 | The Dawn in Britain |  |
Duneda dreams, this night, he drave in chariot,
Whereas none stable soil; and none there was
Abode of any wight, nor grass nor woods:
But seemed his winged cart, on thick skies, to move;
And under him, was immense sound of waves!
Duneda called, then, on his saviour god;
But turned the day to murk, and sun was not.
He called on moon and stars; but they are hid:
Beheld then one; that fares, with him, in chariot;
Whose countenance like some of the blesséd gods;
And like that stranger Joseph. Lightning the heavens,
He cannot rule his team; that swerve aside.
Whereas none stable soil; and none there was
Abode of any wight, nor grass nor woods:
But seemed his winged cart, on thick skies, to move;
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Duneda called, then, on his saviour god;
But turned the day to murk, and sun was not.
He called on moon and stars; but they are hid:
Beheld then one; that fares, with him, in chariot;
Whose countenance like some of the blesséd gods;
And like that stranger Joseph. Lightning the heavens,
He cannot rule his team; that swerve aside.
Then king Duneda, cedes the reins, to him;
Who guides, by higher path, the royal steeds,
Full of disbodied spirits; which fly, from the earth,
Seeking themselves some starry new abodes:
Mongst whom, on mountain spire, sith, they hold fast.
Thence, like to rushing wind, dismount his steeds.
But Joseph putting, on his hands, his hands;
He skilled, by slow degrees, to rule them right.
Sith he beheld, dim Mona, end of land,
Beneath him; from whose cliffs, his team did leap,
Into a further isle. Duneda awakes;
And, lo, the sun upmounts: and knew the king,
This dream of sleep, him sent his father's gods.
So rose; and saie hastes, of fine lawn, do on,
Over his tunic, hemmed with needlework,
Of line; and girt to him, with royal belt.
Sith soles, the hammered hide, of a wild ox,
Bound on his feet; with buskins of the spoil
Of mountain broc. Then, took he, from the wall,
A polisht spear; so went the hero forth,
To sit in Isca's morning audience;
Before the Britons, in their market place.
Who guides, by higher path, the royal steeds,
Full of disbodied spirits; which fly, from the earth,
Seeking themselves some starry new abodes:
Mongst whom, on mountain spire, sith, they hold fast.
Thence, like to rushing wind, dismount his steeds.
But Joseph putting, on his hands, his hands;
He skilled, by slow degrees, to rule them right.
Sith he beheld, dim Mona, end of land,
Beneath him; from whose cliffs, his team did leap,
Into a further isle. Duneda awakes;
And, lo, the sun upmounts: and knew the king,
This dream of sleep, him sent his father's gods.
So rose; and saie hastes, of fine lawn, do on,
Over his tunic, hemmed with needlework,
Of line; and girt to him, with royal belt.
Sith soles, the hammered hide, of a wild ox,
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Of mountain broc. Then, took he, from the wall,
A polisht spear; so went the hero forth,
To sit in Isca's morning audience;
Before the Britons, in their market place.
| The Dawn in Britain | |