_Em._ Indeed I thought you had a nose and eyes, And such a face as mine: have not men faces? _Arth._ Oh, none like yours, so excellently fair. _Em._ Then would I had no face; for I would be Just such a one as you. _Arth._ Alas, 'tis vain to instruct your innocence; You have no notion of light or colours. [_Trumpet sounds within._ _Em._ Why, is not that a trumpet? _Arth._ Yes. _Em._ I knew it, And I can tell you how the sound on't looks; It looks as if it had an angry fighting face.[19] _Arth._ 'Tis now indeed a sharp unpleasant sound, Because it calls me hence from her I love, To meet ten thousand foes. _Em._ How do so many men e'er come to meet? This devil trumpet vexes them, and then They feel about for one another's faces; And so they meet, and kill. _Arth._ I'll tell you all, when we have gained the field. One kiss of your fair hand, the pledge of conquest, And so a short farewell. [_Kisses her Hand, and Exit with_ AURELIUS, ALBANACT, _and Attendants_. _Em._ My heart and vows go with him to the fight. May every foe be that which they call blind, And none of all their swords have eyes to find him!-- But lead me nearer to the trumpet's face; For that brave sound upholds my fainting heart; And, while I hear, methinks I fight my part. [_Exit, led by_ MATILDA. SCENE II.--_A Place of Heathen Worship. The Three Saxon Gods_, WODEN, THOR, _and_ FREYA, _placed on Pedestals. An Altar._ _Enter_ OSWALD _and_ OSMOND. _Osm._ 'Tis time to hasten our mysterious rites, Because your army waits you. _Osw._ Thor, Freya, Woden, all ye Saxon powers, [_Making three Bows before the three Images._ Hear and revenge my father Hengist's death! _Osm._ Father of gods and men, great Woden, hear! Mount thy hot courser, drive amidst thy foes, Lift high thy thundering arm, let every blow Dash out a misbelieving Briton's brains! _Osw._ Father of gods and men, great Woden, hear! Give conquest to thy Saxon race, and me! _Osm._ Thor, Freya, Woden, hear, and spell your Saxons, With sacred Runick rhymes, from death in battle; Edge their bright swords, and blunt the Britons' darts!--[20] No more, great prince; for see my trusty fiend, Who all the night has winged the dusky air.-- GRINBALD, _a fierce earthy Spirit, arises_. What news, my Grimbald? _Grim._ I have played my part; For I have steeled the fools that are to die,-- Six fools, so prodigal of life and soul, That, for their country, they devote their lives A sacrifice to mother Earth, and Woden. _Osm._ 'Tis well; but are we sure of victory? _Grim._ Why askest thou me? Inspect their entrails, draw from thence thy guess: Blood we must have, without it we are dumb.