I thought their love by mildness might be gained, By peace I was restored, in peace I reigned; But tumults, seditions, And haughty petitions, Are all the effects of a merciful nature; Forgiving and granting, Ere mortals are wanting, But leads to rebelling against their creator. MERCURY _descends._ _Mer._ With pity Jove beholds thy state, But Jove is circumscribed by fate; The o'erwhelming tide rolls on so fast, It gains upon this island's waste; And is opposed too late! too late! _Alb._ What then must helpless Albion do? _Mer._ Delude the fury of the foe, And, to preserve Albanius, let him go; For 'tis decreed, Thy land must bleed, For crimes not thine, by wrathful Jove; A sacred flood Of royal blood Cries vengeance, vengeance, loud above. [MERCURY _ascends._ _Alb._ Shall I, to assuage Their brutal rage, The regal stem destroy? Or must I lose, To please my foes, My sole remaining joy? Ye gods, what worse, What greater curse, Can all your wrath employ! _Alban._ Oh Albion! hear the gods and me! Well am I lost, in saving thee. Not exile or danger can fright a brave spirit, With innocence guarded, With virtue rewarded; I make of my sufferings a merit. _Alb._ Since then the gods and thou will have it so, Go; (Can I live once more to bid thee?) go, Where thy misfortunes call thee, and thy fate; Go, guiltless victim of a guilty state! In war, my champion to defend, In peaceful hours, when souls unbend, My brother, and, what's more, my friend! Borne where the foamy billows roar, On seas less dangerous than the shore; Go, where the gods thy refuge have assigned, Go from my sight; but never from my mind. _Alban._ Whatever hospitable ground Shall be for me, unhappy exile, found, 'Till heaven vouchsafe to smile; What land soe'er,-- Though none so dear As this ungrateful isle,-- O think! O think! no distance can remove My vowed allegiance, and my loyal love. _Alb._ and _Alban._ The rosy-fingered morn appears, And from her mantle shakes her tears, In promise of a glorious day; The sun, returning, mortals chears, And drives the rising mists away, In promise of a glorious day. [_Ritornelle._ _The farther part of the heaven opens, and discovers a Machine; as it moves forward, the clouds which are before it divide, and shew the person of_ APOLLO, _holding the Reins in his Hand. As they fall lower, the Horses appear with the Rays, and a great glory about_ APOLLO. _Apol._ All hail, ye royal pair, The Gods' peculiar care! Fear not the malice of your foes; Their dark designing, And combining, Time and truth shall once expose: Fear not the malice of your foes. II. My sacred oracles assure, The tempest shall not long endure; But when the nation's crimes are purged away, Then shall you both in glory shine; Propitious both, and both divine; In lustre equal to the god of day. [APOLLO _goes forward out of sight._