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In the marsh he will not slacken,

On the plain be overtaken;

In the wave he will not sink,

Nor pause at the brook’s side to drink;

In the race he will not pant,

In the combat he’ll not faint;

On the stones he will not stumble,

Time nor toil shall make him humble;

In the stall he will not stiffen ,

But be winged as a Griffin ,

Only flying with his feet:

And will not such a voyage be sweet?Merrily! merrily! never unsound,

Shall our bonny black horses skim over theground !

From the Alps to the Caucasus, ride we, or fly!For we’ll leave them behind in the glance ofan eye.

[ They mount their horses , and disappear.

SCENE II.

A Camp before the Walls of Rome.

Arnold and Ccesar.Ccesar .

You are well entered now.