Enter EBRANCUS, TENANTIUS, and Trinoban

tians.

Dum. Well, my brave friends, what tidings?
Ebran. Through thy quarter,

With weary steps, and mourning, have we tra versed

A silent desert of unpeopled tents,
Quite to the distant station of the Icenians.
Their chiefs we found in council round the
queen;

The multitude was arming; twenty thousand
Were yet remaining, and unhurt by war,
Unlike our Trinobantians, who, unaided,
The fatal onset bore. Those huge battalions,
Which Rome so dreaded, are, alas! no more.
Dum. Be not dejected. Far the greater part
Are fled for shelter to their native roofs,
And will rejoin us, when with force repaired
We may dispute our island still with Rome.
But have you gained access to Boadicea?
Ebran. We have.

Tenan. Yes; where those gushing waters
leave the grove,

To seek the valley deeper in the shade,
From the same fountain flows a smaller brook,
Whose secret channel through the thicket winds,
And will conduct me farther down the vale--
Dum. Which once attained, proceed and gain
my dwelling.

Give me thy honest hand. Come nearer, soldier,
Thy faithful bosom would I clasp to mine-
Perhaps thy general and thou may never
Embrace again.

Tenan. What means my fearless chief? Why hast thou called this unaccustomed mois

ture

Into thy soldier's cyes?

Dum. Thou dost not weep,

My gallant veteran! I have been to blame.
A tenderness, resulting from a care,

Which struggles here, subdued me for a mo

ment.

This shall be soon discharged, and all be well.
I have two boys: if, after all my efforts,
(I speak, not prompted by despair, but caution)
Rome should prevail against me, and our hopes
Abortive fall, take thou these helpless infants;
With thee transport them to our northern fron
tiers,

And hide them deep in Caledonian woods.
There, in their growing years, excite and cherisha
The dear remembrance of their native fields;
That, to redeem them from the Italian spoiler,
If e'er some kind occasion should invite,
Forth from their covert they may spring un-

daunted.

Ne'er let the race of Dumnorix divert
One thought from Albion to their own reposc.
Remind them often of their father's toils,
Whom thou leav'st grappling to the last with
fortune.

And if beneath this island's mouldering state,
I, to avoid disgraceful chains, must sink,
Fain would my spirit in the hope depart,
That on the ruins, which surround my fall,
A new-born structure may hereafter stand,
Raised by my virtue, living in my sons, [Exeunt,

Dum. So did I,

As near the opening pass I stood, to watch Our messenger's return.

Enter EBRANCUS.

What means this haste? Why lookst thou pale?

Ebran. With thy instructions charged, I sought the Icenian quarter. All around Was solitude and silence. When I called, No voice replied. To Boadicea's tent With fearful haste I trod. Her daughters there I found in consternation. I enquired The cause they answered only with their tears; Till from the princess Emmeline at last I learned, that all the Icenians were that hour In silent march departed; but their course She could not tell me: that her furious mother Had, with a fell, determined look, enjoined them To wait her pleasure, which should soon be known;

Mean time to rest immoveable and mute.

Enter an Icenian, carrying a bowl.
Ven. My Dumnorix, defend me!
Dum. Ha! what means

This wild demeanour-wilt thou speak, Icenian?
Fear not, my love; thy Dumnorix is near.
What is that bowl, thou carriest?

Icen. Honoured chief,

If aught appears disordered in my gesture,
Which ill becomes the reverence I owe thee,
Charge that demerit to my horrid errand,
And not to me.

Ven What will befall us now!

Dum. [To the Icenean.] Wilt thou begin?
Icen. I come from Boadicea.

Dum. Where is she?

Icen. Far advanced o'er yonder vale.
Dum. With what intention?
Icen. To assail the Romans.
Dum. Assail the Romans!
Icen. To surprise their camp,

At this dead hour, with unexpected slaughter.
Before she marched, to me this secret charge,
In words like these she gave. Observe our

course;

"When I have passed the camp's extremest verge, Back to my daughters and Venusia speed: "Tell them, I go our fortune to restore, "If unsuccessful, never to return.

Should that stern doom attend me, bid them take

The last, best gift, which dying I can leave them;

"That of my blood no part may prove dishonoured.

"The Trinobantian, of his Roman friends 'So well deserving, may accept their grace.' This said, with wild emotion in her breast, Her visage blackening with despair and horror, She straight committed to my trembling hands Two fatal bowls, which flow with poisoned

streams:

I have accomplished half my horrid task
With Boadicea's daughters.

Dum. Frantic woman!

Who hopes with fury and despair to match
The vigilance and conduct of Suetonius.

Icen. From this ill-fated hand receive the draught,

Whose hue and odour warrant it the juice
Of that benumbing plant, the Druids gather;
That plant, whose drowsy moisture lulls the

sense,

And, with a silent influence, expels
The unresisting spirit from her seat.

Dum. Mistaken woman! did she deem Venusia

Was unprovided of this friendly potion——
Perform thy orders; bear it to my tent.
Thou may'st not want it yet-take comfort,
love.

Enter a second Icenian.

2d Icen. Oh! Dumnorix ! Dum. Icenian, spare thy voice.

Thy flight, thy terror, and thy wounds interpret Too plainly.

2d Icen. We are vanquished.

Dum. I believe thee.

2d Icen. Oh! I have much to tell thee-but I faint.

Dum. [To EBRANCUS.] Conduct him hence, and learn the whole event.

[Exit Icenian, with EBRANCUS. Ven. On you, celestial arbiters, we call. Now as we stand environed by distress, Now weigh our actions past, deformed, or fair. If e'er oppression hath defiled his valour, In help and pity to the woes of others, Our hearts been scanty, and our hands reserved, Let our transgressions ratify our doom: Else with your justice let our merits plead To hold its shield before us, and repel These undeserved misfortunes!

Dum. Heaven may hear,

And through that forest lead us still to safety.
Ha! no; each power against us is combined;
What but their anger, levelled at our heads,
Could bring Tenantius back, so strictly charged
To seek our home-the intercepting foes
Have seized the secret pass.

Ven. Whose guardian care
Now to the gloomy shelter of a desert,
To solitary innocence and peace,
Will guide our friendless orphans?

Dum. True, Venusia.

Through every trial Heaven is pleased to lead us,
Droop not-one comfort never can forsake us.
The mind, to virtue trained, in every state,
Rejoicing, grieving, dying, must possess
The exalted pleasure to exert that virtue.
Enter TENANTIUS.

Ven. Speak, speak, Tenantius!

Tenan. We pursued our course,
But had not travelled far, before we heard

Dum. We have been long companions, brave
Tenantius,

Thy leader I, once fortunate and great,
And thou my faithful and intrepid soldier.
Nay, do not weep; we have not time for wailing.
By thy approved fidelity and love,
Thy chief, just entering death's unfolded gates,
Stops, and once more conjures thee to retain
This his last charge in memory-his children.
[Exit TENANTIUS.
The sun is risen. All hail! thou last of days
To this nigh-finished being. Radiant power!
Thou through thy endless journey mayst prc-
claim,

That Dumnorix died free, for thou shalt view it.
Behold! the appointed signal from the grove,
Just as Flaminius warned us, is upreared,
To call Suetonius and his legions on.
Come Desolation, Tyranny, resort
To thy new seat; come Slavery, and bend
The neck of Albion, all her sons debase,
And ancient virtue from their hearts expel!

Now, then, ye honoured mansions of our fathers,
Ye hallowed altars, and ye awful groves,
The habitation of our gods, farewell!
And yet the guilty authoress of these woes
Deserves a share of praise, who, still retaining
One unextinguished spark of generous honour,
Scorned to remain spectatress or partaker
Of Albion's fall, and, dying, still is free.
Need I say more, Venusia?
This last embrace. And now prepare,
Ven. Oh, my lord!

Dum. Why heaves that sigh?
Ven. Alas, I am a woman!

Venusia

Dum. True, a defenceless woman, and ex. posed

To keener sorrow by thy matchless beauty; That charm, which captivates the victor's eye, Yet, helpless to withstand his savage force, Throws wretched woman under double ruin. But wherefore this? Thy virtue knows its duty. Ven. Stay but a little!

Dum. Would I might for years! But die that thought-False tenderness away! Thou British genius, who art now retiring From this lost region, yet suspend thy flight, And in this conflict lend me all thy spiritWe only ask thee to be free and die. Well, my Venusia, is thy soul resolved, Or shall I still afford a longer pause? Ven. Though my weak sex by nature is not armed

Aside

With fortitude like thine, of this be sure, That dear subjection to thy honoured will, Which hath my life directed, even in death Shall not forsake me; and thy faithful wife Shall with obedience meet thy last commands. But canst thou tell me-Is it hard to die?

Dum. Oh! rather ask me, if to live in shame,
Captivity and sorrow, be not hard?
Ven. Oh, miserable!

Dum. In a foreign land
The painful toils of servitude to bear
From an imperious mistress?

Ven. Dreadful thought!

Dum. Or be insulted with the hateful love Of some proud master? Ven. Oh proceed

No further!"

Dum. From thy native seat of dwelling, From all the known endearments of thy home, From parents, children, friends, and-husband

torn!

Ven. Stop there, and reach the potion; nor
to drink

The cure of troubles will I longer pause.
Erit DUMNOBIX
For every past possession of delight,
Both in my offspring and their godlike sire,
A dying matron bends her grateful knee,
Ye all-disposing powers! as now these blessings
Must reach their period, to my sons transfer
That copious goodness, I have shared so long!
Through my resigning soul that promise breathe,

And my last moments comfort thus with peace!

Re-enter DUMNORIX with a bowl.

Dum. [Aside, seeing VENUSIA on her knees.] Hold, resolution; now be doubly armed.

[He gives her the bowl, and she drinks. 2 Now stand awhile before the fanning breeze; So, with its subtile energy, the potion, Less rudely stealing on the powers of life, Will best perform its office, to remove

Pain, fear, and grief, for ever from thy breast.
Dost thou not feel already every terror
Begin to lessen? that a calm succeeds
Within thy bosom, banishing the sense
Of present pain, and fear of future woes?
How dost thou fare, Venusia ?
Ven. I perceive

No alteration; every sense remains

Yet unimpaired. Then, while these moments last,
Let me on thee direct my eyes to gaze,
While unobstructed still their sight endures;
Let me receive thee to my faithful bosom,
Before my heart is motionless and cold.
=Speak to me, Dumnorix, my lord, my husband!
Give one kind accent to thy dying wife,
Ere yet my ears be frozen, and thy voice
Be heard no longer; join thy lip to mine,
While I can feel thy last and tenderest kisses.
Dum. Yes, I will utter to thy dying ear
All my fond heart, sustain thee on my bosom,
And cheer thy parting spirit in its flight.
Oh, wheresoe'er thy fleeting breath shall pass,
Whate'er new body, as the Druids sing,
Thou shalt inform hereafter, still thy soul,
Thou gentle, kind, and ever-pleasing creature,
Shall bear its own felicity along,

Still in its native sweetness shall be blessed,
And in its virtue, which can thus subdue
The fear of death, still brave the power of for-
tune!

[Aside.

But thou begin'st to droop!
Ven. My eyes grow dizzy.
Dum. Keep firin, my heart!
Ven. A heaviness, like sleep,
O'ercomes my senses-Every limb is faint-
Thy voice is scarce distinguished in my ears.
Dum. Indeed!

Ven. Alas! thou look'st so kindly on me!
My weak and darkened sight deceives me sure,
Or thy fond eye did never yet o'erflow
With tenderness like this.

Dum. I never viewed thee

For the last time.

Ven. Look, look upon me stillWhy dost thou turn thy face away? Dum. For nothing.

Ven. Nay thou art weeping, Dumnorix-And wherefore

Wouldst thou conceal thy tears?

Dum. I cannot hide them.

Ven. And dost thou weep?

Dum. I do.

Ven. Then didst thou love me

With such excess of fondness? For Venusia Do these soft streams bedew that awful face?

My faultering tongue

Dum. What sayst thou?
Ven. Cease to grieve

No pain molests me-every pain is calm----
Support my drowsy burthen to that couch-
Where death-serenely smiles.

[He bears her off. Enter FLAMINIUS, speaking to the Romans behind the scene.

Flam. My warlike friends,

Keep back-Our troops on every side advance;
I cannot long controul them. Yet I tremble
To enter there-By Heaven, he lives and sees
me!

Re-enter DUMNORIX, with his sword drawn. Dum. Importunate Flaminius! art thou come To rob my dying moments of their quiet?

Flam. Forgive the crime of ignorance-For-
give,

Since accident hath joined us once again,
If strong compassion at thy fate yet pleads-
Dum. What! when Venusia is no more?
Flam. No more!

Dum. No; and be further lessoned by a Briton,
Who, since his union with the best of women,
Hath never known an interval of love,
And at this solemn pause yet melts in fondness;
While death's black curtain shrouds my cold
Venusia,

Of dearer value doth my soul esteem her,
Than should those eyes rekindle into lustre,
And every charm revive with double power
Of winning beauty, if alone to shine
Amid the gloom of bondage.

Flam. I will urge

No more. Farewell-our legions hover nigh.

[Exit

Dum. Now in my breast resume thy wonted

seat,

Thou manly firmness, which so oft has borne me
Through every toil and danger. Oh, return,
Rise o'er my sorrow, and complete thy last,
Thy highest task, to close a life of glory--
They come !--Be swift, my sword--By thee to
fall,

Near that dear clay extended, best becomes
A soldier's courage, and a husband's love.

[Exit.

Enter ENOBARBUS, FLAMINIUS, and Romans. Enob. To Boadicea's quarter I advanced,