Oh, my brave leaders! in this warm embrace, [They all embrace. Let us infuse that fortitude of soul, To all but England's daring sons unknown! "Firm as the stately oak, our island's boast, "Which fiercest hurricanes assault in vain, "We'll stand the driving tempest of their fury. "And who shall shake our martial glories from us? "Yon puny Gauls? They ne'er have done it yet, "Nor shall they now-Oh, never will we wrong "So far ourselves and our renown'd forefathers!" Here part we, lords; attend your sev'ral duties. Audley, distribute thro' the camp provisions Keep ev'ry soldier's spirits in a glow, Till from the French this final message comes: Plung'd in the dreadful storm of bloody fight, ACT IV. SCENE I. The French Camp. Enter RIBEMONT. Ribemont. [Exeunt. THE troops, array'd, stand ready to advance; And this short pause, this silent interval, With awful horror strikes upon my soul I know not whence it comes, but till this moment, Fear, thou art still a stranger here; and death Then let me shake this lethargy away By Heav'n, it wo' not off!- -The sweat of death My feet seem rivetted-my blood congeals- -Thou ever awful form! What, a sigh ! Why art thou present?-Wherefore Oh, smile of sweet relief!—If aught from Heav'n A mortal ear be worthy to- Again That piteous action! that dejected air 1 Speak out the cause-I beg thee, speak-'tis gone!"Yet would I gaze, by such enchantment bound"Thou pleasing, dreadful vision!”—Oh, return! Unfold thy errand, tho' I die with hearing- Enter ATHENS. Ath. You're well encounter'd, Ribemont; the king, Ere this, has Edward's answer; as I past F The bound'ries of our camp on yonder side, I saw the Nuncio posting like the wind, Their course directed to our monarch's tent. What means this, Ribemont?--Thou'rt lost in thought! Rib. Athens!-I am unsoldier'd; I'm unmann'dWonder you may, my noble friend; for see, I shake, I tremble- Ath. Say, at what? Rib. Why-nothing. Ath. Should the vast host that here are rang'd for battle, (Warm with impatience, eager for the fray) Behold that Ribemont alone has fear, What wonder would it cause! For thou, of all, Rib. Believe me, Athens, I am not stricken with a coward's feeling: A sinking; whence I knew not; till, at length, And struck me motionless. Ath. 'Twas only fancy. Rib. Oh, no, my Athens! plainly I beheld My father in the habit that he wore When, with paternal smiles, he hung this weapon Have worn it ever. Wherefore then this visit? Why, in that garb in which he fix'd my fortune, "And charg'd me to repay his care with glory?" If 'tis an omen of impending guilt, O, soul of him I honour, once again Come from thy heav'n, and tell me what it is, Ath. Nought but a waking dream; a vapour'd brain. Rib. Once his pale visage seem'd to wear a smile, A look of approbation, not reproof; But the next moment, with uplifted hands And heaving bosom, sadly on the earth He turn'd his eyes, and sorely seem'd to weep. "I heard, or fancy'd that I heard a groan, "As from the ground his look was rais'd to me;" Then, shaking with a mournful glance his head, He melted into air. Ath. Pr'ythee, no more You talk'd of melancholy, that was all; Rib. To-morrow! Oh, that mention of to-morrow! There are opinions, Athens, that our friends Ath. See, thro' yon clouds of dust, with how much speed The Nuncio hastens to the English camp! Perhaps the terms for safety are agreed; Then where's a meaning for thy fancy'd vision ? "My nerves and sinews to their wonted tone. [Exeunt. |