94
GONDIBERT,
80.
To the dark Inn (where weary Valour, free
From thankless dangers rests) brave Oswald's gone!
But Hubert may, though vanquish'd, live to see
Your Victor with his victory undone!
To the dark Inn (where weary Valour, free
From thankless dangers rests) brave Oswald's gone!
But Hubert may, though vanquish'd, live to see
Your Victor with his victory undone!
81.
This said, she mounts (with a tempestuous Brow)
The Chariot her Calabrian Coursers drew;
Lifted by Slaves (who still about her bow)
As if with wings of swift Revenge she flew.
This said, she mounts (with a tempestuous Brow)
The Chariot her Calabrian Coursers drew;
Lifted by Slaves (who still about her bow)
As if with wings of swift Revenge she flew.
82.
To Brescia's Camp her course she had design'd;
And bids her Tuscan Charioter drive on,
As if his Steeds were dieted with wind!
Slow seems their speed whose thoughts before them run
To Brescia's Camp her course she had design'd;
And bids her Tuscan Charioter drive on,
As if his Steeds were dieted with wind!
Slow seems their speed whose thoughts before them run
83.
The pav'd Streets kindle with her Chariot wheels!
The Omen of wars fire the Citie spies,
Which with those sparks struck by her Coursers heels,
Shine not so much as rage does in her Eyes.
The pav'd Streets kindle with her Chariot wheels!
The Omen of wars fire the Citie spies,
Which with those sparks struck by her Coursers heels,
Shine not so much as rage does in her Eyes.
84.
Those that observ'd her anger, grief, and haste,
With ancient Roman melancholy mourn;
She seem'd their Cities Genius as she pass'd,
Who by their Sins expell'd, would ne'r return.
Those that observ'd her anger, grief, and haste,
With ancient Roman melancholy mourn;
She seem'd their Cities Genius as she pass'd,
Who by their Sins expell'd, would ne'r return.
85.
The gentle Ladies, she has left in tears,
Who no example need, nor cause to melt;
For soon even grief's Alarms, our foremost tears,
Kill those whose pain by Love's quick sence is felt.
The gentle Ladies, she has left in tears,
Who no example need, nor cause to melt;
For soon even grief's Alarms, our foremost tears,
Kill those whose pain by Love's quick sence is felt.
86.
And Rhodalind her fatal love does blame,
Because she finds it now by Gartha spy'd;
And does lament Love's fire, which bashfull shame
Cannot reveal, nor her discretion hide.
And Rhodalind her fatal love does blame,
Because she finds it now by Gartha spy'd;
And does lament Love's fire, which bashfull shame
Cannot reveal, nor her discretion hide.
She
