LAN. We'll praise then your great pow'r, 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 honeysuckles crown'd; The bards with harp and rhyming, Green bays their brows entwining, Sweet tune and sweeter ditty, Shall chant your gracious pity. BOTH. By the vervain, &c. We'll praise, we'll praise, we'll praise! [_The image of the moon: the shrine opens._ HUL. Fix, holy brother, now your prayers on one, Britain's chief patroness: with humble cry Let us invoke the moon's bright majesty. [_They kneel._ LAN. Thou queen of heaven, commandress of the deep, Lady of lakes, regent of woods and deer, A lamp dispelling irksome night, the source Of generable moisture; at whose feet, With garments blue and rushy garlands dress'd, Wait twenty thousand Naiades: thy crescent Brute elephants adore, and man doth feel Thy force run through the zodiac of his limbs. O thou first guide of Brutus to this isle, Drive back these proud usurpers from this isle. Whether the name of Cynthia's silver globe: Or chaste Diana with a gilded quiver: Or dread Proserpina, stern Dis his spouse: Or soft Lucina, call'd in childbed throes, Doth thee delight--rise with a glorious face, Green drops of Nereus trickling down thy cheeks, And with bright horns, united in full orb, Toss high the seas, with billows beat the banks, Conjure up Neptune and th' Æolian slaves; Contract both night and winter in a storm, That Romans lose their way, and sooner land At sad Avernus, than at Albion's strand. So may'st thou shun the dragon's head and tail! So may Endymion snort on Latmian bed! So may the fair game fall before thy bow: Shed light on us, but lightning on our foe! HUL. Methinks a gracious lustre spreads her brow, And with a nod she ratifies our suit. WITHIN. Come near, and take this oracle. LAN. Behold, an oracle flies out from her shrine; Which both the king and state shall see, before We dare unfold it. [_Exeunt._ SCENE VII. BRENNUS'S GHOST, NENNIUS _in night-robes_. BREN. Follow me. NEN. Follow! what means that word? who art? thy will? BREN. Follow me, Nennius. NEN. He names me: sure, it is some friend which speaks. I'll follow thee, though't be through Stygian lakes.