Whose bodies lie extended on our fields,
Stood at this hour a threat'ning host against you.
Come, then, ye warriors, follow your conductress,
And drag these slaves to death.
Dum. They will not move,
Fix'd with amazement at thy matchless frenzy.
Do thou revere these warriors, who with scorn
Observe thy folly.
Ven. Husband, sister, hear!
Oh, if my humbled voice, my prostrate limbs,
If tears and sighs of anguish, may atone
For this pernicious discord I have rais’d
Boad. [To Ven.] Hence with thy despicable sighs
[To Dum. And thou, presumptuous, what invidious power, Foe to thy safety, animates thy pride Still to contend with Boadicea's wrath ?
Dum. No, by Andate, I contend not with thee.
At this important season, when the soldier
Thirsts for the conflict, it would ill become me
To trifle here in discord with a woman.
Nay, do not swell that haughty breast in vain:
When once the sacred evidence of justice
Illuminates my bosom, on a rock,
Which neither tears can soften, nor the gusts
Of passion move, my resolution stands.
Boad. Now Heav'n fulfil my curses on thy head!
May ev'ry purpose of thy soul be frustrate,
May infamy and ruin overtake thee,
May base captivity and chains o'erwhelm thee,
May shameful crimson from thy shoulders start,
Like mine, dishonour'd with a servile scourge!
With pain all shiv'ring, and thy flesh contracting,
Low may'st thou crouch beneath th' expected stroke,
Ev'n from the hands thou sav'st!
Tenan. Alas, great Princess !
Divert this wrath against th' impending foe,
Whose formidable ranks will soon descend
Boad. [To the Britons.] Ungrateful and perfidious!
Now would I draw my spirit from your camp,
Leave you with him defenceless and expos'd;
Then should your shatter'd chariots be o'erthrown,
Your jav❜lins broken, and in hasty flight
Far from your trembling hands the buckler cast,
Did not th' insatiate thirst which burns my soul
To empty ev'ry vein of Roman blood
Protect you, traitors, from my indignation.
But, by th' ensanguin'd altars of Andate,
Thou, Dumnorix, be sure, shalt rue this day;
For thou henceforward, art to me a Roman.
Ven. Oh, Dumnorix!
Dum. Let not this frantic woman
Grieve thy mild nature-Romans, cease to fear.
These are my tents; retire in safety thither.
[Exeunt Flam. and Ænob.
Do thou go forth this instant and command
Each ardent youth to gird his falchion round him, His pond'rous spear to loosen from the turf,
And brace the target firmly on his arm.
His car let ev'ry charioteer prepare,
His warlike seat each combatant assume,
That ev'ry banner may in battle wave,
Ere the sun reaches his meridian height. [Ex. Tenan.
Ven. My lord and husband !
Dum. Wherefore dost thou hold me,
And in my passage thy endearments plant?
I must prepare this moment to confront
The foul and ghastly face of cruel war:
And, by the gods, I rather court at present
That shape of horror, than thy beauteous form.
Then go, thou dear intruder, and remove
Thy softness from me.
Ven. I will stay no longer
Than brave Tenantius hath perform'd thy orders.
Long have I known thy valour skill'd to throw
The rapid dart, and lift th' unconquer'd shield.
A confidence, like this, hath still diffus'd
Enough of firmness through my woman's heart,
Ne'er to molest thee with a woman's fears,
This day excepted; now my weakness governs,
And terror, too importunate, will speak.
Hast thou encounter'd yet such mighty powers
As down that mountain suddenly will rush?
From ev'ry part the Romans are assembled,
All vers'd in arms, and terrible in valour.
Dum. Tell me, thou lovely coward, am not I
As terrible; or falls the Roman sword
On the tough buckler, and the crested helm,
May shameful crimson from thy shoulders start,
Like mine, dishonour'd with a servile scourge!
With pain all shiv'ring, and thy flesh contracting,
Low may'st thou crouch beneath th' expected stroke,
Ev'n from the hands thou sav'st!
Tenan. Alas, great Princess!
Divert this wrath against th' impending foe,
Whose formidable ranks will soon descend
Boad. [To the Britons.] Ungrateful and perfidious!
Now would I draw my spirit from your camp,
Leave you with him defenceless and expos'd;
Then should your shatter'd chariots be o'erthrown,
Your jav❜lins broken, and in hasty flight
Far from your trembling hands the buckler cast,
Did not th' insatiate thirst which burns my soul
To empty ev'ry vein of Roman blood
Protect you, traitors, from my indignation.
But, by th' ensanguin'd altars of Andate,
Thou, Dumnorix, be sure, shalt rue this day;
For thou henceforward, art to me a Roman.
Ven. Oh, Dumnorix !
Dum. Let not this frantic woman
Grieve thy mild nature-Romans, cease to fear.
These are my tents; retire in safety thither.
[Exeunt Flam. and Ænob.
Do thou go forth this instant and command
Each ardent youth to gird his falchion round him, His pond'rous spear to loosen from the turf,
And brace the target firmly on his arm.
His car let ev'ry charioteer prepare,
His warlike seat each combatant assume,
That ev'ry banner may in battle wave,
Ere the sun reaches his meridian height. [Ex. Tenan. Ven. My lord and husband!
Dum. Wherefore dost thou hold me,
And in my passage thy endearments plant ?
I must prepare this moment to confront
The foul and ghastly face of cruel war:
And, by the gods, I rather court at present
That shape of horror, than thy beauteous form.
Then go, thou dear intruder, and remove
Thy softness from me.
Ven. I will stay no longer
Than brave Tenantius hath perform'd thy orders.
Long have I known thy valour skill'd to throw
The rapid dart, and lift th' unconquer'd shield.
A confidence, like this, hath still diffus'd
Enough of firmness through my woman's heart,
Ne'er to molest thee with a woman's fears,
This day excepted; now my weakness governs,
And terror, too importunate, will speak.
Hast thou encounter'd yet such mighty powers
As down that mountain suddenly will rush?
From ev'ry part the Romans are assembled,
All vers'd in arms, and terrible in valour.
Dum. Tell me, thou lovely coward, am not I
As terrible; or falls the Roman sword
On the tough buckler, and the crested helm,
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