Nor aught availed, in this unhappy strife,
Diana's sacred arms, to save thy life.
Yet unrevenged thy goddess will not leave
Her votary's death, nor with vain sorrow grieve.
Branded the wretch, and be his name abhorred;
But after-ages shall thy praise record.
The inglorious coward soon shall press the plain:
Thus vows thy queen, and thus the Fates ordain."
High o'er the field, there stood a hilly mound—
Sacred the place, and spread with oaks around—