And kingdoms rise or fall, give to our words Persuasion's winning charms; those charms which smooth The brow of wrath, and of his cruel purpose Beguile revenge! so may impartial reason Decide between us, and the Scourge of war Pass from the nations! War, remorseless power, Impels, the palm bestows; and on the ground On conquest's eagle pinion. But unblam'd May. we declare our message, and against Urge our bold charge, as sacred justice bids? Conscious of right, to you, illustrious chiefs, "Not urg'd by lust of war, nor blind obedience To pow'r superior, sheath'd in arms we stand; Mempricius now resumes. "Thus Locrine bids. 4 Say to Cornubia, o'er our peaceful realm Why have your threat'ning armies pour'd dismay? If we have exil'd from our throne and bed The haughty Guendolen, our kingly pow'r With spells, and dark conspiracy, assail'd Her husband's throne and life. Before Cornubia Our proofs produc'd shall vouch the charge: submission, If lightly urg'd, atone. Or will she dare, By white-rob'd priests in solemn order led, Approach the charmed rock, which from its base Self-mov'd inclines, when truth is near, and heav'n To witness call? Till then suspend the war." While from her eyes insulted innocence Flash'd lightnings. "Yes, we court the awful trial. Connubial Juno, hear! hear, mighty Jove! Hear, righteous Themis! for you know my truth. To have sustain'd my wrongs: if to have wept Yet taught my languid cheek to wear a smile Upon his alter'd brow: if to have waited With fondest love and most attentive duty If this be dark conspiracy, if this Be proud rebellion, I indeed am guilty. Alas! and what has been the meed of patience? Repeated insult, hard, unfeeling insult. And, when exhausted cruelty supplied No fiercer torture, last, disgraceful exile Thus spoke indignant: "Mighty queen, forbear. Those injur'd gods detect. The fraud is plain. Which owns his sway, from all her provinces Pours forth her armed sons to fight his battles? No, let Cornubia back return defiance, And hostile scorn. Ev'n now, our spies report, Ten thousand warriors from their northern confines, From Medway's banks, and Thames' majestic wave, Urge their swift march. Retire, Loëgrian chiefs, Your arts avail not. On your camp we pour Instant the vengeance of our injur'd queen, If great Belinus give our fury way." Ebrancus thus. Belinus thus replied: "Well hast thou spoke, chief of Cornubian heroes, Still first in action, still in council wise. Mempricius, tell your king, his shallow arts Protect his guilt no more, but by his sword His safety must be purchas'd. Thy weak age Enter our tent, and share the gènial feast, Accept the honours due to age and thee." "No; to the king," the hoary warrior said, "We bear thy answer; what the morn shall bring We mourn, but fear not." Now the council rose. Through all th' extended camp the troops indulge The banquet, till the shades of night descend. Not so the mournful Guendolen. Retir'd, |