Book 1.
An Heroick Poem.
7
Who soon will Judge, they Scepters weakly sway,
Except their Martial Power, their Foes obey.
Which Glorious End these Princes did Pursue,
Joyning the greatness of their Councels now.
While thus to Vortiger, Albianus speaks,
(Plac'd in due State) Oh dearest Prince, what makes
Foes thus Conspire, or can Heaven think it good
War longer should consume, our Countryes blood?
What do'st Import, Great Battels to have wonn
Gainst Scots, alass, who Fight us for the Sun?
Inforc'd by Nature, and their Colder soile,
To Sacrifice themselves to Wars fierce Toil.
Or, that more Lustful Power of Rome, we see
Wasted, though long our Fatal Enemy?
While its Bold Consul Ennius, now yields
T'Encamp in utmost Kent, and Quit close Fields;
If like a Tiger forc'd unto a Den
With Rage Recruited, he dares Prey agen.
Except their Martial Power, their Foes obey.
Which Glorious End these Princes did Pursue,
Joyning the greatness of their Councels now.
While thus to Vortiger, Albianus speaks,
(Plac'd in due State) Oh dearest Prince, what makes
Foes thus Conspire, or can Heaven think it good
War longer should consume, our Countryes blood?
What do'st Import, Great Battels to have wonn
Gainst Scots, alass, who Fight us for the Sun?
Inforc'd by Nature, and their Colder soile,
To Sacrifice themselves to Wars fierce Toil.
Or, that more Lustful Power of Rome, we see
Wasted, though long our Fatal Enemy?
While its Bold Consul Ennius, now yields
T'Encamp in utmost Kent, and Quit close Fields;
If like a Tiger forc'd unto a Den
With Rage Recruited, he dares Prey agen.
What
