Enter Androgeus, Mandubratius, Soldiers.
And. Thus join we standards; and resign the keys
Of Troynovant with all our warlike forces.
Man. By me the Trinobants[334] submit, and Cenimagnians,
Segontiacs, Ancalites, Bybrocs, and Cassians:
Six worthy nations do desire thy guard.
Cæs. All, all shall know our love.
Man. The tyrant lies on Isis' flow'ry banks,
Where a full choir sing of white surplic'd swans.
The ford's unlevel belly they have fenc'd
With sharp stakes under water.
Cæs. Nor stakes, lakes, fords, nor swords shall check our progress.
Those downy swans shall hear more funeral notes.
Their kings departed, Nennius dead, whose loss
Would tears extort even from pumicean eyes:
Had Britain nurs'd but such another champion,
They might have stuck their darts on our barr'd gates,
And Latium trembled with contrary fates.[335]
In what now lies their hope?
Man. Great numbers still remain: nay, worse, they laugh
At death, and boldly trust (as Druids preach)
Their souls who die in fight shall live in joy.
Hence count they dangers benefits, and die
With freedom in their mouth and wilful rage.
But let soft mildness wait on women; let
Thy wrath ring through the woods in dusty noise,
To tell thy coming. No man's built so lofty,
But his foundation meets the humble dust;
Which undermin'd, how high he pierc'd the clouds,
So deep he sinks.
Hostile and civil foes shake top and root,
As winds invade above and mines below.
And so will we.
Cæs. No doubt: this blow shall like an earthquake move
The roots and pillars of this sea-clipp'd isle.
A cloud of vultures shall attend our camp,
And no more shall the fields bear vert, but gules:[336]
The grain, engrain'd in purple dye, shall lose
His verdant hue. Bones, marrow, human limbs
Shall putrifying reek, whose vapour'd slime,
Kindl'd on high, may breed long-bearded stars,
To tell more mischief, and outbeard Apollo.
Man. Let's waste no time, lest more unto him flock,
As humours glide to guard the wounded member.
Cæs. Atrius, let our ships be drawn on shore,
New-rigg'd and mended. I must needs confess him
A darling of the gods, under whose colours
Stars, winter, sky, and tempests serve in pay,
And know both march and skirmish by his drum. [Exeunt.