CAESAR's
DREAM
,
Before
his
Invasion
of
BRITAIN
.
BY
MR.
LANGHORNE
.
WHEN
rough
Helvetia's
hardy
sons
obey
,
And
vanquish'd
Belgia
bows
to
Caesar's
sway
;
When
,
scarce-beheld
,
embattled
nations
fall
,
The
fierce
Sicambrian
,
and
the
faithless
Gaul
;
Tir'd
Freedom
leads
her
savage
sons
no
more
,
But
flies
,
subdu'd
,
to
Albion's
utmost
shore
.
'Twas
then
,
while
stillness
grasp'd
the
sleeping
air
,
And
dewy
slumbers
seal'd
the
eye
of
care
;
Divine
AMBITION
to
her
votary
came
:
Her
left
hand
waving
,
bore
the
trump
of
fame
;
Her
right
a
regal
sceptre
seem'd
to
hold
,
With
gems
far-blazing
from
the
burnish'd
gold
.
And
thus
,
"
My
Son
,
"
the
Queen
of
Glory
said
;
"
Immortal
Caesar
,
raise
thy
languid
head
.
"
Shall
Night's
dull
chains
the
man
of
counsels
bind
?
"
Or
MORPHEUS
rule
the
monarch
of
mankind
?
"
See
worlds
unvanquish'd
yet
await
thy
sword
!
"
Barbaric
lands
,
that
scorn
a
Latian
lord
!
"
See
yon
proud
isle
,
whose
mountains
meet
the
sky
,
"
Thy
foes
encourage
,
and
thy
power
defy
!
"
What
,
tho'
by
Nature's
firmest
bars
secur'd
,
"
By
seas
encircled
,
and
with
rocks
immur'd
,
"
Shall
Caesar
shrink
the
greatest
toils
to
brave
,
"
Scale
the
high
rock
,
or
beat
the
maddening
wave
?
"
She
spoke
—
her
words
the
warrior's
breast
inflame
With
rage
indignant
,
and
with
conscious
shame
;
Already
beat
,
the
swelling
floods
give
way
,
And
the
fell
genii
of
the
rocks
obey
.
Already
shouts
of
triumph
rend
the
skies
,
And
the
thin
rear
of
barbarous
nations
flies
.
Quick
round
their
chief
his
active
legions
stand
,
Dwell
on
his
eye
,
and
wait
the
waving
hand
.
The
Hero
rose
,
majestically
slow
,
And
look'd
attention
to
the
crowds
below
.
'
ROMANS
and
Friends
!
is
there
who
seeks
for
rest
,
'
By
labours
vanquish'd
,
and
with
wounds
opprest
;
'
That
respite
Caesar
shall
with
pleasure
yield
,
'
Due
to
the
toils
of
many
a
well-fought
field
.
'
Is
there
who
shrinks
at
thought
of
dangers
past
,
'
The
ragged
mountain
,
or
the
pathless
waste
—
'
While
savage
hosts
,
or
savage
floods
oppose
,
'
Or
shivering
fancy
pines
in
Alpine
snows
?
'
Let
him
retire
to
Latium's
peaceful
shore
;
'
He
once
has
toil'd
,
and
Caesar
asks
no
more
.
'
Is
there
a
Roman
,
whose
unskaken
breast
'
No
pains
have
conquer'd
,
and
no
fears
deprest
?
'
Who
,
doom'd
thro'
death's
dread
ministers
to
go
,
'
Dares
to
chastise
the
insults
of
a
foe
;
'
Let
him
,
his
country's
glory
and
her
stay
,
'
With
reverence
hear
her
,
and
with
pride
obey
.
'
A
form
divine
,
in
heavenly
splendor
bright
,
'
Whose
look
threw
radiance
round
the
pall
of
night
,
'
With
calm
severity
approach'd
and
said
,
"
Wake
thy
dull
ear
,
and
lift
thy
languid
head
.
"
What
!
shall
a
Roman
sink
in
soft
repose
,
"
And
tamely
see
the
Britons
aid
his
foes
?
"
See
them
secure
the
rebel
Gaul
supply
;
"
Spurn
his
vain
eagles
,
and
his
power
defy
?
"
Go
!
burst
their
barriers
,
obstinately
brave
;
"
Scale
the
wild
rock
,
and
beat
the
maddening
wave
.
"
Here
paus'd
the
chief
,
but
waited
no
reply
,
The
voice
assenting
spoke
from
every
eye
;
Nor
,
as
the
kindness
that
reproach'd
with
fear
,
Were
dangers
dreadful
,
or
were
toils
severe
.