Since thus through channels black of Limbo lake, And deep infernal flood of Stygian pool, The ghastly Charon’s boat transported back Thy ghost from Pluto’s pits and glooming shade To former light, once lost by dest’ny’s doom, Where proud Pendragon, broil’d with shameful lust, Despoil’d thee erst of wife, of land and life, Now, Gorlois, work thy wish, cast here thy gall: Glut on revenge! thy wrath abhors delays. What though (besides Pendragon’s poisoned end) The vile reproach he wrought thee by thy pheer,[253] Through deep increase of crimes alike is plagu’d; And that the shame thou sufered’st for his lusts, Reboundeth back and stifleth in his stock, Yet is not mischief’s measure all fulfill’d, Nor wreak sufficient wrought. Thy murdered corpse And dukedom reft for heavier vengeance cries. Come, therefore, blooms of settled mischief’s root: Come, each thing else what fury can invent, Wreak all at once! infect the air with plagues, Till bad to worse, till worse to worse be turn’d! Let mischiefs know no mean, nor plagues an end! Let th’ offspring’s sin exceed the former stock! Let none have time to hate his former fault, But still with fresh supply let punish’d crime Increase, till time it make a complete sin! Go to: some fact, which no age shall allow Nor yet conceal--some fact must needs be dur’d, That for the horror great and outrage fell Thereof may well beseem Pendragon’s brood. And first, while Arthur’s navies homeward float, Triumphantly bedeck’d with Roman spoils, Let Guenevera express what frantic moods Distract a wife, when wronging wedlock’s rights, Both fond and fell, she loves and loathes at once. Let deep despair pursue till, loathing life, Her hateful head in cowl and cloister lurk. Let traitorous Mordred keep his sire from shore; Let Britain rest a prey for foreign powers; Let sword and fire, still fed with mutual strife, Turn all the kings to ghosts: let civil wars And discord swell, till all the realm be torn! Even in that soil whereof myself was Duke, Where first my spouse Igerna brake her vow, Where this ungracious offspring was begot: In Cornwall--there let Mordred’s death declare, Let Arthur’s fatal wound bewray, the wrong, The murder vile, the rape of wife and weal, Wherewith their sire incens’d both Gods and man. Thus, thus Pendragon’s seed, so sown and reap’d, Thus cursed imps, ill-born and worse consum’d, Shall render just revenge for parents’ crimes, And penance do, t’ assuage my swelling wrath. The whiles, O Cassiopœa, gem-bright sign, Most sacred sight and sweet celestial star, This climate’s joy, plac’d in imperial throne, With fragrant olive-branch portending peace; And whosoe’er besides, ye heavenly powers, (Her stately train with influence divine, And mild aspect all prone to Britain’s good) Foresee what present plagues do threat this isle, Prevent not this my wreak. For you there rests