terrestrial Regions thus I roam,
And now from wandring there, am hither come.

   Th' Eternal to th' Impostor thus reply'd:
In all thy tedious Journeys far and wide
Hast thou observ'd my Servant Arthur 's Ways,
That just and perfect Man who still obeys
With chearful Zeal and Pleasure my Command
And rules with equal Laws the British Land.
Whom I've anointed, Tyrants to destroy
And proud Oppressors who the World annoy.
To ease th' afflicted and relieve the poor
And banish'd Peace and Justice to restore.

   Then Lucifer reply'd:
'Tis true King Arthur in the Field succeeds,
And by his Arms atchieves Heroic Deeds.
His Zeal seems great to serve the Christian Cause,
And his vast Labors have procur'd Applause.
But do's the pious Monarch serve for nought,
And Vertue's Cause for Vertue's sake promote?
Is all this Zeal for pure Religion shown?
Do's he pursue Heav'n's Int'rest, or his own?
Do's not a steep insuperable Mound
Rais'd by thy Hand this Briton 's Throne surround?
Fenc'd thus about he do's the Foe despise,
Mocks all their Rage, and all their Power defys.
Do not Seraphic Squadrons aid his Arms,
And guard his Camp against the Foe's Alarms?
Do not the bright, divine Militia stand,
Immortal Sabres flaming in their Hand
Around this Fav'rite Monarch, to direct
His Conduct, and his Armys to protect?
Do's not the Angel of thy Presence lead
His Armys forth, and his Battalions head?
'Tis known he still attends him in the Field,
And do's his Head in the hot Battle shield.
He watches always with officious Care
To guard his Life from the sharp Edge of War.
He in the Front of Battle do's appear
And shakes against the Host his dreadful Spear.
He marches on before him to the Foe
Divides their Files, and lets this Favourite thro'.
No Wonder then he should such Laurels gain,
And ride so oft triumphant o'er the slain.
That vanquish'd Nations should receive his Yoke,
For those that him oppose, thy Wrath provoke.
In vain his Foes their hot Revenge pursue,
He must prevail, till Heav'n they first subdue.
Tho various Deaths in horrid Shapes convey'd
On every side th' encircled King invade,
Tho' Showers of Darts and glitt'ring Javelins fly,
Hissing, like deadly Adders thro' the Sky:
Tho' o'er the bloody Field Destruction reigns
And loads with ghastly Heaps the slipp'ry Plains,
Arthur encompass'd with Celestial Bands,
As if a God invulnerable stands.
Those Heav'n defends from Danger are secure,
And those it fights for, are of Triumph sure.
King Arthur 's Arms immortal Wreaths have won
By Power receiv'd from hence, and not his own.
Th' admiring World profusely praise bestow,
And worship Arthur as a God below.
In time they'll Altars to his Name erect,
And ask his Aid their Kingdoms to protect.
No wonder then the Briton do's pretend
Such Zeal for Heav'n, while Heav'n is such a Friend.
But let it now withdraw its aiding Hand,
And like impartial Judges neutral stand:
Or let some unexpected Suff'ring prove
His fam'd Integrity, and stedfast Love,
And thou shalt find he'll curse thee to thy Face,
And shew himself of Man's apostate Race.

   Then did th' Allmighty thus reply, to prove
King Arthur 's Patience, Fortitude and Love
To shew how much the mighty Man can bear,
And how unjust these Accusations are,
For twice seven Days thou mayst his Vertue try,
Use all thy Arts to prove his Constancy.
For that determin'd Space he's in thy Power,
His sacred Person only I secure.

   The Prince of Darkness felt an inward Joy
From Heav'n's Permission Arthur to annoy.
Down thro' th' aeirial Void he swiftly flew
His deep Revenge and Malice to pursue:
In mighty Wrath, knowing the time but short,
He came, to make his terrible Effort.
So when in ancient Rome a furious Beast
With Hunger pinch'd was from his Den releast
A constant Christian Martyr to devour
Condemn'd by some Imperial Monster's Power,
He roar'd and ran with open Jaws to tear
His Prey and pleas'd the bloody Theater.
Th' infernal Prince from Heav'n's Cerulean Top
Shot thro' the liquid Gulph, nor did he stop
Till he had reach'd the thick inferiour Air,
And saw beneath King Arthur 's Ships appear.
In th' Atmosphear with level Wings he hung,
And calld with such a thund'ring Voice, as rung
Thro' all the Skys, and with its dreadful Sound
Shook all the Rocks, and Shores, and Hills around.
His dusky Ministers who Storms prepare
And temper flaming Meteors in the Air,
Who dress the Magazins of Hail and Rain,
And whip wild Whirl winds round to vex the Main,
The Engineers that in the troubled Skys
Recruit exhausted Clouds with fresh Supplys,
These their great Leader's Summons did obey
And to receive his Orders hast away.
To whom thus Lucifer, see yonder see
Amidst the Waves Hell's greatest Enemy.
Aerial Powers make hast at my Command,
And beat th' Invader from the Gallic Land.
On his tall Ships a suddain Tempest pour
Sink him, or beat him to Pomona 's Shore.
Strait did the Fiends their Diligence employ
T' embroil the deep, and Arthur to destroy.
The Seeds of Tempests that imprison'd lay
In hollow Cliffs, and Caves remote from Day,
The lab'ring Demons did aloft convey.

   Now gathering Clouds the Day begins to drown,
Their threat'ning Fronts thro' all th' Horizon frown.
Their swagg'ring Wombs low in the Air depend
Which struggling Flames, and imbred Thunder rend
The strongest Winds their Breath and Vigor prove
And thro' the Heav'ns th' unweildy Tempest shove.
O'ercharg'd with Stores and Heav'ns Artillery
They groan and pant and labour up the Sky.
Impending Ruin do's the Sailor scare
Rolling and wallowing thro' th' encumber'd Air.
Loud Thunder, livid Flames, and Stygian Night
Compounded Horrors all the Deep affright,
Rent Clouds a medly of Destruction spout,
And throw their dreadful Entrails round about.
Tempests of Fire and Cataracts of Rain
Unnatural Friendship make t'afflict the Main.
Prest by incumbent Storms the Billows rise,
Climb o'er the Rocks, and foam amidst the Skys.
Then falling lower than before they rose
The secret Horrors of the Deep disclose.
Pursu'd by conquering Winds they fly and roar
And crowd and headlong run against the Shore.
This Orb's wide Frame with this Convulsion shakes,
Oft opens in the Storm, and often cracks.
Horror, Amazement and Despair appear
In all the hideous Forms that Mortals fear.
Driv'n by the furious Winds the Ships were tost
On the rough Waves, near wild Pomona 's Coast.
Here the Pightlandian Gulph's impetuous Tyde
Do's cold Jerne from the Isles divide;
A dreadful Sea, where adverse Currents meet
And beat their clashing Heads to Foam and Sleet.
The roaring Billows back and forward rowl,
And from the hollow Rocks Sea Monsters howl;
Monsters which from the North here rendezvous,
And on this Coast their hideous Dwelling chuse.
Th' amazing Noise and Uproar from afar
Alike the Shepherds and the Seamen feare.
Sailers that once should these dire Terrors hear,
Would Scylla mock, and by Charybdis steer
And only Pictland Gulph hereafter fear.
Here Remora 's, if Fame belief may gain
Ships under Sail with wondrous force detain,
That thus becalm'd ev'n in a Storm remain.

    Stronsa they past with such a furious Gale
As almost rent the Womb of every Sail.
They past the Land, where on the rocky Coast
Agricola his Roman Navy lost,
Misled by Pilots of Pomona 's Isle,
Who gave their Lives to save their Native Soil.
'Cause Rome ne'er thought in Northern Climes to find
A People brave, and of a Roman Mind,
Who could for Publick Good their own deny,
And for their Country, like her Decij, dy.
While Winds and Waves and Tempests waging War,
Vex'd all the Sea and troubled all the Air;
Indulgent Heav'n did the kind Aid afford
Which with their Prayers the Britons had implor'd.
A glorious Spirit from the Fields above
Descending with the swiftness of the Dove,
Approach'd King Arthur with Celestial grace,
And with Ambrosial Odour fill'd the Place.
Around his head a gentle Glory shone,
And thus the beamy Minister begun:

   The Powers of Hell their Angry Forces joyn
T' oppose your Arms, and thwart your high Design.
These did the Seas with this fierce Storm embroil,
To beat your Navy from Neustrasia 's Soil.
Your Arms, to try your Vertue, are delay'd,
So Heav'n permits, and Heav'n must be obey'd.
Know, by supream Command I now prepare
To chase the Demons that infest the Air,
Down to their Prisons, that the troubled Seas
May rest enjoy, and the fierce Tempest cease.
And when the Morn shall spread with dawning Day
Her Purple Loom, and shoot her early ray,
You'll Thule and th' Orcadian Isles descry
Which scatter'd o'er the Ocean's bosom ly.
Then steer directly to Pomona 's Shore,
Where you will Terrors meet unknown before.
Fear not this Isle and Dangers yet untry'd,
Heav'n you invoke, and Heav'n will be your guide.
Know, that the Prince of Hell has leave obtain'd
To prove your Constancy, and now unchain'd,
Th' Apostate with excessive Rage prepares
His fiery Tryals, and his various Snares.
That he in this great Combate may prevail,
He'll bring the Pious Arthur to Assail
Prodigious Monsters all of dreadful Shape,
From whom few Heros e'er did yet escape.
When you to Combate these shall take the Field,
Assume your Heav'nly Sword and Heav'nly Shield.
Your Helm unpierc'd shall fiery Darts arrest,
And your Celestial Plate protect your breast.
In these your Arms divinely wrought appear
And then no Monster, no Aggressor fear.
That with prodigious toil and sweat, for want
Of Food and Rest, you grow not weak and faint;
This Balm which Heav'nly Gardens yeild, receive,
Th' Ambrosial Odour will fresh Vigor give,
Your drooping Spirits cheer, and wasted Strength revive.
But when your Arms Hell's Terrors have repell'd
And with immortal praise fierce Monsters quell'd:
Your Chiefest Danger still remains behind,
From a fair Foe, who Murders while she's kind.
A fatal Foe, Fascinia is her name,
Whose Triumphs Vanquish'd Kings and Chiefs proclaim.
You may not stay and Gaze, but straitway fly
The Sight of this perfidious Enemy.
No Mortal Courage can abide the Fight,
You Conquer when you're brave and bold in Flight.
All who contend fall by Fascinia 's Charms,
'Tis Fear must here protect you, not your Arms.
Your diffidence the surest guard will yield
The Wise who run will only Win the Field.

   He said, and strait the Seraph disappear'd
King Arthur with his Looks and Language cheer'd,
Waiting th' appearance of approaching Day
Resolv'd the Heav'nly Vision to obey.
Th' Aerial Demons from the Seraph fly
Born off on rapid Whirlwinds from the Sky.
The Winds no more insult the flying Waves,
But for repose retreat to Neighb'ring Caves.
The Sea subsides, and on its peaceful breast
Billows diffus'd dispose themselves to rest.

   Now did the beauteous Morn serenely rise
And open'd with her Smiles the Eastern Skys.
The perfect Day ensu'd, when midst the Seas
They had in view the clust'ring Orcades .
Direct to make Pomona 's Isle they steer'd,
Which near and easy of access appear'd.
Soon did the Britons see a peaceful Bay
To guard their Ships her spacious Arms display.
Where weary Billows did securely sleep
Withdrawn to shun the Tumults of the Deep.
Within the winding Shores they safely past
Took in their Sails, and all their Anchors cast.
A Chosen Band of Britons went on Shore
Who might Refreshments and Sufficient Store
Of fresh Provisions for the Navy gain,
Worn with their mighty suff'rings on the Main.
Where many Nights and Days they had been lost
Before the Men descry'd Pomona 's Coast.
Arthur in Person did the Men Command,
Who from their Vessels leap'd out on the Strand,
And boldly thence march'd up to view the Land.
When in the neighb'ring Mountains did appear.
Wild Swine and Goats and Herds of Fallow Deer.
Their fatal Arms did the wild Game pursue,
And soon abundant Store there Weapons slew.
Then laden with their Spoil they turn'd their feet
And came rejoycing to th' expecting Fleet.
In foaming Caldrons some fat Venson boil'd,
They Roasted some, and some on Coals they broil'd.
Spread on the Shore they did themselves refresh,
And prais'd the Swine and Deer's delicious Flesh.
When they had eat and drank with toil opprest
The Men dispos'd their weary Limbs to rest.

   Soon as the tender Morn began to dawn,
King Arthur for Devotion was withdrawn.
While he his humble Prayers was offering up
To Heav'n upon a Neighb'ring Mountain's top,
The Prince of Darkness caught him up on high,
And bore th' undaunted Hero thro' the Sky,
But near a Mountain in a lonesom wast,
Swiftly alighting, he the Briton plac't.
A mighty Dragon came down from the Hill
Whose hideous Crys did all the Valley fill.
The monstrous Beast was of prodigious size,
Smoak from his Nostrils broke, Fire from his Eyes.
His odious Feet resembled Harpys Claws,
And the fierce Crocadile 's his bloody Jaws.
Which when expanded did three murth'ring Rows
Of Teeth his native Armory disclose.
His Wings spread out o'ershadow'd all the Air,
Wide as the broadest Sails in Ships of War.
Hard scaly Armour to his Body grew
For Ornament and for Protection too.
Along he drew his mighty poisonous train
Like crooked Rivers sliding thro' a plain.
As on the ground the turgid Volumes rol'd,
They all their Speckled Terrors did unfold.
On did the vast, voracious Monster come
With dreadful noise, denouncing Arthur 's Doom.
Sometimes like heavy Bustards rais'd with pain
He flew, and sometimes ran upon the Plain.
Sometimes employing Feet and Pinions too,
The Dragon both together ran and flew.
The Beast with horrid noise advancing near,
Th' undaunted Briton pois'd his massy Spear
Which strait projected with prodigious Might,
From his strong Arm took his auspicious Flight.
Dragon and Spear against each other hist,
Nor could the Beast this stress of Death resist.
For while he yawn'd and belch'd out dreadful Flames
Amidst the Air in long impetuous Streams,
Down his wide throat the Spear its passage made
And buried deep within his Stomach staid.
Down fell the wounded Beast with mighty sound,
Shook all the Plain, the Woods, and Hills around,
And beat his quivering Wings upon the ground.
A Sea of loathsome Gore resembling Blood,
Sprung from his Throat, and o'er the Region flow'd.

   Then did the raging Prince of Darkness bear
Aloft the Conquering Briton thro' the Air.
But set him down amidst a shady Wood,
Which in a wild, amazing Desart stood.
Where only ancient Pines, and baleful Yew,
Unwholsome Box, and mournful Cypress grew.
The noxious Glebe did nothing else produce
But poisonous Flowers, and Herbs of Magic use.
Bald Toadstools, Henbane, Nightshade, Hemlock here,
Abundant choice of Mischief, did appear.
The Birds obscene which love the Shades of Night
Frightful to hear, and odious to the Sight,
Owls, Ravens, Bats, and all th' ill-boding Race
Increast the Horrors of the dismal place.
So black the Shade, so thick the stagnant Air,
That no reviving Sunbeams enter'd there.
Nothing but here and there a straggling Ray
Which lost it self in wandring from the Day.
Which serv'd not to Refresh, but to affright,
Not to Dispel, but to Disclose the Night.
Within the midst an antient Castle stood,
Encompass'd with a Mote of reeking Blood.
Wherein a dreadful Monster did reside,
Who all th' attempts of humane Force defy'd:
A Cruel Tyrant, of Infernal Shape,
Whom none, who Fear her fury, can escape.
Vipers, like those in Stygian Caverns found,
Swoln with black Gore, her meagre Temples crown'd.
Her ghastly Eyes were sunk within her head,
And Death-like Paleness did her Cheeks o'erspred.
Her long, lank Breasts she o'er her Shoulders flung,
Or to her Wast the loathsom Burden hung.
Her shapeless Form no Words have force to tell,
Black as the Night, and Horrible as Hell.
The Monsters which Sicilia 's Seas defame
If this appear'd, would gentle seem and tame.
She brandish'd in her hand a poison'd Dart,
Which Strikes desponding Mortals to the Heart.
Fast in the festring wound the Weapon rests,
And tears with pain their miserable Breasts.
For death in vain the tortur'd Wretches cry,
Still do they Live, but still they Live to Dy.
None but the Brave conscious of Vertuous Deeds;
Whose Courage from their Innocence proceeds,
Are able to withstand her dreadful Power,
The rest the Monster do's with Ease devour.

   No sooner in th' enchanted Wood appear'd
Britannia 's Pious King, but straight he heard
The saddest Accents, deep despairing Sighs,
Bitter Complaints, and loud amazing Crys,
Promiscuous Howlings, lamentable Moans,
Outrageous Sorrow, and redoubled Groans.
Clashing of Whips, hissings of mighty Snakes,
Clancking of Chains, and noise of tort'ring Racks.
Yellings of raging Furys, and the cry
Of Men in dreadful Torments rend the Sky.
Then thro' the Air Flashes of Light'ning past,
And flaming Firebrands at his head were cast.
Dragons of Fire flew swiftly thro' the Air,
And ruddy Meteors shook their blazing Hair.
Then murd'ring Ruffians leap'd out from the Wood,
And grasping bloody Daggers threat'ning stood.
Hell-hounds of hideous Forms, and dreadful Claws
Ran roaring on him with their open Jaws.
Pale shiv'ring Ghosts past groaning by, a sight
Which humane Nature cannot but affright.
These various Horrors did he see and hear
Yet stood unmov'd, and ignorant of Fear.

   The Prince of Darkness all enrag'd to see
The pious King's unshaken Constancy.
To see him midst such Terrors fearless stand,
Grasping his Heavenly Buckler in his Hand;
Wherewith the Hero did with Ease repel
The Rage of all th' united Powers of Hell;
Invited dire Anelpis to his Aid,
Of whom both Men and Angels are afraid.
Aloud th' Apostate call'd, and at his Cry
The Castle's Brazen Gates did open fly.
The Draw-bridge all with Plates of Iron wrought
Fell down, and lay across the Bloody Moat.
When from the Castle Gates a hideous Rout
With mighty Noise and Outcrys issued out.
The Marks and all the ghastly Shapes of Fear
In their distracted Faces did appear.
Consummate Horror all their Looks possest,
And Consternation not to be exprest.
They beat their Breast, and tortur'd with Despair
Tore from their Heads their stiff erected Hair.
Torrents of Tears they pour'd out from their Eyes,
And fill'd the ecchoing Wood with dismal Crys.
Then next the Hellish Fury came in Sight,
And call'd forth all her Terrors to affright.
She shook her Vipers, and aloud she roar'd
Than Death more cruel, and as Hell abhorr'd.
With horrid Port the meagre Monster strode,
Poising her poison'd Dart all stain'd with Blood.
Up to the King she march'd with furious Hast,
And at his Breast her dreadful Dart she cast.
Off from his temper'd Shield the Weapon glanc'd,
The King with God-like Courage strait advanc'd,
And brandishing his Fauchion in the Air
T' attack the grisly Fury did prepare.
Who straitway fled with all her odious Train,
And in a Moment did her Castle gain.
For she the timorous only can devour
But flys the brave who dare resist her Power.

   With Spite and Rage th' Infernal Monarch swell'd
When he the Britons glorious Deed beheld.
Then thus he to himself. Still my Design
My Vengeance still this Briton do's decline,
He all my chosen Ministers defeats,
And even Anelpis from his Arms retreats.
Yet still I'll try, unwearied I'll pursue,
I will molest him if I can't subdue.
This mighty Favourite of Heav'n shall find
That I have Snares and Dangers yet behind,
Milder in show, but of more fatal Kind.
I'll change my Arms and Method of Attack,
Conquer by Wiles whom Danger cannot shake.

   In the South Corner of Pomona 's Isle
Blest with a temperate Air and fertile Soil.
On the sweet Margin of a Crystal Flood,
Within a flowry Vale a Palace stood,
Adorn'd with Turrets of Stupendious height,
With Walks and Gardens ravishing to Sight.
Here did Fascinia with her wanton train
In unmolested Peace and Pleasure reign.
Her Form was lovely, and amazing fair
Her Looks so sweet, so tender was her Air,
That such soft charms, such an alluring grace
Besides her own adorn'd no Mortal Face.
A thousand Graces, and a thousand Joys
Smil'd in her Cheeks and danc'd within her Eyes.
Where sate Victorious Love with Triumph crown'd,
His Conquering Arms and Trophys spread around.
From these bright Magazins to Vanquish Hearts
He drew his keenest flames, and all his surest Darts.
Great Heros who Immortal Fame pursu'd,
Citys reduc'd, and mighty Kings subdu'd,
Have at this Conqueror's Feet laid down their Arms,
Pleas'd to be vanquish'd by her gentle Charms.
The Lilly, Jesmine, Violet and Rose
Mingling their various Beautys did compose
The Flowry Garland which encompass'd round
Her softer Hair, and fairer Temples crown'd.
Her Amber Locks loose on her Shoulders lay,
Whither lascivious Zephyrs came to play.
With sporting Wings they rais'd them up, then all
Flew off, aud let their Golden Burden fall.
Her Silken Garments which with careless grace
Her beauteous Limbs and Body did embrace,
Did thro' the Air a rich Perfume diffuse,
Such as Arabia 's balmy Woods produce.
And yet beneath the specious, fair disguise
Of tender Words, and soft enticing Eyes,
The treach'rous Sorceress within her Mind
Conceal'd the deepest Hate to Humane Kind.

   She all the Herbs and potent Juices knew
Which on Pomona 's Hills in Plenty grew;
These with infernal Art she could dispence
And Mixtures Form of wondrous Influence.
These Magic Draughts the fair Enchantress gave
To all whom first her Beauty did enslave.
Various the skillful Dispensations were,
Which she for various Uses did prepare.
As soon as some had drank th' infectious Bowl,
They Wolves became, and strait began to howl.
Some did the Form of wanton Goats acquire,
Some Swine became, and straitway sought the Mire.
Some with the Herds did thro' the Forrests pass,
And like Assyria 's Monarch fed on Grass.
Some as from Humane Shape they did decline,
Up to the Wast were Goats, and after Swine.
Some half transform'd compos'd a monstrous Herd,
Where one half Man, and one half Beast appear'd.
Many Fascinia with amazing Art
Changing their Sex to Women did convert.
The Sorc'ress these anointed with an Oyl
Of wondrous Force brought from Campania 's Soil:
Then by her Servants they were all convey'd
To a warm Bath with strong Decoctions made
Of Porna which without the Gard'ners Toil
A Native grew thro' all Pomona 's Isle.
When she had bath'd them for a certain Space,
She then remov'd the Captives from the Place
And laid them softly on a downy Bed,
With Lillys, Poppys, and fresh Roses spread.
Then while she touch'd her Lute's enchanting String
And with a charming Voice began to sing,
Sweet Slumber strait their Eyelids gently prest,
And on their Bed they lay dissolv'd in Rest.
Mean time their Transformation did ensue,
Their vig'rous Bodys smooth and slender grew;
Their Limbs their Force did by degrees abate,
And by degrees turn'd fair and delicate.
Their Nerves grew slack, their Skin, as Lillys, white,
Soft to the Touch, and easy to the Sight.
From their fair Chins dropt off their Manly Beard,
And on their smiling Lips a lovely Red appear'd.
For mild and tender Looks, their changing Face,
Put off its bold, its stern and martial Grace.
Their Shape all o'er discover'd Female Charms,
And all the Distaff sought, instead of Arms.
These in Fascinia 's Court did still remain,
And furnish'd out her soft lascivious Train.
Monarchs and warlike Chiefs who hither came
Drawn by her charming Beauty, and her Fame
In mighty Numbers did her Palace fill,
Their Sex first chang'd by her prodigious Skill.

   Straitway the Prince of Hell on Wings display'd,
To this sweet Seat the British King convey'd.
And set him down amidst the balmy Bowers
With od'rous Herbs adorn'd, and fresh blown Flowers.
Wherein appear'd on Iv'ry Tables set
Rich garnish'd Dishes of delicious Meat.
Choice Fruits in great Profusion lay around,
And with their Golden Heaps the Tables crown'd.
Plenty of Wine was plac'd; no nobler Juice
Ausonia 's Hills or fertile Greece produce.
Music exceeding that of tuneful Sphears
With soft harmonious Airs engag'd his Ears.
Hither Fascinia with her Train to eat
Now from her gilded Palace did retreat.
Her, Lucifer had form'd and taught with Care
How best the British Monarch to ensnare.
Telling that this would raise her Glory more
Than all the Triumphs she had won before.
Soon as she saw the Hero stand in Arms
She smil'd, and call'd forth all her conq'ring Charms.
Advancing near, the lovely Sorceress
Did these soft Words to Britain 's King address.

   Tho you great Monarch are a Stranger here
Your Fame is not, your Person's therefore dear.
Faint with your Toil with Victorys opprest,
Accept reviving Meats, and Wine and Rest.
Make hast, and your exhausted Strength recruit,
Conquest you've gain'd, and now enjoy the Fruit.
Without Refreshment, and a due Repair
Your mighty Limbs will fail, your Vigor wear.
Your martial Genius for a time unbend,
Some easy Hours in soft Enjoyment spend.
Dangers you've born now tast these peaceful Joys,
Divert your self with Pleasure's charming Voice.
In this Retirement while you please to stay,
All my Attendants shall your Will obey,
And I my self will own your soveraign Sway.
Here we'll advance the Name of Albion 's King,
And in soft Peace your Wars and Triumphs sing.
Then you again shall Martial Fame pursue,
And in the warlike Field your mighty Deeds renew.

   She ceas'd. And from her fair enchanting Eyes
Shot Showers of Conqu'ring Darts to gain the Prize.
The British Monarch view'd her beauteous Face
Her tender Shape, soft Air, and every Grace.
Speechless the Hero and astonish'd stood,
And found an unknown Temper in his Blood.
A painful Pleasure seiz'd his beating Heart,
And in his Breast he felt and lov'd the Smart.
The wand'ring Flame creeps thro' his wounded Veins,
And all the Springs of Life the soft Contagion gains.
He ne'er before met such a potent Foe,
Nor did he e'er such Danger undergo.
At last the Briton fir'd with Love, reply'd,
Amidst such Charms who would not still abide?
Happy the Kings, happy the Conquerours are
Who after all their Warlike Toil can share
The Smiles of one who's so divinely Fair.
Then to the Bower she led him by the hand,
And strait to fill out Wine she gave Command.
She drank the Wine off, and of Conquest sure
Bid them a second Bowl for Arthur pour.
But when the Briton took the fatal drink
And stood upon the Precipice's brink,
At last he recollected in his Mind,
How strictly he had been from Heav'n Enjoyn'd
In fair Fascinia 's Presence not to stay,
But from her fatal Arms to break away.
In hast the Monarch rose, resolv'd to fly
Th' Enchanted Place, the Lovely Enemy
Perceiving Arthur 's great and brave intent
Fell on her Knees his Purpose to prevent.
She with her Arms his Martial Legs embrac'd,
And in the snowy Fetters held him fast.
With Tears and Prayers and every moving Art,
She labour'd to confirm his wav'ring Heart.
The Pious Monarch undetermin'd stood,
And felt Alternate tydes Command his blood.
He would not Heav'n's high order disobey,
Nor had the Power or Will to break away.
Thus he a while maintain'd a doubtful Field,
And tho' he did not Conquer, did not yield.

   Mean time great Gabriel watchful of his Care,
To give him Aid to break the fatal Snare,
Cloath' d in white Air appear'd, and with a Cry
Which shew'd the Monarch's Danger bid him fly.
If thou he said wilt Life and Honour save,
If thou wouldst prove above all others brave,
No longer with this fair Enchantress stay
Come on, and follow where I lead the Way.
The Briton rous'd with this divine Alarm
Felt now a nobler Flame his Bosom warm.
Upon the Ground the fatal Bowl he threw,
And from the fair Fascinia 's Presence flew,
Who with her earnest Crys did long pursue.
The Gates flew open with obsequious Hast,
Thro' which the Seraph and King Arthur past.
Now in th' Aerial Realms had Light and Shade
Twice seven alternate Revolutions made;
When Lucifer 's Commission was expir'd,
Who from the Briton all enrag'd retir'd.
Him his great Guardian Gabriel did convey
Down to the Coasts where then the Britons lay.

    Gravellan, faithful Lucius, and the rest
For their great Leader's Absence sore distrest,
From Place to Place, with Care and anxious Thought
In vain their Prince thro' all Pomona sought,
They rang'd o'er Hill and Dale, and all around
The Woods and Caves did with their Crys resound.
At last o'erwhelm'd with Sorrow and Despair
They to the Coast from whence they came repair;
There to debate what Measures they should take,
If they should cease, or fresh Enquiry make.
Mean time the King amidst his Friends arriv'd,
Whose Presence their desponding Minds reviv'd.
With Wonder they beheld the Hero's Face,
And did with Tears of Joy his Feet embrace.
But when th' excessive Passion did abate,
The King at large did to his Friends relate,
What Dangers in his Absence him befel,
And how by Aids divine he did repel,
All the confed'rate Force and Frauds of Hell.

   The mighty Triumphs by the Hero gain'd
His Patience, and the Labors he sustain'd
In various Combates, all his Friends amaz'd,
Who fixt with Admiration on him gaz'd.
With Joy transported all congratulate
His mighty Conquests and his prosp'rous Fate.
Some did to Heav'n his wondrous Patience raise,
Some did his Courage, some his Goodness praise.
And all the Soveraign of the World ador'd,
Who to the Britons had their Prince restor'd.
Whose powerful Hand assisted his Escape,
From Dangers of such Formidable Shape.
Then Meat and Wine they did prepare in hast,
Which now the Britons could with Pleasure tast.
Refresh'd with Food the pious King arose
And went his weary Members to repose.
But first declar'd that when the dawning Day,
From the cold Air should chase the Shades away,
He would embark to make Neustrasia 's Coast,
To lead against the Franks the British Host.

Go to "King Arthur" Part II

Next: King Arthur: Part II, by Richard Blackmore [1697]