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What, are the gods asham'd to lend their aid ;
Now rule, now lord and king it, with this fate,
still the period of thy date.
Jolin Dancer's Poems,
* For the circumstances of this interview, see Livy, Lib. II. Sec. also Plutareh's Life of Publicola.
EFFECTED BETWEEN THE TWO BROTHERS, BRENN,
AND BELINE, AT THE INTERCESSION OF THEIR MOTHER, CONUVENNA.
DARE to name ye sons, because I am your mother, yet I doubt to term you brothers that do brotherhood forget. These prodigies, their wrothful shields, forbodden foe to foe, Do ill beseem allied hands, even yours 0, how seem Oedipus his sons in you again to strive? How seem these swords in me (aye me) Jocasta to revive? I would Dunwallo lived, or ere death, had lost again His monarchy, sufficing fewer, but now too small for twain. Then either would you, as did he, employ your wounds else
where, Or, for the smallness of your power, agree at least for fear. But pride of rich and roomsome thrones, that wingeth now
your darts, It will (I would not as I fear) work sorrow to your
hearts. My sons, sweet sons, attend my words, your mother's words
attend, And for I am your mother, do conclude I am your
friend: I cannot counsel, but entreat, nor yet I can entreat But as a woman, and the same whose blood was once your
meat: Hence had ye milk (she bar'd her paps) these arms did hug
These filed hands did wipe, did wrap, did rock, and lay ye
These lips did kiss, or eyes
did weep, if that ye were unqu'et Then ply I did, with song, or sighs, with dance, with tongue
or teat: For these kind causes, dear my sons, disarm yourselves : if
not, Then for these bitter tears that now your mother's cheeks
Oft urge I son's and mother's names, names not to be forgot. Send hence these soldiers: ye, my sons, and none but ye
should fight: When none should rather be as one, if nature had her right. What comfort, Belineł shall I speed? sweet Brenn, shall I
prevail ? Say yea, sweet youths, ah yea, say yea: or if I needs must
fail, Say no: and then will I begin your battle with my bail, Then, then some stranger, not my sons, shall close me in the
earth When we by armour oversoon shall meet, I fear, in death.'
This said, with gushing tears eftsoons she plies the one and
Till both did show themselves at length sons worthy such a
mother; And with those hands, those alter'd hands, that lately threat
ned blows, They did embrace: becoming thus continual friends of foes.
Albion's England, by W. Warner,
B. III. Chap. xvi.