Chor. Servant of Cæsar, has thine impious tongue Spent the black venom of its blasphemy? It has. Then take our curses on thine head, Ev'n his fell curses, who doth reign in Mona, Vicegerent of those gods thy pride insults.

Aul. Did. Bold priest, I scorn thy curses, and thyself.

Soldiers, go search the caves, and free the prisoners.
Take heed, ye seize Caractacus alive.

Arrest yon youth; load him with heaviest irons,
He shall to Cæsar answer for his crime.

Elid. I stand prepar'd to triumph in my crime. Aul. Did. 'Tis well, proud boy-Look to the beau[To the soldiers. That tranc'd in grief, bends o'er yon bleeding

teous maid,

corse,

Respect her sorrows.

Evel.

Hence, ye barbarous men,

Ye shall not take him welt'ring thus in blood,
To show at Rome, what British virtue was.
Avaunt! the breathless body that ye touch
Was once Arviragus!

Aul. Did.

We reverence the dead.

Chor.

Fear us not, princess,

Would too to Heav'n,

Ye reverenc'd the gods but ev'n enough
Not to debase with slavery's cruel chain

What they created free.

Aul. Did.

The Romans fight

Not to enslave, but humanize the world.

Chor. Go to, we will not parley with thee, Roman! Instant pronounce our doom.

Aul. Did.

Hear it, and thank us. This once our clemency shall spare your groves,

If at our call ye yield the British king:

Yet learn, when next ye aid the foes of Cæsar, That each old oak, whose solemn gloom ye boast, Shall bow beneath our axes.

Chor.

Be they blasted, Whene'er their shade forgets to shelter virtue!

Enter BARD.

Bard. Mourn, Mona, mourn. Caractacus is captive!
And dost thou smile, false Roman? Do not think
He fell an easy prey. Know, ere he yielded,
Thy bravest veterans bled. He too, thy spy,
The base Brigantian prince, hath seal'd his fraud
With death. Bursting thro' armed ranks, that hemm'd
The caitiff round, the brave Caractacus

Seiz'd his false throat; and as he gave him death
Indignant thunder'd, " Thus is my last stroke
The stroke of justice." Numbers then opprest him:
I saw the slave, that cowardly behind

Pinion'd his arms; I saw the sacred sword

Writh'd from his grasp: I saw, what now ye see, Inglorious sight! those barbarous bonds upon him.

Enter CARACtacus.

Car. Romans, methinks the malice of your tyrant Might furnish heavier chains. Old as I am,

And wither'd as you see these war-worn limbs,
Trust me, they shall support the weightiest load
Injustice dares impose

Proud crested soldier, [To DIDIUS. Who seem'st the master-mover in this business, Say, dost thou read less terror on my brow, Than when thou met'st me in the fields of war Heading my nations? No, my free-born soul Has scorn still left to sparkle through these eyes, And frown defiance on thee.

Then I'm indeed a captive.

Is it thus! [Seeing his son's body. Mighty gods!

My soul, my soul submits: patient it bears
The pond'rous load of grief ye heap upon it.
Yes, it will grovel in this shatter'd breast,
And be the sad tame thing, it ought to be,
Coopt in a servile body.

Aul. Did.

Droop not, king.

When Claudius, the great master of the world,
Shall hear the noble story of thy valour,

His pity

Can a Roman pity, soldier?

Car.
And if he can, gods! must a Briton bear it?

Arviragus, my bold, my breathless boy,
Thou hast escap'd such pity; thou art free.
Here in high Mona shall thy noble limbs.
Rest in a noble grave; posterity

Shall to thy tomb with annual reverence bring
Sepulchral stones, and pile them to the clouds;
Whilst mine-

VOL. VÍ.

Aul. Did. The morn doth hasten our departure. Prepare thee, king, to go: a fav'ring gale

Now swells our sails.

Car.

Inhuman, that thou art!

Dost thou deny a moment for a father

To shed a few warm tears o'er his dead son?
I tell thee, chief, this act might claim a life,
To do it duly; even a longer life,

Than sorrow ever suffer'd. Cruel man!
And thou deniest me moments. Be it so.
I know you Romans weep not for your
children;
Ye triumph o'er your tears, and think it valour;
I triumph in my tears. Yes, best-lov'd boy,
Yes, I can weep, can fall upon thy corse,
And I can tear my hairs, these few grey hairs,
The only honours war and age hath left me.
Ah son! thou might'st have rul'd o'er many nations,
As did thy royal ancestry: but I,

Rash that I was, ne'er knew the golden curb
Discretion hangs on brav'ry: else perchance
These men, that fasten fetters on thy father,

Had sued to him for peace, and claim'd his friend

ship.

Aul. Did. But thou wast still implacable to Rome, And scorn'd her friendship.

Car. (starting up from the body.) Soldier, I had

arms,

Had neighing steeds to whirl my

iron cars,

Had wealth, dominion. Dost thou wonder, Roman,

I fought to save them? What if Cæsar aims,

To lord it universal o'er the world,

Shall the world tamely crouch at Cæsar's footstool? Aul. Did. Read in thy fate our answer. Yet if

sooner

Thy pride had yielded

Car.

Thank thy gods, I did not.

Had it been so, the glory of thy master,

Like my misfortunes, had been short and trivial,
Oblivion's ready prey: now, after struggling
Nine years, and that right bravely 'gainst a tyrant,
I am his slave to treat as seems him good;
If cruelly, 'twill be an easy task

To bow a wretch, alas! how bow'd already!
Down to the dust: if well, his clemency,

When trick'd and varnish'd by your glossing penmen,
Will shine in honour's annals, and adorn
Himself; it boots not me. Look there, look there!
The slave that shot that dart kill'd ev'ry hope
Of lost Caractacus! Arise, my daughter;
Alas! poor prince, art thou too in vile fetters?
[To ELIDURUS.

Come hither, youth: be thou to me a son,
To her a brother. Thus with trembling arms
I lead you forth; children, we go to Rome.
Weep'st thou, my girl? I prithee hoard thy tears
For the sad meeting of thy captive mother:
For we have much to tell her, much to say
Of these good men, who nurtur'd us in Mona;
Much of the fraud and malice, that pursu'd us;
Much of her son, who pour'd his precious blood