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 call'd this unaccustom'd moisture
Into thy soldier's eyes?

Dum. Thou dost not weep,

My gallant vetʼran- -I have been to blame.
A tenderness resulting from a care,

Which struggles here, subdu'd me for a moment.
This shall be soon discharg'd, 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, thou take these helpless infants;
With thee transport them to our northern frontiers,
And hide them deep in Caledonian woods.
There, in their growing years, excite and cherish
The dear remembrance of their native fields;
That, to redeem them from th' Italian spoiler,
If e'er some kind occasion should invite,

Forth from their covert they may spring undaunted. "Ne'er let the race of Dumnorix divert

"One thought from Albion to their own repose. "Remind them often of their father's toils,

"Whom thou leav'st grappling to the last with fortune."

And if beneath this island's mould'ring 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,
Rais'd by my virtue, living in my sons.

[Exeunt.

ACT V. SCENE 1.

Enter VENUSIA.

Venusia.

A Hollow sound of tumult strikes my ear;
Perhaps the howl of some night-roaming wolves,
Who, wak'd by hunger, from their gloomy haunts
Are trooping forth to make their fell repast
On my fresh-bleeding countrymen, whose limbs
O'erspread the valley. Shall I mourn your fall,
Lost friends, who, couch'd in death, forget your

cares,

I, who may shortly join your ghastly band,
Unless that forest yield its promis'd aid ›
O hope, sweet flatt'rer, whose delusive touch
Sheds on afflicted minds the balm of comfort,
Relieves the load of poverty, sustains

The captive, bending with the weight of bonds,
And smooths the pillow of disease and pain,
Send back th' exploring messenger with joy,
And let me hail thee from that friendly grove.

Enter DUMNORIX.

Dum. Why hast thou left thy couch?

Ven. I heard a sound,

Like tumult at a distance.

Dum. So did I,

As near the op'ning pass I stood, to watch

Our messenger's return.

Enter EBRANCUS.

What means this haste?

Why look'st thou pale ?

Ebran. With thy instructions charg'd,
I sought th' Icenian quarter. All around
Was solitude and silence. When I call'd,
No voice reply'd. To Boadicea's tent

With fearful haste I trod. Her daughters there
I found in consternation. I enquir'd

The cause: they answer'd only with their tears;
Till from the princess Emmeline at last

I learn'd, that all th' Icenians were that hour
In silent march departed; but their course
She could not tell me that her furious mother
Had with a fell, determin'd look enjoin'd 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 carry'st?

Icen. Honour'd chief,

If ought appears disorder'd 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 befal us now!

Dum. [To the Icen.] Wilt thou begin?

Icen. I come from Boadicea.

Dum Where is she?

Icen. Far advanc'd 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 march'd, to me this secret charge
In words, like these, she gave.-Observe our course;
When I have pass'd 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 dishonour'd.
The Trinobantian, of his Roman friends

So well deserving, may accept their grace.-
This said, with wild emotion in her breast,
Her visage black'ning with despair and horror,
She straight committed to my trembling hands
Two fatal bowls, which flow with poison'd stream:

I have accomplish'd 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 Içenian.

2d Icen. Oh! Dumnorix!

Dum. Icenian, spare thy voice.

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

2d Icen. We are vanquish'd.

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 environ'd by distress,

Now weigh our actions past, deform'd, or fair,