Hor. Yea, to our right the Briton’s strength is form’d.
Heng. Then, bid them wait the enemy’s attack.
[Exit Hor.
Now, O, ye gods! prove to my pray’r propitious,
And yield me but the victory this day.
A mightier force I’ve summon’d to this isle,
And with them my fair daughter will arrive.
If, then, her beauty catch this vicious king,
E’en as mine own I’ll hail the fertile land,
And these brave Britons, by my arts and arms,