Flam. I will, and Jove be witness to my word.

Dum. Give thy last charge, Venusia, to Tenantius. One word apart with thee, my Roman friend. As thou art gen'rous, answer me with truth. When must thou make thy signal ?

Flam. At the dawn,

Whose beams, though faint, already tinge the east. Dum. What time will bring your legions near this tent?

Flam. An hour at farthest.

Dum. I have heard, Flaminius,

Of your forefathers' spirit, how they fell
Oft on their swords to shun ignoble bondage.
This part have we to act; and, friendly Roman,
When thou shalt see our cold remains-my own
Are little worth attention-Oh, remember
Venusia's goodness, and her gentle clay
Defend from shame and insult!

Flam. Thou dost pierce

My heart-I cannot answer-But believe
These tears sincere.

Dum. Enough. Perform thy promise.
Thy obligations will be then discharg'd.
Farewell. Fulfil thy general's commands.

[Exit Flam. Ven. [To Tenan.] Thou future parent of my orphan

babes,

Soon as their gen'rous minds imbibe thy precepts,
And thy example warms their budding virtues,
Do not forget to tell them, that no perils,

Nor death in all its terrors, can efface

Maternal love; that their ill-fated mother,

Amid this awful season of distress,

Wept but for them, and lost her fears in fondness. 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 approv'd fidelity and love,

Thy chief, just ent'ring 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-finish'd being. Radiant pow'r! Thou through thy endless journey may'st proclaim That Dumnorix died free, for thou shalt view it. Behold th' appointed signal from the grove, Just as Flaminius warn'd us, is uprear'd, 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 honour'd mansions of our fathers, Ye hallow'd altars, and ye awful groves, The habitation of our gods, farewell!

"And yet the guilty auth'ress of these woes
"Deserves a share of praise, who, still retaining

"One unextinguish'd spark of gen'rous honour,
"Scorn'd 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, Venusia.
Ven. Oh, my lord!

Dum. Why heaves that sigh?

Ven. Alas, I am a woman!

Dum. True, a defenceless woman, and expos'd
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 spirit-
We only ask thee to be free, and die.
Well, my Venusia, is thy soul resolv'd,
Or shall I still afford a longer pause?

[Aside.

Ven. Though my weak sex by nature is not arm'd

With fortitude like thine, of this be sure,

That dear subjection to thy honour'd will,
Which hath my life directed, ev'n 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. [Ex. Dum. For ev'ry pass'd possession of delight,

Both in my offspring and their godlike sire,
A dying matron bends her grateful knee.
Ye all-disposing pow'rs! as now these blessings
Must reach their period, to my sons transfer
That copious goodness I have shar'd 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 arm'd,

[He gives her the bowl, and she drinks. "Now stand a while before the fanning breeze;

"So with its subtle energy the potion,

"Less rudely stealing on the pow'rs of life, "Will best perform its office, to remove

"Pain, fear, and grief for ever from thy breast.” Dost thou not feel already ev'ry terror

Begins 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 unimpair'd. 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 I
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 tend'rest 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 bless'd,
And in its virtue, which can thus subdue