Garrick Plays.
No. XXXIII.
[From the “True Trojans, or Fuimus Troes,” an Historical Play, Author unknown, 1633.]
Invocation of the Druids to the Gods of Britain, on the invasion of Cæsar.
Draw near, ye Heav’nly Powers,
Who dwell in starry bowers;
And ye, who in the deep
On mossy pillows sleep;
And ye who keep the centre,
Where never light did enter;
And ye whose habitations
Are still among the nations,
To see and hear our doings,
Our births, our wars, our wooings;
Behold our present grief
Belief doth beg relief.
By the vervain and lunary,
By fern seed planetary,
By the dreadful misletoe
Which doth on holy oak grow,
Draw near, draw near, draw near.
Help us beset with danger,
And turn away your anger;
Help us begirt with trouble,
And now your mercy double;
Help us opprest with sorrow
And fight for us to-morrow.
Let fire consume the foeman,
Let air infest the Roman,
Let seas intomb their fury,
Let gaping earth them bury.
Let fire, and air, and water,
And earth conspire their slaughter.
By the vervain, &c.
We’ll praise then your great power,
Each month, each day, each hour,
And blaze in lasting story
Your honour and your glory.
High altars lost in vapour,
Young heifers free from labour,
White lambs for suck still crying,
Shall make your music dying,
The boys and girls around,
With honey suckles crown’d;
The bards with harp and rhiming
Green bays their brows entwining,
Sweet tune and sweeter ditty,
Shall chaunt your gracious pity.
By the vervain, &c.