Enter VENUSIA. Ven. Now let my duty o'er my fear prevail, Fill my whole breast with tenderness, and heal With sweetest comfort thy distress. Dum. My wife! Thou most unlike to yon degen'rate woman, Her country's bane ! Ven. I tremble at thy words. Dum. Be not dismay'd; the camp is still our own. Night is impending, and the Romans halt. Ven. But what of Boadicea ? Dum. Hear and mourn. The Trinobantians scarce had fill'd the vale, Enter BOADICEA. Dum. Gods! art thou safe? Ven. Oh! most unhappy sister! When last we parted, cruel were thy words, That thou couldst deviate from a prosp'rous course, When ev'ry gale conspir'd to swell thy glory. Boad. Throw not on me the crime of envious for tune. Dum. Dost thou blame fortune, traitress? Boad. Then the blame Take on thy single head. Dum. Avoid my sight. Boad. Thou led'st the van. Dum. Avaunt! Boad. Thou fled'st the first. Now find'st too late th' importance of a woman. With blind presumption, and by envy stung, Dar'd to dispute with me supreme command, Dum. Shall thy perfections kneel To this Ven. Oh! stop, nor give resentment utt'rance. In such a cause the proudest knee might sue To less than Boadicea- -Turn not from me! [To Boadicea. Look on a prostrate sister; think, thou hear'st Our children's plaintive notes enforce my pray❜r, And Albion's genius mix his solemn moan; That lamentations through thy ears resound From all the wives and mothers of those thousands, Whose limbs lie stretch'd on yonder fields of death; "Those wretched wives and mothers, oh! reflect, "But for the fatal discord of this day, "With other looks, with other cries and gestures, "With diff'rent transports, and with diff'rent tears, "Might have receiv'd their sons and husbands home, "Than they will now survey their pale remains, Which there lie mangled by the Roman sword" o feed the raven's hunger-yet relent! Yet let restoring union close our wounds, And to repair this ruin be thy praise ! Dum. Rise, rise. Thy mildness, whose persuasive charm No cruelty, but hers, could hear unmov'd, In vain would render placable and wise Boad. Oh! Dum. Dost thou groan? Boad. No, no, I do not feel a moment's pain. Dum. Thy words are false. Thy heart o'erflows with anguish. Boad. No, I despise both thee and fortune still. A frantic woman, who resign'd her hopes, Boad. May curses blast thee, worse than I can utte And keener pangs than whips or shackles seize thee? Ven. Oh! sister, how unseemly is this rage! Whom dost thou load with these ungen'rous curses? Thy faithful friend, thy counsellor and brother, Whom thou has injur'd, injur'd past the pow'r Of reparation. "Dost thou call for whips "To print those venerable limbs with shame, "For bonds to humble that majestic head, "Which foes themselves must honour? Yet, if chains "Must be our fate, what cruel hand hath forg'd them, "But thine alone? Thy hand hath heap'd destruction "On him, thy once rever'd ally, on me, "On my poor children, guiltless of offence, "And on thy own, who claim'd protection from thee;" Yet thou, obdurate, to thy rage a prey, Dost chide remorse and pity from thy breast. Dum. Source of thy own afflictions! thee to behold [To Boadicea. Distracted thus, thus fall'n and lost, to see Thus strongly painted on thy lab'ring features Is thus deserted by her patron goddess, And be deceiv'd. Ev'n now I feel her aid; [Aside. |