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Warm'd by his rays, with wond'rous virtues blest

To chase disease and pain, involv'd in mist

Smoke on the plain, and tell th' inhabitants

How grateful to the god their incense burns.

Two days they march. The third, Verlucio's walls
Receives them wearied: but the rising sun,

Again reflected from their burnish'd arms,
Beholds the moving thousands. Now they pass
The forest TM vast, which glooms an horrid shade,
The scene of future slaughter. There the Saxon
Shall dye his conquering sword in British blood.
There England wage with Denmark dreadful war,
Now conquer'd, now triumphant; Ethelred
Now bite the ground, and noble Edmund now
Urge over heaps of slain his foaming steed.

But when six times the sun had ting'd with gold
The mountain tops, chasing the damps of night,
And now, from his meridian height declin'd,

m Selwood.

Down tow'rd his western goal had shap'd his course,
They fix their station by the banks of Sture.

There sheath'd in arms, with thoughts of vengeance fir'd,

They found the gather'd pow'rs of Deunan's vales,
That dwell by Tamar's stream, and pleasant Teave,

Adorn'd with waving woods, where noble Orgar

In after days, entranc'd in holy vision,

Convers'd with heav'n; and where the Plym, now join'd

With rushing Tamar, meets the ocean's foam.

Oft on the margin of the flood, the Seer,

Rapt in prophetic ecstasy, beheld

Its future glories: lofty structures rise;

And on the heaving waves ride the huge bulk
Of mighty ships, of form unknown, and stor'd
With engines horrible, to shake beneath

The caverns of the deep with thunder's voice,
And awe with lightnings dread the subject sea.

Or to his wond'ring eyes confest appear'd

high The awful form of Drake, on his designs

Intent; on whose majestic brow were seen

Deep thought and firm resolve; and at his feet

Proud Spain lies prostrate; Mexico pours forth
Her wealth; and rich Peru her victor owns;
While eastern monarchs to the hero's fame
Pay willing homage. Next, from Arme's vales.
And those fair fields which fruitful Aune divides,
Where high Saint Michael's overlooks the main,
Appear the warlike youth. And where the Dart,
Through his bleak mountains and his craggy rocks,
Black with loud tempests, while the rushing torrent
Defiles his waters with the soil impure

Of heathy moor, rolls his indignant course :
Or, ling'ring now amidst his flow'ry meads,
Shaded with woods, with fragrant myrtle grac'd,
Smooth-gliding, and reluctant seeks the sea.
From Tinga, where the fear-struck Saxon first
Beheld the fierce invaders," issuing forth

n The Danes first landed at Tinmouth; and the French, after the action off Beachy-Head, burnt the town and some fishing vessels in the harbour.

From their black ships, and their portentous standard,

The magic Raven, beat the troubled air:

And where, in later days, vain-glorious France
Snatch'd a short triumph, soon to mourn in blood,

When on her stormy coast the British cross

Wav'd terrible, (the war brave Russell led,)

And her proud navies in her havens flam'd.

From Isca's banks, where the full river rolls,

With all his tributary waters swell'd,

And Moridunum sees her subject stream

Mix with the boundless sea, the martial bands
Advance. But from fair Mula's winding course,'
From Isca's northern waves and Tavia's shores,

And that high promontory, which repels

The foaming tempests of th' Hibernian sea,

Nam'd, from th' immortal son of thund'ring Jove,

The Point of Hercules, no warriors came.

These with incursion swift, and vantage strong,

The foe possest, and crush'd the rising war.

Nor with less ardour from the blissful seats,

Where, softly-breathing from the neighbouring main,

Reigns the warm breeze; where laughing Summer

spreads

Perpetual joy, and gaily sporting throws,

With lavish hand, her rosy fragrance round,

While Winter frowns in vain, the youth appears.
From the swift Parrett they, and fruitful Thone,
And that cloud-piercing hill, the future theme
Of many a bard; but yet unknown to fame
Were Arthur's noble knights, and Arthur's deeds.
Six valiant chiefs the hardy bands obey'd:
Assaracus, whose name proclaims his race
Deriv'd from sacred Troy. To Britain's shore
He came with Brutus. On his manly limbs
The scars of many an honourable wound
Appear'd. Though age had silver'd o'er his hair,

Vig'rous he seem'd, and in his sinewy grasp

Brandish'd a pond'rous spear: before his host

• Somersetshire has been said to have its name from the mild

ness of the air, the land of Summer.

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