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GONDIBERT,
55.
If you are those of whom I oft have heard
My Father boast, and that have Oswald bred;
Ah, where is now that rage our Tyrant fear'd;
Whose Darling is alive, though yours be dead?
If you are those of whom I oft have heard
My Father boast, and that have Oswald bred;
Ah, where is now that rage our Tyrant fear'd;
Whose Darling is alive, though yours be dead?
56.
The Court shines out at Rhodalind's commands,
To me (your drooping Flowre) no beam can spare;
Where Oswald's name new planted by your hands,
Withers, as if it lost the planters care.
The Court shines out at Rhodalind's commands,
To me (your drooping Flowre) no beam can spare;
Where Oswald's name new planted by your hands,
Withers, as if it lost the planters care.
57.
From Rhodalind I thus disorder'd flie;
Lest she should say, thy Fate unpity'd comes!
Go sing, where now thy Fathers Fighters lie,
Thy Brothers Requiem, to their conqu'ring Drums!
From Rhodalind I thus disorder'd flie;
Lest she should say, thy Fate unpity'd comes!
Go sing, where now thy Fathers Fighters lie,
Thy Brothers Requiem, to their conqu'ring Drums!
58.
The happy Fields by those grave Warriours fought,
(Which from the Dictates of thy aged Syre,
Oswald in high Victorious Numbers wrote)
Thou shalt no more sing to thy silenc'd Lyre!
The happy Fields by those grave Warriours fought,
(Which from the Dictates of thy aged Syre,
Oswald in high Victorious Numbers wrote)
Thou shalt no more sing to thy silenc'd Lyre!
59.
Such scorns, pow'r on unlucky virtue throws,
When Courts with prosp'rous vices wanton are;
Who your Authentick age dispise for those,
Who are to you but Infants of the war.
Such scorns, pow'r on unlucky virtue throws,
When Courts with prosp'rous vices wanton are;
Who your Authentick age dispise for those,
Who are to you but Infants of the war.
60.
Thus though she spake, her looks did more perswade;
Like virtuous anger did her colour rise,
As if th' injurious world it would invade,
Whilst tears of rage not pitie drown her Eyes.
Thus though she spake, her looks did more perswade;
Like virtuous anger did her colour rise,
As if th' injurious world it would invade,
Whilst tears of rage not pitie drown her Eyes.
61.
The sun did thus to threatned Nature show
His anger red, whilst guilt look'd pale in all;
When Clouds of Flouds did hang about his Brow,
And then shrunk back to let that anger fall.
The sun did thus to threatned Nature show
His anger red, whilst guilt look'd pale in all;
When Clouds of Flouds did hang about his Brow,
And then shrunk back to let that anger fall.
And
