The Dawn in Britain by Charles M. Doughty |
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| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. | BOOK XI |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
 | The Dawn in Britain |  |
119
BOOK XI
120
ARGUMENT
Caratacus and Dumnoveros journey to Britain. In the long way, Embla is betrothed to prince Caratacus. They passed the narrow seas, come to king Cunobelin, in Verulam. Caratacus makes known, to his father, the ill success of their Roman embassage, and Adminius' death: and how Cæsar's legions will now invade Britain. Cunobelin and Dumnoveros are made friends. Marriage of Embla and prince Caratacus. Cunobelin sends his heralds, to kings of South Britons; calling them, to solemn sacrifice and parliament, in the Sun's Plain. A grievous pestilence is, in Verulam.
Cunobelin journeys, to precinct of the Sun, and that god's great temple of the Hanging-stones. Carvilios chants to the there assembled Britons. Story of Gaulish ship-king Divicos; who vows himself, before the gathered Britons, to death, for destruction of the Romans. Captive Roman legionaries contend, with a like number of chosen young warriors, of South Britons. Aged king Cunobelin deposes the warlord's belt. Caratacus, yet pale from sickness, now arrives. Dumnoveros girds prince Togodumnos, with the warlord's belt. Cunobelin's last behests. Tiding of that king's death. Deceased, in his journey, he is borne to Verulam. Togodumnos and Caratacus divide their father's kingdom. An old war-ban, from days of Cassiobellan.
Caratacus and Embla ride to Camulodunum. An Almain pirate-fleet is lying in the town-hythe. The pirate shiplords, men of insolent carriage, drink in the king's hall.
121
Volisios assembles parliament of North Britons' kings. Velaunos is chosen, to lead their warfare, against the Romans.
Carvilios cometh to Mona. Priests of the temple-cave, in vain, persuade him, that he should not pass to Erinn. The Gaulish bard embarks, with two disciples, in a wattled skiff. Wafted of the wind, they touch, the third morrow, to the Sacred Island's shore. Salvage guardians of that coast, bind him, at the sea-brinks; and hale to doom-hill, whereon sits the land's king, Palador. Maelunni, that lord's high druid. Carvilios speaks of the nigh coming of invading legions; and chants an hymn of the sun-god. Palador gives beasts, to sacrifice, for ransom of the strangers' blood. He, himself, leads them to his royal hall.
Manannan, master of traffic, man half-divine, repairs to Britain. His far voyages, great bounty and passing riches. Caratacus parts forth, with Manannan, in chariot; to visit all the kings of South Britons.
122
At day, sent an apparitor, the consuls,
Indict; from City of Rome, Caratacus,
Legate, son to Cunobelin, Lord of Britain;
Depart, within days three; and, without tarrying,
From Italy pass; for he hath slain a Roman!
Indict; from City of Rome, Caratacus,
Legate, son to Cunobelin, Lord of Britain;
Depart, within days three; and, without tarrying,
From Italy pass; for he hath slain a Roman!
Night fallen, went Caradoc forth, the Prince of Britain,
From Roma's Viminal gate, with lords of Verulam:
Where, as, betwixt them both, accorded was;
Him Dumnoveros meets, from other part,
With Embla and Cantion women. Nigh that place,
Is to the college of Rome's Fetial priests.
They, in hired covered carpents, thence, set forth:
So journey on together, all that night;
And see, no more, great Rome, when morrow breaks!
From Roma's Viminal gate, with lords of Verulam:
Where, as, betwixt them both, accorded was;
Him Dumnoveros meets, from other part,
With Embla and Cantion women. Nigh that place,
Is to the college of Rome's Fetial priests.
They, in hired covered carpents, thence, set forth:
So journey on together, all that night;
And see, no more, great Rome, when morrow breaks!
Henceforth, by long paved way, Flaminian,
That noble Britain-company forthride,
In fellowship; and is daily more increased,
The lovely bond, twixt Caradoc and bright Embla.
That noble Britain-company forthride,
123
The lovely bond, twixt Caradoc and bright Embla.
Then gins devise, in heart, Caratacus;
Prefer the antique right of Dumnoveros,
Before Cunobelin, to the isles of Cantion.
And each part should forgive all injuries,
Forepast: so were Kent's isles, after his day,
His daughter's dower. To him, her father dear,
Those lords assenting hath, now, promised her.
And gage prince Caradoc is, for Dumnoveros;
When they shall have arrived, again, in Britain.
Prefer the antique right of Dumnoveros,
Before Cunobelin, to the isles of Cantion.
And each part should forgive all injuries,
Forepast: so were Kent's isles, after his day,
His daughter's dower. To him, her father dear,
Those lords assenting hath, now, promised her.
And gage prince Caradoc is, for Dumnoveros;
When they shall have arrived, again, in Britain.
With good adventure, they, o'er mighty Alps,
Now passed, their journey hold forth, through Main Gaul:
Till last, they, come down to that Ictian port;
Discern, thence, long white loom of Cantion's cliffs.
And found there ship of Kent, ready to pass;
They mount her board. So, having prosperous voyage,
The same day they, to Rutupiæ, arrive;
Where a glad people welcome Caradoc.
Now passed, their journey hold forth, through Main Gaul:
Till last, they, come down to that Ictian port;
Discern, thence, long white loom of Cantion's cliffs.
And found there ship of Kent, ready to pass;
They mount her board. So, having prosperous voyage,
The same day they, to Rutupiæ, arrive;
Where a glad people welcome Caradoc.
Thence Cantion's noble youth, in vestures white,
Them bring forth, on their way, with pomp of chariots;
Wherein his mastery every one would show,
On rushing wheels, in gentle Embla's view:
So she is fair, like goddess heavenly bright.
Now, at Durovern-on-Stour, they bridle draw,
Old city of Cloten and of gentle Esla.
Where grassy mound, to-day, their tomb, is seen.
Next sun, they, tardy, arrive at Verulamion:
And find, the warlike sire Cunobelin,
Hath, long, lain bedrid, sick, in heavy age.
Them bring forth, on their way, with pomp of chariots;
Wherein his mastery every one would show,
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So she is fair, like goddess heavenly bright.
Now, at Durovern-on-Stour, they bridle draw,
Old city of Cloten and of gentle Esla.
Where grassy mound, to-day, their tomb, is seen.
Next sun, they, tardy, arrive at Verulamion:
And find, the warlike sire Cunobelin,
Hath, long, lain bedrid, sick, in heavy age.
Being falsely noised, of late, the great king's death;
Were stirs and tumults, mongst all subject tribes,
Whose kings are, namely, of old hostile house,
Of Commius; whence, with power of Catuvelaunians,
Was, from Caer Verulam, yester, issued forth,
With rushing chariots, royal Togodumnos.
Were stirs and tumults, mongst all subject tribes,
Whose kings are, namely, of old hostile house,
Of Commius; whence, with power of Catuvelaunians,
Was, from Caer Verulam, yester, issued forth,
With rushing chariots, royal Togodumnos.
Kevin and Iddon, with Caratacus;
(Returned now home, from Roman embassage,)
Enter before the king, that, on his bed,
On pillows, sits upstayed. The sire, they greet;
And, kneeling, kissed his father, Caradoc.
Then they rehearse, at large, their ill success;
And namely that proud answer of the Senate!
(Returned now home, from Roman embassage,)
Enter before the king, that, on his bed,
On pillows, sits upstayed. The sire, they greet;
And, kneeling, kissed his father, Caradoc.
Then they rehearse, at large, their ill success;
And namely that proud answer of the Senate!
And, after this, restores Caratacus
His signet royal, unto king Cunobelin;
And shows, with troubled voice, Adminius' death.
This Tuscan urn, which halting Kevin bears,
Under his cloak, his cinders doth enclose.
Lo, wounden, on the lid, his tawny locks,
Cut-off, in Rome. The warlike, agéd, sire,
Moaned, at that sight; and, trembling, on his bed,
Fell back, dismayed. Was longtime Red Adminius,
His only son; for Guenthia, royal spouse,
Was barren certain years. Recovering breath,
The sire him bowed, those yore-loved yellow locks,
As, yet, sheen head were of his little son!
Once more, to kiss. Sate up then king Cunobelin,
And, in his palsied hands, that urn receiving,
Pronounced, devout, the lord of royal Verulam,
(To witness, called his Catuvelaunian gods!)
A father's last forgiveness of all wrongs.
His signet royal, unto king Cunobelin;
And shows, with troubled voice, Adminius' death.
This Tuscan urn, which halting Kevin bears,
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Lo, wounden, on the lid, his tawny locks,
Cut-off, in Rome. The warlike, agéd, sire,
Moaned, at that sight; and, trembling, on his bed,
Fell back, dismayed. Was longtime Red Adminius,
His only son; for Guenthia, royal spouse,
Was barren certain years. Recovering breath,
The sire him bowed, those yore-loved yellow locks,
As, yet, sheen head were of his little son!
Once more, to kiss. Sate up then king Cunobelin,
And, in his palsied hands, that urn receiving,
Pronounced, devout, the lord of royal Verulam,
(To witness, called his Catuvelaunian gods!)
A father's last forgiveness of all wrongs.
He sent, then, for chief Catuvelaunian druid,
Mempricios; who, come in, before Cunobelin,
Clad in blue amice, like the Summer heaven;
With groans, the king commands him sacrifice,
At morrow's eve, for dead Adminius,
Swart beves, one for each year of his son's age;
And be there, supplication, in Ver's mead;
Where all should eat, to memory of the dead.
Mempricios; who, come in, before Cunobelin,
Clad in blue amice, like the Summer heaven;
With groans, the king commands him sacrifice,
At morrow's eve, for dead Adminius,
Swart beves, one for each year of his son's age;
And be there, supplication, in Ver's mead;
Where all should eat, to memory of the dead.
Companions of Cunobelin, in old wars,
Of Catuvelaunians, with their neighbour tribes,
Then commune, with the king, Kevin and Iddon.
They tell; how, longtime sojourning, in great Roma,
They might not come, to Cæsar's audience.
Last menaced them the consuls; and their threat
Is, Rome will send her legions into Britain!
Of Catuvelaunians, with their neighbour tribes,
Then commune, with the king, Kevin and Iddon.
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They might not come, to Cæsar's audience.
Last menaced them the consuls; and their threat
Is, Rome will send her legions into Britain!
And how much sickness was, in Rome; in days,
When they arrived, of the hot summer star:
And taken, with a fever, was Adminius.
And, in what night he passed; they, nigh his house,
Heard sounding women's cries, in a dim street,
In Britons' tongue: whither, they, running, found,
Women, of their own speech; that wept, beset,
Of Roman young men, in their wantonness.
And how them Caradoc succoured; whose strong hand
Slew one or twain, to ground; wherefore denounced
The consuls, they should part, anon, from Rome.
When they arrived, of the hot summer star:
And taken, with a fever, was Adminius.
And, in what night he passed; they, nigh his house,
Heard sounding women's cries, in a dim street,
In Britons' tongue: whither, they, running, found,
Women, of their own speech; that wept, beset,
Of Roman young men, in their wantonness.
And how them Caradoc succoured; whose strong hand
Slew one or twain, to ground; wherefore denounced
The consuls, they should part, anon, from Rome.
And, newly, was come forth, from Cæsar's palace,
That noble Briton virgin, which was saved.
And how she washed and salved, they tell, and bound,
Prince Caradoc's wound. Moreover they record
Words of Adminius, how, that dying son,
Message of peace, to king Cunobelin,
His father, sent. They, also, Dumnoveros,
Found, well affectioned, towards this royal house.
That noble Briton virgin, which was saved.
And how she washed and salved, they tell, and bound,
Prince Caradoc's wound. Moreover they record
Words of Adminius, how, that dying son,
Message of peace, to king Cunobelin,
His father, sent. They, also, Dumnoveros,
Found, well affectioned, towards this royal house.
But, when were those went forth; speaks Caradoc,
Privily, in his father's ear, of Dumnoveros:
Was, Dumnoveros, with them in their voyage;
And how his daughter is that noble maid.
And of the dear accord made, twixt them both.
And how his soul loves Embla, above all being.
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Was, Dumnoveros, with them in their voyage;
And how his daughter is that noble maid.
And of the dear accord made, twixt them both.
And how his soul loves Embla, above all being.
And, still, made Caradoc semblant, as that were,
Those lingered yet in Gaul. Cease Caradoc's lips
Then speak; for yearns, within him, brother's heart,
Speed, with armed band, and war-team and scythechariot,
To field, anon; in aid of Togodumnos!
Those lingered yet in Gaul. Cease Caradoc's lips
Then speak; for yearns, within him, brother's heart,
Speed, with armed band, and war-team and scythechariot,
To field, anon; in aid of Togodumnos!
But comes, with rushing steeds, lo, early, at morrow,
That prince again; in their sire's bronze-axed scythecart.
Follow his army, afoot, more slowly on.
Hath, noble bard, (Cunobelin's guest,) Carvilios,
Riding, from tribe to tribe, twixt hostile camps,
Prevailed, with Briton lords, for Britain's peace:
All, now, shall turn their hostile arms, gainst Rome.
Omens announce nigh coming of the legions.
That prince again; in their sire's bronze-axed scythecart.
Follow his army, afoot, more slowly on.
Hath, noble bard, (Cunobelin's guest,) Carvilios,
Riding, from tribe to tribe, twixt hostile camps,
Prevailed, with Briton lords, for Britain's peace:
All, now, shall turn their hostile arms, gainst Rome.
Omens announce nigh coming of the legions.
How joys each prince, then, see his brother's face!
Caradoc sith Togodumnos draws apart;
To tell him his heart's hope. The elder went
In, to their father, prays, even for his sake,
Restore the Cantion isles to Dumnoveros.
And well it were, all breaches to be healed,
Amongst the tribes, ere coming of Rome's legions.
Should not strong aid send well-affectioned Kent,
Of thousand matchless scythe-wheel chariots?
Caradoc sith Togodumnos draws apart;
To tell him his heart's hope. The elder went
In, to their father, prays, even for his sake,
Restore the Cantion isles to Dumnoveros.
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Amongst the tribes, ere coming of Rome's legions.
Should not strong aid send well-affectioned Kent,
Of thousand matchless scythe-wheel chariots?
The like, Gaul's noble bard persuades, Carvilios;
With words, which on his tongue, inspire the gods.
Cunobelin grants, that would, before his death,
See stablished, his loved son, Caratacus:
Alwere, is, from old days, in his heart, left,
A little wrath, gainst Cantion Dumnoveros!
With words, which on his tongue, inspire the gods.
Cunobelin grants, that would, before his death,
See stablished, his loved son, Caratacus:
Alwere, is, from old days, in his heart, left,
A little wrath, gainst Cantion Dumnoveros!
Bring-in then the king's sons, as newly arrived
Wayfaring guests, that king and royal maid.
That those are noble, under simple weed,
Their very countenance showeth. Before Cunobelin,
Father of her loved prince, Caratacus,
Lo, Embla kneels, those kingly hands, to kiss.
But that stern lord, when he beheld her face,
So like the hew of Guenthia, his spouse-love,
Deceased; and whose chaste womb did bear his sons,
Loved Caradoc, and, ere, martial Togodumnos;
Being inly moved, covered with his two palms,
Awhile, his brows! then, stooping, kissed her cheeks.
He greets, sith, Trinobantine Dumnoveros;
Whose long constraint, even in his enemy's court,
Now ended is. Ends sadness in all hearts;
And each looks, gladly, upon the other's face!
Wayfaring guests, that king and royal maid.
That those are noble, under simple weed,
Their very countenance showeth. Before Cunobelin,
Father of her loved prince, Caratacus,
Lo, Embla kneels, those kingly hands, to kiss.
But that stern lord, when he beheld her face,
So like the hew of Guenthia, his spouse-love,
Deceased; and whose chaste womb did bear his sons,
Loved Caradoc, and, ere, martial Togodumnos;
Being inly moved, covered with his two palms,
Awhile, his brows! then, stooping, kissed her cheeks.
He greets, sith, Trinobantine Dumnoveros;
Whose long constraint, even in his enemy's court,
129
And each looks, gladly, upon the other's face!
Come the twelfth night of the new moon, from this,
In Catuvelaunian royal Verulamion;
Prince Caradoc, son of great Cunobelin,
And Embla of Dumnoveros were made one;
With gladness of all hearts and bridal feast:
And all the people, dancing in her streets,
Whose brows, with guirlands deckt, them loudly bless.
Pomp of his men-of-war, leads Togodumnos,
With blowing joyful trumps and martial shows.
The warlike bard of Gaul, Carvilios, chants,
His forehead crowned with holy misselden,
Whose leaves, (the old king's gift,) of beaten gold,
The berries are fair pearls of Island Britain;
(Gracing their bridal, sleeps his sterner note,)
Lays of sweet love, to-night, in the king's hall.
And seemed his words, (heard mongst cups of sweet mead;)
That fall, on listful ears, a chain of gold.
In Catuvelaunian royal Verulamion;
Prince Caradoc, son of great Cunobelin,
And Embla of Dumnoveros were made one;
With gladness of all hearts and bridal feast:
And all the people, dancing in her streets,
Whose brows, with guirlands deckt, them loudly bless.
Pomp of his men-of-war, leads Togodumnos,
With blowing joyful trumps and martial shows.
The warlike bard of Gaul, Carvilios, chants,
His forehead crowned with holy misselden,
Whose leaves, (the old king's gift,) of beaten gold,
The berries are fair pearls of Island Britain;
(Gracing their bridal, sleeps his sterner note,)
Lays of sweet love, to-night, in the king's hall.
And seemed his words, (heard mongst cups of sweet mead;)
That fall, on listful ears, a chain of gold.
But danger instant of the Roman arms,
Cunobelin, Lord of Britain, in swift chariots,
His heralds sends, to all kings of South Britons;
Bidding, to temple of the hanging-stones,
That stands, midst Belin's plain, lord of the Sun,
To sacrifice and common parliament.
Cunobelin, Lord of Britain, in swift chariots,
His heralds sends, to all kings of South Britons;
Bidding, to temple of the hanging-stones,
130
To sacrifice and common parliament.
In Cassiobellan's Verulam, after this,
Was grievous sickness; and soon sore increased.
Then heard oft funeral wailing, in her streets:
Dies flower of valiant youth, were like have done
Proud deeds, in war with Rome. That ill on prince,
Now heavy lies, beloved Caratacus;
(Druids it ween, infection brought from Rome;
Derne whisper runs, in Red Adminius' locks!)
By him, the beauty of Embla wakes and weeps;
And watches, with her, martial Togodumnos.
Then made Cunobelin solemn sacrifice,
For his loved son; and Caradoc revives.
Was grievous sickness; and soon sore increased.
Then heard oft funeral wailing, in her streets:
Dies flower of valiant youth, were like have done
Proud deeds, in war with Rome. That ill on prince,
Now heavy lies, beloved Caratacus;
(Druids it ween, infection brought from Rome;
Derne whisper runs, in Red Adminius' locks!)
By him, the beauty of Embla wakes and weeps;
And watches, with her, martial Togodumnos.
Then made Cunobelin solemn sacrifice,
For his loved son; and Caradoc revives.
But come day, when Cunobelin, lord of Britons,
Established had, to set forth, from Caer Verulam;
In wicker litter, is the sire, infirm,
Borne, on men's shoulders, towards the sacred plain;
With a great pomp of chariots, slow, ensuing;
Wherein ride lords, chief magistrates and high druids.
They journey: and his shield-bearer the king's arms,
And dragon-targe, lo, in the royal scythe-cart,
Upholds. They lodge, next eve, nigh where fenced dune,
Calleva,
on yonder woody hill, is seen,
City of the Guledig, swart Segontorix;
Who, mongst all Belges' kings, most war-renowned,
Which nephews are, to antique Commius.
Rides forth, salute them, king Segontorix,
And sheep he sends, to the king's camp and beves;
And mead and bread: for, midst his sacred voyage,
Cunobelin were not lawful, lodge in walls.
Established had, to set forth, from Caer Verulam;
In wicker litter, is the sire, infirm,
Borne, on men's shoulders, towards the sacred plain;
With a great pomp of chariots, slow, ensuing;
Wherein ride lords, chief magistrates and high druids.
They journey: and his shield-bearer the king's arms,
And dragon-targe, lo, in the royal scythe-cart,
Upholds. They lodge, next eve, nigh where fenced dune,
131
City of the Guledig, swart Segontorix;
Who, mongst all Belges' kings, most war-renowned,
Which nephews are, to antique Commius.
Rides forth, salute them, king Segontorix,
And sheep he sends, to the king's camp and beves;
And mead and bread: for, midst his sacred voyage,
Cunobelin were not lawful, lodge in walls.
Thence marched; they, three days, journey and now approach,
In that wide plain, to precinct of the sun,
Where great choired temple of the hanging-stones;
Which, fame is, giants had poised to the day's god;
Mongst grave-hills, where dead nations lie around.
They find Duneda, and lords of the West tribes,
Already arrived; with whom much people and druids
Assembled: mongst whom, on tall Gaulish steed,
Carvilios sits. To him, with listful ears,
All throng. He cunning hand, to dreaming crowth,
Applies; and lifts, to heaven, great clarion-voice.
In that wide plain, to precinct of the sun,
Where great choired temple of the hanging-stones;
Which, fame is, giants had poised to the day's god;
Mongst grave-hills, where dead nations lie around.
They find Duneda, and lords of the West tribes,
Already arrived; with whom much people and druids
Assembled: mongst whom, on tall Gaulish steed,
Carvilios sits. To him, with listful ears,
All throng. He cunning hand, to dreaming crowth,
Applies; and lifts, to heaven, great clarion-voice.
From throng to throng, Gaul's noble vates chants,
And Britons follow him, from how to how,
Like sheep-flocks. He them coming of Rome's legions,
Foreshows: and how more in malicious arts,
Than manly valiance, lies proud Romans' force;
Men hewed like thralls. Plate-clad, the legionaries
Sally, stand fast, keeping, aye, even ranks;
At one man's word; or launch forth sleet of darts:
Whose hauberks bronze, and sallets on their heads;
That Gaulish glaive and spear, might hardly pierce,
Nor their thick battle-ranks, the scattered brunt
May break, of naked warriors, though more valorous.
And Britons follow him, from how to how,
Like sheep-flocks. He them coming of Rome's legions,
Foreshows: and how more in malicious arts,
132
Men hewed like thralls. Plate-clad, the legionaries
Sally, stand fast, keeping, aye, even ranks;
At one man's word; or launch forth sleet of darts:
Whose hauberks bronze, and sallets on their heads;
That Gaulish glaive and spear, might hardly pierce,
Nor their thick battle-ranks, the scattered brunt
May break, of naked warriors, though more valorous.
At morrow, arrived Armoric Divicos,
One who is called a king of Summer ships.
Pirates, those wont reave, on some Roman coast,
Steeds; whereon mounting-forth, they harry and burn.
His winter wonne is with free kings of Almaigne,
Beyond the flood of Rhine. Five captains, Divicos,
(This Gaul,) hath slain, with his right hand, of Rome;
Not without scars seen on his hardy face.
One who is called a king of Summer ships.
Pirates, those wont reave, on some Roman coast,
Steeds; whereon mounting-forth, they harry and burn.
His winter wonne is with free kings of Almaigne,
Beyond the flood of Rhine. Five captains, Divicos,
(This Gaul,) hath slain, with his right hand, of Rome;
Not without scars seen on his hardy face.
Being lately, in stress of storm, come Divicos in,
With ships, to a South haven, in Island Britain,
He heard; how parliament, warlord king Cunobelin,
Had called, of all South tribes, in Belin's plain:
Whose lords convene there, to consult, with him;
And that, concerning Rome's invading threat.
With guides, rode Divicos, thither, then; and leads
Twelve bounden captives, that were Roman soldiers,
Taken in a longship, with their arms and harness.
With ships, to a South haven, in Island Britain,
He heard; how parliament, warlord king Cunobelin,
133
Whose lords convene there, to consult, with him;
And that, concerning Rome's invading threat.
With guides, rode Divicos, thither, then; and leads
Twelve bounden captives, that were Roman soldiers,
Taken in a longship, with their arms and harness.
On startling Gaulish steed, borne in his vessel,
Stern Divicos rides. Before the temple-gates,
He, lighting, joins hands with the Briton kings.
Hang, griesly, at Divicos' saddle-bow, five polls,
Namely of those captains he had slain of Romans;
Pitched visages, that have silver scales, for eyes;
And on whose grinning teeth, spread leaf of gold.
Stern Divicos mounts, again; and all men marvelling,
He a green mound ascends. Thence, with main voice,
That seemed of battle-trumpet's throat, he cries;
Britons, when I behold your warlike face,
Methinks, ye should, full well, contend with Romans!
Stern Divicos rides. Before the temple-gates,
He, lighting, joins hands with the Briton kings.
Hang, griesly, at Divicos' saddle-bow, five polls,
Namely of those captains he had slain of Romans;
Pitched visages, that have silver scales, for eyes;
And on whose grinning teeth, spread leaf of gold.
Stern Divicos mounts, again; and all men marvelling,
He a green mound ascends. Thence, with main voice,
That seemed of battle-trumpet's throat, he cries;
Britons, when I behold your warlike face,
Methinks, ye should, full well, contend with Romans!
Was Divicos of Armoric royal house:
But fallen in an outlawry, his lordship lost,
Captain of desperate men, he dwelled in woods;
Till day, his wife and child, by some of his,
For numbered silver, were betrayed to Romans.
He hardly himself pursued, by marsh and heath,
Had 'scaped, by only fleetness of his horse.
But fallen in an outlawry, his lordship lost,
Captain of desperate men, he dwelled in woods;
Till day, his wife and child, by some of his,
For numbered silver, were betrayed to Romans.
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Had 'scaped, by only fleetness of his horse.
Bethought him Divicos, then, take some chief Roman;
Whose life should ransom home his wife and son.
But, with forged words, came certain messengers,
To him, as from the Roman magistrate,
Granting, laid down his arms, he should have peace.
Let him come in; and on Mars' altars, swear
Fealty to Rome, and promise to pay tribute.
But an eavesdropper of the Romans' talk,
Old client of his house, warned Divicos,
Of their intent, him secretly to slay.
Whose life should ransom home his wife and son.
But, with forged words, came certain messengers,
To him, as from the Roman magistrate,
Granting, laid down his arms, he should have peace.
Let him come in; and on Mars' altars, swear
Fealty to Rome, and promise to pay tribute.
But an eavesdropper of the Romans' talk,
Old client of his house, warned Divicos,
Of their intent, him secretly to slay.
By covert night, he went to soldiers' camp,
With one young warrior, kinsman of his wife,
And bearing, neath their mantles, secret glaives.
They then, the wall o'erleapt, surprise and slay
The Roman watch; without or noise or ruth!
And, sith, he finds her, which was his loved wife.
But, ah, with deadness, now, she him receives!
Tears hang, in her pure eyes, as icicles.
Is empty of joy, her faithful breast, henceforth.
She, with a whispered wailing, him reveals,
The rapine of her beauty. Their young son,
Wrestling to save her, Romans' thrice-cursed captain,
Caused, to be scourged with rods. The noble child,
Yester, in anguish of his soul, is dead.
Low, in dark prison-vault, he murdered lies.
With one young warrior, kinsman of his wife,
And bearing, neath their mantles, secret glaives.
They then, the wall o'erleapt, surprise and slay
The Roman watch; without or noise or ruth!
And, sith, he finds her, which was his loved wife.
But, ah, with deadness, now, she him receives!
Tears hang, in her pure eyes, as icicles.
Is empty of joy, her faithful breast, henceforth.
She, with a whispered wailing, him reveals,
The rapine of her beauty. Their young son,
Wrestling to save her, Romans' thrice-cursed captain,
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Yester, in anguish of his soul, is dead.
Low, in dark prison-vault, he murdered lies.
The ravisher's pavilion, her white hand,
Sad, shows, from thence unfar, in clear moonlight.
Then, thrice, she adjures him, by Gauls' deathless gods!
Draw now his glaive, and slay her wrongéd flesh,
Were but in reverence of her father's house;
Whence was she, issued to him, a clean maid.
Ah, when in greenwood and uncertain place,
They dwelled together, more that goodly child
Was, to them both, than land and lordship lost.
Sad, shows, from thence unfar, in clear moonlight.
Then, thrice, she adjures him, by Gauls' deathless gods!
Draw now his glaive, and slay her wrongéd flesh,
Were but in reverence of her father's house;
Whence was she, issued to him, a clean maid.
Ah, when in greenwood and uncertain place,
They dwelled together, more that goodly child
Was, to them both, than land and lordship lost.
How, sleep the gods! Why heard they not the voice,
Of that true wife? Creeps nightmare, in his blood!
Sudden, snatcht her white hand skean of his glaive;
She, ah, smote herself, riving her constant breast!
So whispered, faint; I, once more, may thee kiss!
Of that true wife? Creeps nightmare, in his blood!
Sudden, snatcht her white hand skean of his glaive;
She, ah, smote herself, riving her constant breast!
So whispered, faint; I, once more, may thee kiss!
He turned; and, groaning, pluckt the crude steel forth!
He lulled the dying, in his arms, and oft
Vowed Divicos last destruction of proud Romans.
He, as beside his mind, kissed her pale lips:
He kissed a corse; for she is, now, a corse!
Then, as one mad, laid from him her warm flesh,
He, with his mantle, covered his dead spouse.
So went forth, with fell heart, stout Divicos.
He lulled the dying, in his arms, and oft
Vowed Divicos last destruction of proud Romans.
He, as beside his mind, kissed her pale lips:
He kissed a corse; for she is, now, a corse!
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He, with his mantle, covered his dead spouse.
So went forth, with fell heart, stout Divicos.
Lynx-like creeps he: the lecher's curtain draws!
On purple sleeps, lo, Rome's foul magistrate!
By whom, is dead and outraged his loved wife;
His crime hath made them, ever, childless both!
Dim burns Etruscan lamp. Him seems, in dream
Of lust, this lies, and wine. Him Divicos caught,
By the throat-bole, anon; and slew with knife,
Whereby his innocent died, that impious!
And sunk, to hell, his ever-damned ghost.
On purple sleeps, lo, Rome's foul magistrate!
By whom, is dead and outraged his loved wife;
His crime hath made them, ever, childless both!
Dim burns Etruscan lamp. Him seems, in dream
Of lust, this lies, and wine. Him Divicos caught,
By the throat-bole, anon; and slew with knife,
Whereby his innocent died, that impious!
And sunk, to hell, his ever-damned ghost.
Hackt the tent's cords, they course through Romans' camp;
Firing, with embers of his smouldering hearth,
Then, halm-thatcht cabans of, now slumbering, soldiers.
Returned, soon, with new thought, sad Divicos,
He took, upon his shoulders, his wife's corse.
And that young warrior, made, of Roman targe,
Breastwork; before him, goeth, with long drawn glaive.
So, ere yet day, they wan forth, to green wood.
There, Divicos, mourning, digged his dead wife's grave;
Whence, parting, he passed Rhine, to freeborn Almains.
Firing, with embers of his smouldering hearth,
Then, halm-thatcht cabans of, now slumbering, soldiers.
Returned, soon, with new thought, sad Divicos,
He took, upon his shoulders, his wife's corse.
And that young warrior, made, of Roman targe,
Breastwork; before him, goeth, with long drawn glaive.
So, ere yet day, they wan forth, to green wood.
There, Divicos, mourning, digged his dead wife's grave;
Whence, parting, he passed Rhine, to freeborn Almains.
To hear that noble Gaul, flock press of Britons.
He cries then, Brothers, of this soil of Brennus!
Swear, by yond august temple of the Sun,
This foster-soil, which gave your sires Gaul's gods,
Defend, from the base servitude to Romans!
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Swear, by yond august temple of the Sun,
This foster-soil, which gave your sires Gaul's gods,
Defend, from the base servitude to Romans!
When ye, in Britain, have repulsed Rome's legions;
Your, brethren, in Main Gaul, will slay all Romans.
Then warlike nations, that beyond Rhine dwell,
Shall risen with us, in arms, send their young swarms.
Your, brethren, in Main Gaul, will slay all Romans.
Then warlike nations, that beyond Rhine dwell,
Shall risen with us, in arms, send their young swarms.
Divicos looked forth! and a foreseeing spirit,
(Which shines, oftwhiles, in men's eyes toward their deaths;)
Him shows! and Divicos spake, with hollow voice;
How main and island Gauls' new mingled armies,
Leading them Brennid dukes, like the war-gods;
And, with them, Heremod's Almains, mighty Alps,
Should pass, again, to purge the world of Rome!
From fields, beyond, their scornful tread should march;
Fields where lie legions, by them, battle-slain.
In pledge whereof, men of this soil of Brennus,
Trample now underfoot, these jowls of Romans.
(Which shines, oftwhiles, in men's eyes toward their deaths;)
Him shows! and Divicos spake, with hollow voice;
How main and island Gauls' new mingled armies,
Leading them Brennid dukes, like the war-gods;
And, with them, Heremod's Almains, mighty Alps,
Should pass, again, to purge the world of Rome!
From fields, beyond, their scornful tread should march;
Fields where lie legions, by them, battle-slain.
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Trample now underfoot, these jowls of Romans.
He said; and, with loud battle-cry; he hurled
Them, from his saddle-bow, down-forth! on green grass:
Which Britons, with loud mocking chant, receiving,
Spurn with swift feet, thick reeling multitude!
Them, from his saddle-bow, down-forth! on green grass:
Which Britons, with loud mocking chant, receiving,
Spurn with swift feet, thick reeling multitude!
But he, on whom come fury of Gauls' war-gods,
The scaly bronze pluckt, from his hardy breast,
Whereas shine glorious scars, as one possessed,
Now direful, looks, with eyeballs staring, strange:
Hark, then, with swelling voice, he vows his blood!
To Island Britain's high safe-guarding gods:
With prayer, they smite thus Roman enemies!
This said, drawn Divicos skean of his broad glaive,
(Shines in the sun!) he it thrust, ah, in his bowels.
And fell that hero, from his tall horse, forth.
He wallows, dying, on the trampled grass;
To green mound's foot! so gave, with groan, the ghost.
Gaze-on, fast thronging Britons, all amazed!
The scaly bronze pluckt, from his hardy breast,
Whereas shine glorious scars, as one possessed,
Now direful, looks, with eyeballs staring, strange:
Hark, then, with swelling voice, he vows his blood!
To Island Britain's high safe-guarding gods:
With prayer, they smite thus Roman enemies!
This said, drawn Divicos skean of his broad glaive,
(Shines in the sun!) he it thrust, ah, in his bowels.
And fell that hero, from his tall horse, forth.
He wallows, dying, on the trampled grass;
To green mound's foot! so gave, with groan, the ghost.
Gaze-on, fast thronging Britons, all amazed!
Come eve, they, three times, march, round his cold corse;
Which priests, then, helmed and hauberked, as he is,
Bury, in what place he fell, unwashed the blood;
For sacred is his body: and the sun's druids,
Did, sithence, loose forth Divicos' tall war-steed,
To pasture, aye, in precinct of the god.
Which priests, then, helmed and hauberked, as he is,
Bury, in what place he fell, unwashed the blood;
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Did, sithence, loose forth Divicos' tall war-steed,
To pasture, aye, in precinct of the god.
But what shall be of his twelve captive Romans?
Is sentence of Cunobelin, They contend,
Shall, with like number of lot-chosen Britons.
Whereby might them foreshow sky-dwelling gods,
The fortune of the war, toward, with Romans.
Next noon, proclaimed, with great voice, a king's-herald;
Whoso would him adventure, gainst those Romans,
In battle, to contend, before the gods,
To death; that, from his kindred, he stand forth!
Is sentence of Cunobelin, They contend,
Shall, with like number of lot-chosen Britons.
Whereby might them foreshow sky-dwelling gods,
The fortune of the war, toward, with Romans.
Next noon, proclaimed, with great voice, a king's-herald;
Whoso would him adventure, gainst those Romans,
In battle, to contend, before the gods,
To death; that, from his kindred, he stand forth!
Lo, an hundred then advance them, in the plain!
Young men, of stature, with their arms. Lead druids,
Before the people, one Erm in, by the hand;
Whose eyeballs seared had lightning's sacred flame:
Howbeit, wont, with oft visions, his dim being
Illumine Belin; and here, daily, he hath
His sustenance, with the priests of the sun-god.
That purblind dreamed, this night-time; Must last ruin
Begin, even at his hands, of all blue Britons!
Wherefore, whilst dark, to sense of other wights;
He stole him forth; and groped to priests' grave-place,
League's way, in the wide plain. There, laid him down,
He prayed that god, to take his weary life.
But, at his druid's word, hath sent Cunobelin;
And Erm was fetched, again, in the king's chariot.
Young men, of stature, with their arms. Lead druids,
Before the people, one Erm in, by the hand;
Whose eyeballs seared had lightning's sacred flame:
Howbeit, wont, with oft visions, his dim being
Illumine Belin; and here, daily, he hath
His sustenance, with the priests of the sun-god.
That purblind dreamed, this night-time; Must last ruin
Begin, even at his hands, of all blue Britons!
Wherefore, whilst dark, to sense of other wights;
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League's way, in the wide plain. There, laid him down,
He prayed that god, to take his weary life.
But, at his druid's word, hath sent Cunobelin;
And Erm was fetched, again, in the king's chariot.
Oft as this, (who goes knocking, with his staff,)
Then stays: he it, raught forth; to some young man, toucht!
And should, mongst these, be cast the battle-lots.
Helm-clad, the captives shall, as legionaries,
And harnessed, fight; bearing their Roman arms.
Then stays: he it, raught forth; to some young man, toucht!
And should, mongst these, be cast the battle-lots.
Helm-clad, the captives shall, as legionaries,
And harnessed, fight; bearing their Roman arms.
Declining, now, the sun, to afternoon;
Before the tribes, which sit on the green mounds,
Six Romans, lo, opposed to six tall Britons!
Each Briton armed, in guise of his own tribe.
Lifting their eyes, towards Belin and the gods,
Loud pray the island people, with one voice,
Give victory, unto their young men warriors! Heralds
First blowing horns of bronze, of a grave note,
Proclaim, aloud, Cunobelin's ordinance.
Before the tribes, which sit on the green mounds,
Six Romans, lo, opposed to six tall Britons!
Each Briton armed, in guise of his own tribe.
Lifting their eyes, towards Belin and the gods,
Loud pray the island people, with one voice,
Give victory, unto their young men warriors! Heralds
First blowing horns of bronze, of a grave note,
Proclaim, aloud, Cunobelin's ordinance.
Being measured lists, with line and hazel-rods,
Cunobelin gave the sign. Then, of both parts,
Outleap those champions, to the battle-dance:
Britons and Romans, shouting, each, their gods!
Lo, under Briton's glaive, first, falls some Roman.
Is pierced a Briton, then, of Roman javelin;
He, dying, on his knees, stays on his hand.
Yet falls a Roman. Failed, then, Britons' hearts;
For he, who foremost of the island part,
Grief of all eyes, is smitten down, to death!
As numbed, they wait, on judgment of their gods.
Cunobelin gave the sign. Then, of both parts,
Outleap those champions, to the battle-dance:
Britons and Romans, shouting, each, their gods!
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Is pierced a Briton, then, of Roman javelin;
He, dying, on his knees, stays on his hand.
Yet falls a Roman. Failed, then, Britons' hearts;
For he, who foremost of the island part,
Grief of all eyes, is smitten down, to death!
As numbed, they wait, on judgment of their gods.
Druids some signs, in this, of birds, beholding,
Speak to Cunobelin. Pious the Land's Ward,
Beckons, with his high hand! His heralds, then,
Their sceptres interposing, part the champions.
Those, leaning on their weapons, blow and sweat!
But when, not lawful were, read Belin's druids,
Renew the battle, in a dying sun;
Chanting loud funeral lays, from the green mounds;
In worship of their dead, the folk descended.
Speak to Cunobelin. Pious the Land's Ward,
Beckons, with his high hand! His heralds, then,
Their sceptres interposing, part the champions.
Those, leaning on their weapons, blow and sweat!
But when, not lawful were, read Belin's druids,
Renew the battle, in a dying sun;
Chanting loud funeral lays, from the green mounds;
In worship of their dead, the folk descended.
Dawing new morn, on plain of the day's god,
Measure new lists the heralds, oak-leaf crowned,
And that, by new-made grave of Gaulish Divicos.
Nine young men stand, lo, Britons of stout looks,
Gainst nine that rest of Roman harnessed soldiers.
Then silence made; warlord Cunobelin,
Through his interpreter, (an exile from Gaul,)
Those Romans bade, require what grace they will,
Towards their deaths. Promised the sire, moreover,
Who should 'scape with his life, might freely pass
O'er, to the Continent, in some Gaulish ship,
With safeguard and with gifts. Naught, of their enemies,
Ask Roman soldiers; but it were, to taste
Some little meat. Eating, each exhorts other;
Quit them like Romans! One, who best could speak,
Quoth, Fear we not this nation's barbare face;
Nor the dread shout of hostile multitude.
Bellona and mighty Mars, guardians of Rome,
And divine Julius; (if to any gods,
May come our prayer, from this far island coast,)
Favour our arms. In vertue and martial skill,
We our foes, and Roman fortitude, excell.
Fellows, though few, yet enranged, foot to foot,
And helm to helm, with shout, first rushing on,
Hurl we our darts: then, take we to our glaives.
Measure new lists the heralds, oak-leaf crowned,
And that, by new-made grave of Gaulish Divicos.
Nine young men stand, lo, Britons of stout looks,
Gainst nine that rest of Roman harnessed soldiers.
Then silence made; warlord Cunobelin,
Through his interpreter, (an exile from Gaul,)
Those Romans bade, require what grace they will,
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Who should 'scape with his life, might freely pass
O'er, to the Continent, in some Gaulish ship,
With safeguard and with gifts. Naught, of their enemies,
Ask Roman soldiers; but it were, to taste
Some little meat. Eating, each exhorts other;
Quit them like Romans! One, who best could speak,
Quoth, Fear we not this nation's barbare face;
Nor the dread shout of hostile multitude.
Bellona and mighty Mars, guardians of Rome,
And divine Julius; (if to any gods,
May come our prayer, from this far island coast,)
Favour our arms. In vertue and martial skill,
We our foes, and Roman fortitude, excell.
Fellows, though few, yet enranged, foot to foot,
And helm to helm, with shout, first rushing on,
Hurl we our darts: then, take we to our glaives.
Lo, long-haired, naked striplings, without harness!
That, woad-stained now shall fight, gainst plate-clad soldiers:
As poplars should contend, with stedfast oaks.
Britons, above, sit on the green grave-mounds,
In rows, around. Cunobelin gave, then, sign,
Smiting his hands, together! On both parts,
Who fight, with dreadful counter-yells, outrush!
That, woad-stained now shall fight, gainst plate-clad soldiers:
As poplars should contend, with stedfast oaks.
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In rows, around. Cunobelin gave, then, sign,
Smiting his hands, together! On both parts,
Who fight, with dreadful counter-yells, outrush!
Those, which in ordinance are of legionaries,
Erst thrill, with darts, the Britons' bulls'-hide shields,
Distempered of the rain. Ah, fallen four Britons!
There fall three, with them, slain, of plate-clad Romans!
And leans one on his targe, is hurt to death.
Lifted, lo, hand, to slay him, with broad glaive!
Erst thrill, with darts, the Britons' bulls'-hide shields,
Distempered of the rain. Ah, fallen four Britons!
There fall three, with them, slain, of plate-clad Romans!
And leans one on his targe, is hurt to death.
Lifted, lo, hand, to slay him, with broad glaive!
But, in that moment, (a vast thunder roars!)
Sky-rending Taran, then, a quivering lightning,
Athwart men's eyelids, darted to the ground.
At druids' new cry, his royal hand, uplifted
The white-locked sire. Their sceptre-rods cast heralds,
As yester, then, betwixt that strife of champions.
Quoth Belin's priest, That god, whose glaive the lightning,
Is angry in heaven; and wills this battle cease.
On him, who reels, of Romans, with death's wound,
(As sacred to the gods of underworld,)
A mad priest seizing, slays, with altar-knife.
Druids make divination, by his fall!
Sky-rending Taran, then, a quivering lightning,
Athwart men's eyelids, darted to the ground.
At druids' new cry, his royal hand, uplifted
The white-locked sire. Their sceptre-rods cast heralds,
As yester, then, betwixt that strife of champions.
Quoth Belin's priest, That god, whose glaive the lightning,
Is angry in heaven; and wills this battle cease.
On him, who reels, of Romans, with death's wound,
(As sacred to the gods of underworld,)
A mad priest seizing, slays, with altar-knife.
Druids make divination, by his fall!
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Priests bury, where they fell, the Romans slain,
Laid, on their breasts, great stones; lest they should rise,
To trouble Britain. Lay, in chambered mound,
A mourning people, without wailing cries,
(Old royal tomb,) their woad-stained glorious dead.
Laid, on their breasts, great stones; lest they should rise,
To trouble Britain. Lay, in chambered mound,
A mourning people, without wailing cries,
(Old royal tomb,) their woad-stained glorious dead.
Wreathed collars gives Cunobelin, of red gold,
To those five Briton champions, which survive:
Gives freedom, to that remnant of proud Romans;
Gold rings and money coined, wealth of Isle Britain.
And, for an angry nation them enclose;
(Till found were mean, to save them to mainland;)
The king, lest any slay them, gives them guard.
To those five Briton champions, which survive:
Gives freedom, to that remnant of proud Romans;
Gold rings and money coined, wealth of Isle Britain.
And, for an angry nation them enclose;
(Till found were mean, to save them to mainland;)
The king, lest any slay them, gives them guard.
When now all kings, to morrow's sacrifice;
(Which daily is slain, at the great temple-stone,)
Are come; Cunobelin, that both sickness hath,
And heavy age; and may, no longer, bear
The sovereignty; his belt-of-strength deposed,
(That glittering girdle royal, of burned gold:
Which ensign is, since days of Cassiobellan,
Of who warlord, o'er all tribes of South Britain,)
In ancient Mogont's hands; priest, purple-stoled,
Midst choir of leaf-crowned druids, of the sun-god;
That, in his holy temple, dance and chant.
(Which daily is slain, at the great temple-stone,)
Are come; Cunobelin, that both sickness hath,
And heavy age; and may, no longer, bear
The sovereignty; his belt-of-strength deposed,
(That glittering girdle royal, of burned gold:
Which ensign is, since days of Cassiobellan,
Of who warlord, o'er all tribes of South Britain,)
In ancient Mogont's hands; priest, purple-stoled,
Midst choir of leaf-crowned druids, of the sun-god;
That, in his holy temple, dance and chant.
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Received it, reverent, goeth, lo, Mogont forth,
Before them all, with solemn dancing foot;
Through the great temple's midst, till come to place,
Where fire, (which fell from heaven; the sacred hearth,)
Burns. He, then, (three times, turned to West, from East,)
Lays, on sun's altar-stone, that golden belt!
Before them all, with solemn dancing foot;
Through the great temple's midst, till come to place,
Where fire, (which fell from heaven; the sacred hearth,)
Burns. He, then, (three times, turned to West, from East,)
Lays, on sun's altar-stone, that golden belt!
Whose chariot-wheels shine, in this morning sun?
Caratacus; he, it is, so swiftly arrives!
Yet pale the prince, from sickness nigh to death.
With whom stands riding, in white glittering war-cart,
With antique targe, old Cantion Dumnoveros.
And when, at porch of Belin's mighty house,
Those light, all Britons, standing round, applaud!
Caratacus; he, it is, so swiftly arrives!
Yet pale the prince, from sickness nigh to death.
With whom stands riding, in white glittering war-cart,
With antique targe, old Cantion Dumnoveros.
And when, at porch of Belin's mighty house,
Those light, all Britons, standing round, applaud!
Devout, then, in wheel-temple, of the sun,
All enter; where, when Dumnoveros hears,
(Who next, in Samoth's house is, to Cunobelin,)
In reverend age; how he, mongst kings, deposed
That golden belt, ensign of the Land's Ward;
He it shining lifts, and girds, with loud accord,
Of all their throats! the loins of Togodumnos.
All enter; where, when Dumnoveros hears,
(Who next, in Samoth's house is, to Cunobelin,)
In reverend age; how he, mongst kings, deposed
That golden belt, ensign of the Land's Ward;
He it shining lifts, and girds, with loud accord,
Of all their throats! the loins of Togodumnos.
And Togodumnos feels, in him, infused,
New strength and vertue of his saviour gods.
To heaven, shout Britons; when, with pomp of druids,
Kings bring him forth, to morning parliament;
That shot-down sunny beam, from covert skies,
See rest, mongst lords and druids, on Togodumnos!
New strength and vertue of his saviour gods.
To heaven, shout Britons; when, with pomp of druids,
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That shot-down sunny beam, from covert skies,
See rest, mongst lords and druids, on Togodumnos!
Was marked Segontorix wry away his face;
And how he paled, in temple of the god!
Being changed to gall, his ruddy countenance,
When girded lord-of-war was Togodumnos;
And he, with mantle, covered his stern face.
Nor went he, thence, among the kings, to sit;
But drew him to his tent, apart; where blaming
The heavens, that any were, before his worth,
Preferred, that lord did wallow on the grass.
And how he paled, in temple of the god!
Being changed to gall, his ruddy countenance,
When girded lord-of-war was Togodumnos;
And he, with mantle, covered his stern face.
Nor went he, thence, among the kings, to sit;
But drew him to his tent, apart; where blaming
The heavens, that any were, before his worth,
Preferred, that lord did wallow on the grass.
There no man durst, then, to the Guledig, call;
Till his strong passion, for he noble was,
Towards eve, subdued; the Belges' sire uprose,
Did on his raiment royal, and went forth:
So came to that broad oak, whose leafy arms,
Shelter the kings, where they assembled sup.
Till his strong passion, for he noble was,
Towards eve, subdued; the Belges' sire uprose,
Did on his raiment royal, and went forth:
So came to that broad oak, whose leafy arms,
Shelter the kings, where they assembled sup.
All yield room, to this nephew of old Commius,
That he might sit down, in the highest place,
Twixt Togodumnos and Caratacus.
Sith, after supper, when is poured-out mead;
Lifting his right hand, he, with manly voice,
Sware fealty, unto new warlord Togodumnos.
That he might sit down, in the highest place,
Twixt Togodumnos and Caratacus.
Sith, after supper, when is poured-out mead;
Lifting his right hand, he, with manly voice,
Sware fealty, unto new warlord Togodumnos.
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Failed the old sire, and fainted, in the night;
But he revived. Come morrow; king Cunobelin,
His servants, to the god's great temple's porch,
Bear, where, before South Britons, lords and druids,
Holds Togodumnos, morning parliament.
But he revived. Come morrow; king Cunobelin,
His servants, to the god's great temple's porch,
Bear, where, before South Britons, lords and druids,
Holds Togodumnos, morning parliament.
All hearken, the old king of warriors speaks!
Britons, Cunobelin, by his fathers' gods!
(Long warfare he foreshows, after his death,)
Exhorts to concord all, in war with Rome:
Else must, as parted streams, they lose their strength
He reads, (king most expert, in Britons' wars,)
Not fight with Romans, in an open field;
But rather waste, before their legions' march;
Them daily outwear, with ambushes, and cut-off
Their hindward, with oft onsets of swift chariots.
And be, (which from his fathers, he received,)
They ware to fight, when setting is day's sun;
Nor seek join battle, in a waning moon.
Let every night be full of new alarms!
Britons, Cunobelin, by his fathers' gods!
(Long warfare he foreshows, after his death,)
Exhorts to concord all, in war with Rome:
Else must, as parted streams, they lose their strength
He reads, (king most expert, in Britons' wars,)
Not fight with Romans, in an open field;
But rather waste, before their legions' march;
Them daily outwear, with ambushes, and cut-off
Their hindward, with oft onsets of swift chariots.
And be, (which from his fathers, he received,)
They ware to fight, when setting is day's sun;
Nor seek join battle, in a waning moon.
Let every night be full of new alarms!
Because might Britons' weapons, forged of bronze
Uneath the Romans' tempered hauberks pierce,
Counsels the sire, send, wide, for cunning smiths;
To beat, of tempered iron, glaives, heads of spears.
Uneath the Romans' tempered hauberks pierce,
Counsels the sire, send, wide, for cunning smiths;
To beat, of tempered iron, glaives, heads of spears.
Then risen Duneda, (for his kingly looks,
Like some war-god,) mongst Britons' lords and druids;
Reads, that, of gold and silver, were there made
Collection; namely, to hire wrights and smiths.
This said; he let fall his own royal weed,
On the green herb; and cast, in it, displayed,
Erst, Duffreynt's king, his red gold shining bracelets,
Like dragons long enrolled; and his broad brooch,
Like golden sun, within a silver wheel.
Like some war-god,) mongst Britons' lords and druids;
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Collection; namely, to hire wrights and smiths.
This said; he let fall his own royal weed,
On the green herb; and cast, in it, displayed,
Erst, Duffreynt's king, his red gold shining bracelets,
Like dragons long enrolled; and his broad brooch,
Like golden sun, within a silver wheel.
Lords, after him and kings, cast, with large hand,
Collars and bracelets, of burned gold, and rings.
Confer the warlike Britons, also, bronze,
And silver. Then, that war-gift take up druids;
And lay, lo, on the altar of their god.
Parted, at afternoon, the sire Cunobelin;
Whom all bring forth, to dry-hilled Sorbiodunum,
Then, kings and chief estates. Tarry yet Britons,
To make the Sun's great sacrifice of steeds.
Collars and bracelets, of burned gold, and rings.
Confer the warlike Britons, also, bronze,
And silver. Then, that war-gift take up druids;
And lay, lo, on the altar of their god.
Parted, at afternoon, the sire Cunobelin;
Whom all bring forth, to dry-hilled Sorbiodunum,
Then, kings and chief estates. Tarry yet Britons,
To make the Sun's great sacrifice of steeds.
The second day; was noised, in Belin's plain,
Deceased, in his home journey, king Cunobelin.
Died weary, in hís long wayfare, the hoar sire,
(To whom not given was, of his island-gods,
To lead blue Britons, in their Roman war!)
And lapped in hairy hide, of a black steer.
(They sacrificed unto gods of underworld,)
His faithful servants now, to Verulam, bear;
With loud and long lament, the royal corse.
Return the royal sons, on fleetest steeds,
Caradoc and, king now, warlord Togodumnos.
Deceased, in his home journey, king Cunobelin.
Died weary, in hís long wayfare, the hoar sire,
(To whom not given was, of his island-gods,
To lead blue Britons, in their Roman war!)
And lapped in hairy hide, of a black steer.
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His faithful servants now, to Verulam, bear;
With loud and long lament, the royal corse.
Return the royal sons, on fleetest steeds,
Caradoc and, king now, warlord Togodumnos.
But when that funeral pomp, to Verulam gates,
Arrives; forbid, were burned the warlord dead,
His people's druids: lest mount the sire's great spirit,
From earth, unmindful of invading legions!
They bury will Cunobelin, with his spear;
Seated on royal throne, in vaulted walls;
His swift team, by him, and a royal chariot.
Nor made should funeral games be, for Cunobelin,
Time of the Roman war: which ended, bards
With loud lays, should contend, to praise the sire.
Arrives; forbid, were burned the warlord dead,
His people's druids: lest mount the sire's great spirit,
From earth, unmindful of invading legions!
They bury will Cunobelin, with his spear;
Seated on royal throne, in vaulted walls;
His swift team, by him, and a royal chariot.
Nor made should funeral games be, for Cunobelin,
Time of the Roman war: which ended, bards
With loud lays, should contend, to praise the sire.
Tombed the great warlord Catuvelaunian king,
Before the towered high gate of Verulamion,
Mongst concourse of South Britons' lords and druids;
Standing Cunobelin's sons, at the grave-mound,
Caradoc, and, (warlord,) martial Togodumnos;
Joined their right hands, the kingdom they divide,
Betwixt them, as disposed their sire, before;
Whereof bare record Verulam's chief estates.
Before the towered high gate of Verulamion,
Mongst concourse of South Britons' lords and druids;
Standing Cunobelin's sons, at the grave-mound,
Caradoc, and, (warlord,) martial Togodumnos;
Joined their right hands, the kingdom they divide,
Betwixt them, as disposed their sire, before;
Whereof bare record Verulam's chief estates.
Shall Togodumnos, rule, o'er Catuvelaunians;
Whose city is this great Verulam, upon Ver,
The royal tribe. East from whose marches, gave
Old Trinobantine soil, with Camulodunum,
(The conquered march and dune of Eppilos,)
Cunobelin, to his son Caratacus.
Shall be that flood their border, which runs down,
To Thames, by London hythe. And heir is Embla,
Of Cantion, after Dumnoveros' death.
In the king's hall, all drink, then, funeral mead.
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The royal tribe. East from whose marches, gave
Old Trinobantine soil, with Camulodunum,
(The conquered march and dune of Eppilos,)
Cunobelin, to his son Caratacus.
Shall be that flood their border, which runs down,
To Thames, by London hythe. And heir is Embla,
Of Cantion, after Dumnoveros' death.
In the king's hall, all drink, then, funeral mead.
But come Duneda and kings, from the Sun's plain;
To Togodumnos, who now lord in Verulam:
Reads Duffreynt's king; were published that war-ban,
Which was in days of antique Cassiobellan;
Since must be, to the death, this war with Rome:
When war-flame, on the beacon hills, is seen,
Rise valiant youth! repair, with arms and victual,
Unto your commotes' lords. What man is, then,
Last to arrive, shall be an hilding named;
And may, before his people, be put to death!
To Togodumnos, who now lord in Verulam:
Reads Duffreynt's king; were published that war-ban,
Which was in days of antique Cassiobellan;
Since must be, to the death, this war with Rome:
When war-flame, on the beacon hills, is seen,
Rise valiant youth! repair, with arms and victual,
Unto your commotes' lords. What man is, then,
Last to arrive, shall be an hilding named;
And may, before his people, be put to death!
These things determined, part Caratacus,
And gentle Embla; with great train and honour:
Albe, in mourning stole, for the king's death.
With pomp they ride of horse, and shining chariots,
Two days, to city on Colne, of Camulus.
There they arriving, the town's magistrates,
And joyful citizens, greet them, at the gates;
Whence, twixt ranged throngs, they bring king Caradoc, forth,
To mead-hall; where prepared is royal feast.
And gentle Embla; with great train and honour:
Albe, in mourning stole, for the king's death.
With pomp they ride of horse, and shining chariots,
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There they arriving, the town's magistrates,
And joyful citizens, greet them, at the gates;
Whence, twixt ranged throngs, they bring king Caradoc, forth,
To mead-hall; where prepared is royal feast.
King Caradoc finds, with much disorder, filled
His court, wherein dwelled, lately, Red Adminius:
And this last night-time, (an East wind them wafted,)
Fifteen long stranger war-keels were come in;
Are men of uncouth speech and battle-gods,
And Almaigne guise, who sail, upon their boards;
That warped, now, cold-beaked anchors, in this hythe!
And some on Woden, some on Thunor, call.
On their most shields, is pictured a white horse:
A raven is their ensign, in the wars.
His court, wherein dwelled, lately, Red Adminius:
And this last night-time, (an East wind them wafted,)
Fifteen long stranger war-keels were come in;
Are men of uncouth speech and battle-gods,
And Almaigne guise, who sail, upon their boards;
That warped, now, cold-beaked anchors, in this hythe!
And some on Woden, some on Thunor, call.
On their most shields, is pictured a white horse:
A raven is their ensign, in the wars.
The men are pirates, sailing in long keels,
With high-necked dragon stems and gilded ensigns;
Whose crated bulwarks, deckt, with hard bulls'-hide,
Are shingled all with shields. Their wadmel sails,
Loost-out, to dry, hang, flagging, in the wind.
In every nimble keel, sail fifty thanes;
And fifty strong boats'-carles row, on the banks;
That draw long sinewed oars of the light pine.
And limned, with blue, each warrior's face is seen.
Some wear ring-kirtles, over long frieze coats;
And each one girds broad leathern belt, wherein
Shines skean or twibill. In the tawny locks,
Of many, (upbound for fence,) are broad iron rings.
With high-necked dragon stems and gilded ensigns;
Whose crated bulwarks, deckt, with hard bulls'-hide,
Are shingled all with shields. Their wadmel sails,
Loost-out, to dry, hang, flagging, in the wind.
In every nimble keel, sail fifty thanes;
And fifty strong boats'-carles row, on the banks;
That draw long sinewed oars of the light pine.
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Some wear ring-kirtles, over long frieze coats;
And each one girds broad leathern belt, wherein
Shines skean or twibill. In the tawny locks,
Of many, (upbound for fence,) are broad iron rings.
Those boast them ploughmen, in their boisterous lays,
Of the sea's field; whose fallow long wave-rows,
Their balks and furlongs; wherein they, to Ran,
Wont tithing cast, of all their gotten preys;
Which they have ravished, on some enemy-coast:
Whence those, with braying song, of their rude throats,
Which seem contend with the hoarse tempest's voice,
Row forth, with speedy oars. If any pirate,
Break troth of his shiplord: in the next haven,
Bound to an anchor, men him warp from board!
Of the sea's field; whose fallow long wave-rows,
Their balks and furlongs; wherein they, to Ran,
Wont tithing cast, of all their gotten preys;
Which they have ravished, on some enemy-coast:
Whence those, with braying song, of their rude throats,
Which seem contend with the hoarse tempest's voice,
Row forth, with speedy oars. If any pirate,
Break troth of his shiplord: in the next haven,
Bound to an anchor, men him warp from board!
Those, turned, (in far North Coast,) to creeky shores,
When the leaf falls, drawn-up their long row-ships;
Sit, in the lords' high halls, at winter hearths,
Drunken of ale; and chant their warlike gods.
Nor any are, in the world, than these, more valorous,
Found; that none other fine esteem of life,
Than, chosen of Woden, fall in furious fight.
When the leaf falls, drawn-up their long row-ships;
Sit, in the lords' high halls, at winter hearths,
Drunken of ale; and chant their warlike gods.
Nor any are, in the world, than these, more valorous,
Found; that none other fine esteem of life,
Than, chosen of Woden, fall in furious fight.
Lords of those pirate keels go, proudly, afoot;
Leaning, in stranger land, on their war-spears:
As each soil were, like as sea-waves so wide,
Their own, where they arrive. The great tower-gate
They entered, of this city of Camulus,
Come on, with people's concourse, to king's hall.
Men are they of violent looks, that only trust,
(Fearing none gods,) in their own arms and force!
These thrust on, mainly, unto higher place;
And, loud, for the sweet mead, gin call and ale;
And they, uneath, had hailed king Caradoc!
Who looks, on the strange warriors, from high stall.
Leaning, in stranger land, on their war-spears:
As each soil were, like as sea-waves so wide,
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They entered, of this city of Camulus,
Come on, with people's concourse, to king's hall.
Men are they of violent looks, that only trust,
(Fearing none gods,) in their own arms and force!
These thrust on, mainly, unto higher place;
And, loud, for the sweet mead, gin call and ale;
And they, uneath, had hailed king Caradoc!
Who looks, on the strange warriors, from high stall.
Howbe, they, in Northman speech, in Caradoc's hall,
Each other greet; (as who reck smally of Britons!)
Saying, Cóme-hale, Sit-hale, on this bench or stool;
Drink-hale! This Woden's cup, for Victory;
The next to Niord, and Frey; for a good year:
For young men, which have, as the king commanded,
Set meat before them, bear now ale and mead.
Each other greet; (as who reck smally of Britons!)
Saying, Cóme-hale, Sit-hale, on this bench or stool;
Drink-hale! This Woden's cup, for Victory;
The next to Niord, and Frey; for a good year:
For young men, which have, as the king commanded,
Set meat before them, bear now ale and mead.
Whiles those eat bread and chines of larded boar;
And drink out deep-mouthed horns of curmi and mead;
King Caradoc sent, for an interpreter.
But when that sea-folk have, at length, enough;
Upspake one of those warmen, of North Strand,
(Interpreting, now, some ship-swain of Manannan,)
Which seems, by his bright arms and lofty looks,
Should be their king, (and Bloodaxe his bold name;)
What mean the lords of Bret-land, these last days;
Sending their message, by the Red-mare ship,
To call, from far East-Way, the pirates forth,
So hastily, in arms; as gainst some Romish fleet?
Shall Cæsar sail to Britain's rime-white cliffs!
And drink out deep-mouthed horns of curmi and mead;
King Caradoc sent, for an interpreter.
But when that sea-folk have, at length, enough;
Upspake one of those warmen, of North Strand,
(Interpreting, now, some ship-swain of Manannan,)
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Should be their king, (and Bloodaxe his bold name;)
What mean the lords of Bret-land, these last days;
Sending their message, by the Red-mare ship,
To call, from far East-Way, the pirates forth,
So hastily, in arms; as gainst some Romish fleet?
Shall Cæsar sail to Britain's rime-white cliffs!
Kings of Bret-land, in plough-time, have them called,
From far-off wicks, long have they rowed and sailed:
Whence their boat-carles, for certain weight of bronze,
Look; and their thanes require, for the king's sake.
Else his ship-folk, returning home, as scorned,
Might, on some Bret-land coast, light, with armed hand;
Which hurt were to the king! he quoth, whereat,
Laught, a loud laughter, their untuned hoarse throats!
Whose insolent eyes, seem Britons to devour,
Already! Wherefore Colne's stout citizens
Watch, day and night, with secret guard of spears,
To keep the river-gate, upon their walls.
From far-off wicks, long have they rowed and sailed:
Whence their boat-carles, for certain weight of bronze,
Look; and their thanes require, for the king's sake.
Else his ship-folk, returning home, as scorned,
Might, on some Bret-land coast, light, with armed hand;
Which hurt were to the king! he quoth, whereat,
Laught, a loud laughter, their untuned hoarse throats!
Whose insolent eyes, seem Britons to devour,
Already! Wherefore Colne's stout citizens
Watch, day and night, with secret guard of spears,
To keep the river-gate, upon their walls.
Swells the great heart of noble Caradoc;
And hardly, his rising wrath, the king repressed,
With righteous thought, that sacred are all guests.
Cometh in then Embla: and the gentle queen,
Unto all commendeth patience, with sweet looks.
Sith, to each steersman, giveth, herself, the queen,
A piece of gold; whereon pourtrayed, is seen
The face and battle-chariot of Cunobelin.
Moreo'er, when such their custom and land's-wont,
She understood; twixt her two gracious palms,
She bears, lo, a mighty horn in Camulus' hall,
Of royal mead, to chief ones of the ships.
And hardly, his rising wrath, the king repressed,
With righteous thought, that sacred are all guests.
Cometh in then Embla: and the gentle queen,
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Sith, to each steersman, giveth, herself, the queen,
A piece of gold; whereon pourtrayed, is seen
The face and battle-chariot of Cunobelin.
Moreo'er, when such their custom and land's-wont,
She understood; twixt her two gracious palms,
She bears, lo, a mighty horn in Camulus' hall,
Of royal mead, to chief ones of the ships.
Queen Embla seemed then radiance of the sun!
The hearts relent, as wax, of those stout champions,
Beholding her, beneath their ringed-iron harness:
And falls, like o'erpassed storm, their truculent mood.
Who then is there, not sayeth, in secret breast,
Fair lady, all-hail! Though gnaws, for ire, his lips,
(Whose heart like spended bow,) Caratacus;
He gives an ox, out of the royal stalls,
Unto every keel, that might those, rowing forth,
To sea, make feast: and poise, to every rower,
Of bronze. To every lord of a longship,
A silver cup; and raiment for each wight.
The Almains drink then covenant, and depart;
Covenant, that they the narrow-seas should watch.
The hearts relent, as wax, of those stout champions,
Beholding her, beneath their ringed-iron harness:
And falls, like o'erpassed storm, their truculent mood.
Who then is there, not sayeth, in secret breast,
Fair lady, all-hail! Though gnaws, for ire, his lips,
(Whose heart like spended bow,) Caratacus;
He gives an ox, out of the royal stalls,
Unto every keel, that might those, rowing forth,
To sea, make feast: and poise, to every rower,
Of bronze. To every lord of a longship,
A silver cup; and raiment for each wight.
The Almains drink then covenant, and depart;
Covenant, that they the narrow-seas should watch.
Yet heard is word, of other Almain ships;
Come likewise in, under the cold clay-cliffs,
By Branodunum, of Icenic coast.
Lord, warden of that march, them, Hiradoc hath
Received. The strangers, drawn-up their long yawls;
In booths, nigh-hand, of boughs, lodge, on heath side.
And Hiradoc some to Verulam sends, in chariots;
To war-king, great Bretwalda, Togodumnos.
Come likewise in, under the cold clay-cliffs,
By Branodunum, of Icenic coast.
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Received. The strangers, drawn-up their long yawls;
In booths, nigh-hand, of boughs, lodge, on heath side.
And Hiradoc some to Verulam sends, in chariots;
To war-king, great Bretwalda, Togodumnos.
Mongst those, came renowned Thorolf, from Elbe's mouth,
Nephew of Arthemail, with his blue-winged ships;
Whose sire now rules, o'er mingled Ambones.
Come Chaucan, with him, and Cheruscan earls,
Of his great kindred, that descends from Brennus:
Each, with armed bands, in many long row-keels.
To Britain hath, outsailing, Thorolf sworn,
A Roman captain slay, on Brennus' tomb!
Nephew of Arthemail, with his blue-winged ships;
Whose sire now rules, o'er mingled Ambones.
Come Chaucan, with him, and Cheruscan earls,
Of his great kindred, that descends from Brennus:
Each, with armed bands, in many long row-keels.
To Britain hath, outsailing, Thorolf sworn,
A Roman captain slay, on Brennus' tomb!
Nephew of Brennus, Thorolf is, in force,
As a wild bull. Might this, is told, a wain,
Pluck back gainst an ox-team. Wolf leapt on Thorolf,
In his first strength: but like hill-sheep, him caught,
The hero-child, by his long neck-hairs, and strangled!
A bear, another while, in swart pine forest,
Whose latticed boughs, all day, dim twilight made,
With Thorolf met; whence none returning was.
Bearing no weapon, he, with snatcht wild stone,
Choked the brute's gorge; that, erewhile, had slain men;
And, on him, gaping, rose, with dreadful claws.
Nor yet were given, to Thorolf, manly arms.
As a wild bull. Might this, is told, a wain,
Pluck back gainst an ox-team. Wolf leapt on Thorolf,
In his first strength: but like hill-sheep, him caught,
The hero-child, by his long neck-hairs, and strangled!
A bear, another while, in swart pine forest,
Whose latticed boughs, all day, dim twilight made,
With Thorolf met; whence none returning was.
Bearing no weapon, he, with snatcht wild stone,
Choked the brute's gorge; that, erewhile, had slain men;
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Nor yet were given, to Thorolf, manly arms.
What day his sire, king Wittig, armed his hands,
With spear and shield, before the folk, and bade
Do valiantly; Thorolf went out from the feast,
Him following all the men, of his young age:
And ere they again, at morrow's break, ate bread;
That ethling smote the pirates of the Elbe;
Which, longtime, had vext Wittig's warlike march.
And grows, each day, his heart, to emulate,
Of his great sires, the high heroic worth.
Lie stooping, on the wind, now nigh the land,
His thirteen keels: and well are they purveyed,
With men and corn. Who sit, within their boards,
Chant, as they sail, of Heremod and great Brennus!
With spear and shield, before the folk, and bade
Do valiantly; Thorolf went out from the feast,
Him following all the men, of his young age:
And ere they again, at morrow's break, ate bread;
That ethling smote the pirates of the Elbe;
Which, longtime, had vext Wittig's warlike march.
And grows, each day, his heart, to emulate,
Of his great sires, the high heroic worth.
Lie stooping, on the wind, now nigh the land,
His thirteen keels: and well are they purveyed,
With men and corn. Who sit, within their boards,
Chant, as they sail, of Heremod and great Brennus!
Is also told, how, erewhile, Sœxmund named
Was Thorolf; till came Hild in, to Elbe-haven,
(Hild, Elsing;) and was Hild an ancient friend
Of Wittig's father, lord of East-sea ships.
Mishapped, fell, one day, Sœxmund yet a child,
Down in Elbe's tideway, from the stranger's poop,
Whereon he played. Was Hild's hand, Sœxmund snatcht;
Fast-swimming, (leapt after him, then,) from drowning death!
Was Thorolf; till came Hild in, to Elbe-haven,
(Hild, Elsing;) and was Hild an ancient friend
Of Wittig's father, lord of East-sea ships.
Mishapped, fell, one day, Sœxmund yet a child,
Down in Elbe's tideway, from the stranger's poop,
Whereon he played. Was Hild's hand, Sœxmund snatcht;
Fast-swimming, (leapt after him, then,) from drowning death!
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Wherefore, lap-seated the saved royal babe;
Went in, sith, to king's hall; of Wittig, asked,
The Elsing, meed; that his saved little son;
He might again, as second father, name:
Which, to that shiplord, also, grateful, granted
The king and the child's mother. Hild, which hath
No son, after his sires, then, called the babe,
Thorolf; (which Thunor's wolf sounds to West Almains:)
That, by him, to a late world, their renown
Might come; and the wise Veleda had foretold,
Of glorious Woden-life, for Wittig's son!
Went in, sith, to king's hall; of Wittig, asked,
The Elsing, meed; that his saved little son;
He might again, as second father, name:
Which, to that shiplord, also, grateful, granted
The king and the child's mother. Hild, which hath
No son, after his sires, then, called the babe,
Thorolf; (which Thunor's wolf sounds to West Almains:)
That, by him, to a late world, their renown
Might come; and the wise Veleda had foretold,
Of glorious Woden-life, for Wittig's son!
Dwelled, at king Wittig's court, had Gaulish Divicos;
Where came, from time to time, the bard Carvilios;
And Thorolf's high heart stirred, against the Romans.
Moreo'er, by high divining art of druids,
Forespake that bard, dark admirable things,
To the young prince; and more than all this was!
That, spirit divine of antique Heremod,
Should take, again, flesh, in great Brennus' house:
Whence his great mood, enflamed with godlike heat,
Is. Then, appeared, in Britain's isle, he hears,
New-bodied spirits of Belinus and great Brennus;
(Belin in council, Brennus in proud arms!)
His father, Wittig, licensed him to sail;
In those self keels he, from the pirates, wan:
Which known, flockt flower of warlike youth, to Thorolf.
Where came, from time to time, the bard Carvilios;
And Thorolf's high heart stirred, against the Romans.
Moreo'er, by high divining art of druids,
Forespake that bard, dark admirable things,
To the young prince; and more than all this was!
That, spirit divine of antique Heremod,
Should take, again, flesh, in great Brennus' house:
Whence his great mood, enflamed with godlike heat,
Is. Then, appeared, in Britain's isle, he hears,
New-bodied spirits of Belinus and great Brennus;
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His father, Wittig, licensed him to sail;
In those self keels he, from the pirates, wan:
Which known, flockt flower of warlike youth, to Thorolf.
Fall their full sails, behold, now, in wide road:
They outwarp anchors. Thorolf, with few lords,
Descends in barge: so rows, to land of Brennus.
He leapt, in sounding arms, to shore; and stood,
Silent: and spread the ethling his armed hands,
To battle-gods, of Brennus, that burned Rome.
So marched he, to the gate of Branodunum;
And seemed himself an army. Of Hiradoc;
Who him beholds, with stupor, in his hall!
He asks a boon; him speed to Verulamion;
To his high kin, the sons of king Cunobelin.
They outwarp anchors. Thorolf, with few lords,
Descends in barge: so rows, to land of Brennus.
He leapt, in sounding arms, to shore; and stood,
Silent: and spread the ethling his armed hands,
To battle-gods, of Brennus, that burned Rome.
So marched he, to the gate of Branodunum;
And seemed himself an army. Of Hiradoc;
Who him beholds, with stupor, in his hall!
He asks a boon; him speed to Verulamion;
To his high kin, the sons of king Cunobelin.
Consents stout Hiradoc: and when his strange guests,
From overseas, have eaten, and drunk mead;
He, in scýthe-cart, lo, the young illustrious Almain
Conveys; and erst towards city of Camulus.
Standing, by Hiradoc, in the rushing chariot;
Who rules, with voice, and rein his teaméd steeds,
Cheruscan Thorolf passeth that tall Briton
In his heroic stature: from whose neck,
Hangs hammer, of fine gold, of Thunor god,
O'ergraven with sacred runes. With strong war-steeds,
They come, the third day's eve, to Camulodunum.
With honour, him, Queen Embla, there, receives:
Of whom, they hear, returned, to Verulam;
(Where sit now Briton kings, in parliament;
Consulting, for the safety of the Isle;)
King Caradoc, unto warlord Togodumnos.
They mount anew. Then early, at second morrow,
At Verulam's royal court, those lords arrive.
From overseas, have eaten, and drunk mead;
He, in scýthe-cart, lo, the young illustrious Almain
Conveys; and erst towards city of Camulus.
Standing, by Hiradoc, in the rushing chariot;
Who rules, with voice, and rein his teaméd steeds,
Cheruscan Thorolf passeth that tall Briton
In his heroic stature: from whose neck,
Hangs hammer, of fine gold, of Thunor god,
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They come, the third day's eve, to Camulodunum.
With honour, him, Queen Embla, there, receives:
Of whom, they hear, returned, to Verulam;
(Where sit now Briton kings, in parliament;
Consulting, for the safety of the Isle;)
King Caradoc, unto warlord Togodumnos.
They mount anew. Then early, at second morrow,
At Verulam's royal court, those lords arrive.
Passed the dune-gates, duke Hiradoc draws, now, reins,
Before that great new mead-hall of Cunobelin.
Receives a royal hind their smoking steeds;
And leads to stall. They go in, by wide porch:
And hark! one toucht, midst a new silence made,
An harp's shrill strings. They hear a vates' voice:
The harp, the warlike voice of bard Carvilios!
Before that great new mead-hall of Cunobelin.
Receives a royal hind their smoking steeds;
And leads to stall. They go in, by wide porch:
And hark! one toucht, midst a new silence made,
An harp's shrill strings. They hear a vates' voice:
The harp, the warlike voice of bard Carvilios!
They, next the doorway, stand; where noble Thorolf,
Unto a pillar leaned, gan much admire
The countenance of those germain kings, which sit,
In the high seat; young men, like to twin gods:
Aye, and some here sit, whom he had seen in Almaigne,
(With ship-king Divicos,) round these royal walls!
Nor, yet, heard Thorolf tell, of Divicos' death.
Unto a pillar leaned, gan much admire
The countenance of those germain kings, which sit,
In the high seat; young men, like to twin gods:
Aye, and some here sit, whom he had seen in Almaigne,
(With ship-king Divicos,) round these royal walls!
Nor, yet, heard Thorolf tell, of Divicos' death.
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That bard, now, turned, to mourning, his stern note;
Records dead Divicos, to the warlike Britons.
Then darkened is the Almaigne hero's mood;
For he, in part, perceives the Gaulish speech:
Nor marvels, gazing on their warlike looks,
In hall, assembled; that the arms of Brennus,
Had vanquished and burned Rome. Sit men, like kings,
On polisht stools, round these high timbered walls.
Records dead Divicos, to the warlike Britons.
Then darkened is the Almaigne hero's mood;
For he, in part, perceives the Gaulish speech:
Nor marvels, gazing on their warlike looks,
In hall, assembled; that the arms of Brennus,
Had vanquished and burned Rome. Sit men, like kings,
On polisht stools, round these high timbered walls.
Whilst yet he muses, paused Carvilios.
Then made forth Thorolf, powdered as he was,
With dust of running wheels; and Hiradoc.
How turn, on him to gaze, the Britons' press!
Them seems, some war-god, entered, in man's guise.
Hail Hiradoc! quoth Cunobelin's royal sons.
Then made forth Thorolf, powdered as he was,
With dust of running wheels; and Hiradoc.
How turn, on him to gaze, the Britons' press!
Them seems, some war-god, entered, in man's guise.
Hail Hiradoc! quoth Cunobelin's royal sons.
And he; Illustrious Catuvelaunian kings,
Behold, renowned prince Thorolf, Wittig's son;
Who rules, o'er Ambones, beyond the Rhine.
He, nephew of Brennus, Fridia and Heremod,
Obedient to a dream, hath sailed to Britain;
To fight, with us, gainst Rome's invading legions:
And brings, in aid, two thousand Almain warriors.
His long row-keels, ride under my dune cliff.
Answered Cunobelin's sons, In happy hour!
With theirs, sounds loud commingled, people's voice;
In great mead-hall of royal Verulamion!
Behold, renowned prince Thorolf, Wittig's son;
Who rules, o'er Ambones, beyond the Rhine.
He, nephew of Brennus, Fridia and Heremod,
Obedient to a dream, hath sailed to Britain;
To fight, with us, gainst Rome's invading legions:
And brings, in aid, two thousand Almain warriors.
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Answered Cunobelin's sons, In happy hour!
With theirs, sounds loud commingled, people's voice;
In great mead-hall of royal Verulamion!
Uprose those princes, germains, from high stall:
To him, descended; they take, both, his hands;
He kisseth them, both, on their two cheeks, again.
And they, with kiss, him lead, and kinsman name;
Among the kings, to sit, betwixt them both:
And he them asks, of brotherhood and bond;
As Heremod, yore, with Belinus and Brennus.
Sith Thorolf greets the bard Carvilios.
To him, descended; they take, both, his hands;
He kisseth them, both, on their two cheeks, again.
And they, with kiss, him lead, and kinsman name;
Among the kings, to sit, betwixt them both:
And he them asks, of brotherhood and bond;
As Heremod, yore, with Belinus and Brennus.
Sith Thorolf greets the bard Carvilios.
Whilst the tribes' kings prepare, in all South-march,
To warfare; tribes that dwell in far North Britain,
Heard tiding of great Rome's invading threat.
Mongst blue Brigantes, erst, then sire Volisios,
That coast's-ward, sending, by swift messengers, forth,
Green boughs, which druids have pluckt, in sacred groves,
Of holy oaks, assembles parliament,
Of neighbour lords; to treat, concerning aid,
Which they Cunobelin, warlord of South Britain,
Mote send; for, not yet, heard they the sire's death.
To warfare; tribes that dwell in far North Britain,
Heard tiding of great Rome's invading threat.
Mongst blue Brigantes, erst, then sire Volisios,
That coast's-ward, sending, by swift messengers, forth,
Green boughs, which druids have pluckt, in sacred groves,
Of holy oaks, assembles parliament,
Of neighbour lords; to treat, concerning aid,
Which they Cunobelin, warlord of South Britain,
Mote send; for, not yet, heard they the sire's death.
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Princes of warlike tribes sit with Volisios,
In hallowed plot, ringed round, of great pight stones;
To choose, among them, one, by sacred lot,
To captain their great warfare, from the North.
Behold this lot is fallen, on king Velaunos,
Of Coritavian nation. In his name,
Swear then all kings, chief magistrates and high druids.
In hallowed plot, ringed round, of great pight stones;
To choose, among them, one, by sacred lot,
To captain their great warfare, from the North.
Behold this lot is fallen, on king Velaunos,
Of Coritavian nation. In his name,
Swear then all kings, chief magistrates and high druids.
Carvilios, fared from royal Verulamion,
With steeds and war-cart, gift of dead Cunobelin;
(Whom follow noble youth and bards, in chariots,)
From dune to dune, in halls of princes chants;
Calling the island nations, rise, in arms!
But, sith, he hastily is went, unto North parts.
With steeds and war-cart, gift of dead Cunobelin;
(Whom follow noble youth and bards, in chariots,)
From dune to dune, in halls of princes chants;
Calling the island nations, rise, in arms!
But, sith, he hastily is went, unto North parts.
Behold Carvilios, under a green hill,
His bridle draws; where, now, tall long-haired lords,
Kings of the North, consult, in parliament.
The bard approached, to length of a stonecast,
On shining war-wheels, touched then Gaulish harp,
That hangs down from his nape, by silver lace;
Whose shrill wires, like to sharp shafts, pierce men's hearts:
Whereafter he, his far-resounding voice,
(Which bellows-back, from cliffs, above!) sent forth.
His bridle draws; where, now, tall long-haired lords,
Kings of the North, consult, in parliament.
The bard approached, to length of a stonecast,
On shining war-wheels, touched then Gaulish harp,
That hangs down from his nape, by silver lace;
Whose shrill wires, like to sharp shafts, pierce men's hearts:
Whereafter he, his far-resounding voice,
(Which bellows-back, from cliffs, above!) sent forth.
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Fight, Britain's sons, which burned great Rome, with Brennus,
Not loosely arrayed! Is not, of one small stone,
Scattered much sand? of many wolves, is rent;
When have those knit together their small force,
The great ureox, which mightiest of all beasts.
When ye march armed, go up, with shielded breasts,
To battle; having, only, fear, towards death,
Not, by proud deeds, to merit a new life!
This said, drave forth that vates, in shrill chariot;
He would not dwell, what though all cry, Carvilios!
For straitened, in this journey, is his breast
To come to Mona's holy oracle.
Not loosely arrayed! Is not, of one small stone,
Scattered much sand? of many wolves, is rent;
When have those knit together their small force,
The great ureox, which mightiest of all beasts.
When ye march armed, go up, with shielded breasts,
To battle; having, only, fear, towards death,
Not, by proud deeds, to merit a new life!
This said, drave forth that vates, in shrill chariot;
He would not dwell, what though all cry, Carvilios!
For straitened, in this journey, is his breast
To come to Mona's holy oracle.
In Mona arrived, the noble bard all gifts
Uphangs, which he received, in the god's porch;
His arms, also, and gold-bright Gaulish harness.
Purged then, with certain herbs, Carvilios sleeps,
Upon the splayed hide of his sacrifice;
One of those steeds, he vowed, which drew his chariot.
That night he sees, in dream, strange images,
Of diverse beasts, which drive, tumultuous,
In the sea-flood, to sweet sound of his harp,
From far West part, whereo'er lies land of Erinn.
Uphangs, which he received, in the god's porch;
His arms, also, and gold-bright Gaulish harness.
Purged then, with certain herbs, Carvilios sleeps,
Upon the splayed hide of his sacrifice;
One of those steeds, he vowed, which drew his chariot.
That night he sees, in dream, strange images,
Of diverse beasts, which drive, tumultuous,
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From far West part, whereo'er lies land of Erinn.
His dream interpret thus, divining druids;
After the several names, of birds and beasts;
Be those Cruithni, pictured tribes of Erinn.
But when Carvilios set his face, to pass,
The gulf, they warn his hardy enterprise;
Painting the salvage customs of the isle,
And sudden tempests of Vergivian seas!
After the several names, of birds and beasts;
Be those Cruithni, pictured tribes of Erinn.
But when Carvilios set his face, to pass,
The gulf, they warn his hardy enterprise;
Painting the salvage customs of the isle,
And sudden tempests of Vergivian seas!
Fame is, that mothers wont, their babes, in Erinn,
To feed, of spear-point, which hath slain a man.
Warriors, in battle, lap their enemies' gore.
Nor those know use of bread, nor to sow grain:
Wild worts are their most sustenance and raw flesh.
And such should hap, find strangers, on their coast,
Cast, shipwrecked; unto Cromm, (black idol-stone,)
Their custom is, them bind, for sacrifice,
To die, when the day's god! But, all that sun,
Their children shoot, at them, with shafts and darts.
Yet, for all this, faints not Carvilios' heart,
In his stern breast; but, at the vates' word,
Weaving frail wattles, his disciples made
A bark; and it o'erdight, with hides of steeds;
That to blue Noden, lord of this sea-deep,
And Mona's god, Carvilios offered up.
And were those twain; for all the rest went back.
To feed, of spear-point, which hath slain a man.
Warriors, in battle, lap their enemies' gore.
Nor those know use of bread, nor to sow grain:
Wild worts are their most sustenance and raw flesh.
And such should hap, find strangers, on their coast,
Cast, shipwrecked; unto Cromm, (black idol-stone,)
Their custom is, them bind, for sacrifice,
To die, when the day's god! But, all that sun,
Their children shoot, at them, with shafts and darts.
Yet, for all this, faints not Carvilios' heart,
In his stern breast; but, at the vates' word,
Weaving frail wattles, his disciples made
A bark; and it o'erdight, with hides of steeds;
That to blue Noden, lord of this sea-deep,
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And were those twain; for all the rest went back.
They put from shore; and loosing soon the land,
Did set, for sail, the bard's blue broidered weed,
With silver stars: and row their palms, for oars.
They meat, nor drink, bear, on this perilous voyage.
But magic hymn Carvilios loud intones,
To lay, to sleep, the spirits of all wild winds;
Save that from Britain's land, which softly blows.
Did set, for sail, the bard's blue broidered weed,
With silver stars: and row their palms, for oars.
They meat, nor drink, bear, on this perilous voyage.
But magic hymn Carvilios loud intones,
To lay, to sleep, the spirits of all wild winds;
Save that from Britain's land, which softly blows.
On them, falls golden slumber, from the gods.
And were they three, which sleep, the little mast,
Around; whereon there hangs Carvilios' harp:
On whose shrill wires, low-warbeling, plays the wind.
And flocking sea-mews, with their hoar-blue wings,
Do waft the skiff; and guide their beaks to land.
And were they three, which sleep, the little mast,
Around; whereon there hangs Carvilios' harp:
On whose shrill wires, low-warbeling, plays the wind.
And flocking sea-mews, with their hoar-blue wings,
Do waft the skiff; and guide their beaks to land.
And was the after-morrow of that day,
When they put forth, that, at Belinda's mouth,
Where stands Iberion's temple, giant son,
Of Belin sun-god, slide the ebbing waves,
Back, from their keel, which strands. But they, a-land;
Lifting, as from long dream, their heavy eyes,
Behold go sheep-flocks, trooping, on green bent;
And grassy hill, which people's multitude,
Stand round; as did those hear some dooms of druids.
When they put forth, that, at Belinda's mouth,
Where stands Iberion's temple, giant son,
Of Belin sun-god, slide the ebbing waves,
Back, from their keel, which strands. But they, a-land;
Lifting, as from long dream, their heavy eyes,
Behold go sheep-flocks, trooping, on green bent;
And grassy hill, which people's multitude,
Stand round; as did those hear some dooms of druids.
They foot set forth, then, on those pebble brinks;
And bear their bark, betwixt them, up, on strand:
But, in that, rise up, yelling, shock-haired wights,
Horrid of aspect; and that levelled spears,
Do gainst them shake, which in their violent hands.
And those are naked, save that iron hoops,
Their middles gird. They cry, with hideous throat,
Out on them; and whilst those, for dread, not speak,
With writhen withies, knit, behind their backs,
Their wrists; and gin towards that doom-hill, them hale!
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But, in that, rise up, yelling, shock-haired wights,
Horrid of aspect; and that levelled spears,
Do gainst them shake, which in their violent hands.
And those are naked, save that iron hoops,
Their middles gird. They cry, with hideous throat,
Out on them; and whilst those, for dread, not speak,
With writhen withies, knit, behind their backs,
Their wrists; and gin towards that doom-hill, them hale!
Howbe, repressed, through reverence of his looks,
Like to one of the gods, they loosed Carvilios.
But he, despised their cries and salvage mood;
Took in his hand, that stilled their brutish minds,
His ivory harp of Gaul, of heavenly sound;
And to doom-seat, he leads them, himself, forth.
Where, lo, long yellow-haired, like flower of broom,
That people's king sits, upright, on wild stone;
Unto whose middle raught, (which girded is,
With sheen large hoop of gold,) his royal beard:
His cheek as any fox-glove red. Stand brehons
And lords, their kings around; and the land's druids.
Mongst whom, seen, women-brehons, in long stoles,
Of shining line; and with much yellow lawn,
Wounden their long hair-locks. A brehon-wife
Quoth, Suppliants of the god, I see, approach!
And do thou them, I read, O king, none hurt.
Like to one of the gods, they loosed Carvilios.
But he, despised their cries and salvage mood;
Took in his hand, that stilled their brutish minds,
His ivory harp of Gaul, of heavenly sound;
And to doom-seat, he leads them, himself, forth.
Where, lo, long yellow-haired, like flower of broom,
That people's king sits, upright, on wild stone;
Unto whose middle raught, (which girded is,
With sheen large hoop of gold,) his royal beard:
His cheek as any fox-glove red. Stand brehons
And lords, their kings around; and the land's druids.
Mongst whom, seen, women-brehons, in long stoles,
Of shining line; and with much yellow lawn,
Wounden their long hair-locks. A brehon-wife
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And do thou them, I read, O king, none hurt.
Who bring the bards, rude keepers of that strand,
Spake, Lord, these strangers, in their little bark,
We found, now, yonder, tide-cast on your coast.
That king asks counsel of his priests; and, erst,
Of one Maelunni, (Servant-of-the-Bronze,
A glaive this nation worship, as a god:)
Wight strangely adorned. Like divinister, is
His chamfered forehead, with quaint humlocks, bound;
His collar, rings and bracelets be pierced stones;
And, from his iron belt, hang, lo, flint knife-stones.
And only is of the wildness of earth's ground,
This druid's meat, (suppled with flame, and seethed,
Somewhiles, with milk,) lean worts, of field and wood,
Morel, wake-robin, earth-nuts, digged by night;
Heath-berries, black and blue; in winter, mast
And acorns parched; and such like wretchedness,
Wherein scant nourishment. But burns, in his breast,
An high discerning spirit of Erinn's gods.
Spake, Lord, these strangers, in their little bark,
We found, now, yonder, tide-cast on your coast.
That king asks counsel of his priests; and, erst,
Of one Maelunni, (Servant-of-the-Bronze,
A glaive this nation worship, as a god:)
Wight strangely adorned. Like divinister, is
His chamfered forehead, with quaint humlocks, bound;
His collar, rings and bracelets be pierced stones;
And, from his iron belt, hang, lo, flint knife-stones.
And only is of the wildness of earth's ground,
This druid's meat, (suppled with flame, and seethed,
Somewhiles, with milk,) lean worts, of field and wood,
Morel, wake-robin, earth-nuts, digged by night;
Heath-berries, black and blue; in winter, mast
And acorns parched; and such like wretchedness,
Wherein scant nourishment. But burns, in his breast,
An high discerning spirit of Erinn's gods.
Quoth Maelunni, Come these men, gods' guests;
We may them do none hurt. Then Palador spake,
For thus the king, king of Ivernis old,
Is named. Them loose! For theirs, if any smite
Them, be his life. But thou, which seemest some bard,
And bearest so constant noble countenance,
Thy kindred read; and wherefore thy frail voyage:
But look, and thou not lie before the gods.
Thus spake the king, and called to him up one,
Can Britons' speech declare, and the Gauls' tongue.
We may them do none hurt. Then Palador spake,
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Is named. Them loose! For theirs, if any smite
Them, be his life. But thou, which seemest some bard,
And bearest so constant noble countenance,
Thy kindred read; and wherefore thy frail voyage:
But look, and thou not lie before the gods.
Thus spake the king, and called to him up one,
Can Britons' speech declare, and the Gauls' tongue.
Answered, with melody of the bards, Carvilios;
And sware, by Palador the king's high right hand,
And by the Dagda, that they, suppliants, sailed,
To this, Sun's, isle, from Mona's sacred shore.
So took his harp, with ivory of the whale's tooth,
Inlaid: and quoth Carvilios, how, from Gaul,
Beyond the Ictian sea, he fared to Britain;
Calling all kings, to venge him of strange nation;
Men name them Romans, which the world oppress.
Those entered Gaul, with armies, there, have slain
The people; and seized the land their heritage.
And those prepare them, soon, to invade Britain;
Which won, their bridge should be to enter Erinn;
That Romans name the Less or Second Britain.
So ceased his chant; and troubled was their mood.
And sware, by Palador the king's high right hand,
And by the Dagda, that they, suppliants, sailed,
To this, Sun's, isle, from Mona's sacred shore.
So took his harp, with ivory of the whale's tooth,
Inlaid: and quoth Carvilios, how, from Gaul,
Beyond the Ictian sea, he fared to Britain;
Calling all kings, to venge him of strange nation;
Men name them Romans, which the world oppress.
Those entered Gaul, with armies, there, have slain
The people; and seized the land their heritage.
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Which won, their bridge should be to enter Erinn;
That Romans name the Less or Second Britain.
So ceased his chant; and troubled was their mood.
Sith, in dark speech, Carvilios hymn unfolds,
Of the day-god, known only to few druids:
How, sprung of womb of the Eternal Night;
Whence, daily, he, highest new-born god, upmounts,
Shaking his amber locks, and breathes sweet breath,
O'er plains of the low world. The virgin hours,
Before him, tracing, on their silver feet,
Open wide gates of heaven, where he doth pass.
In their cloud-chariots, wont, against him, ride,
Then envious spirits of the misty murk.
But when, from his hot looks, those flee dispersed,
Rejoice again, all dwellers in the earth.
On heaven's steep hill, ascends the glorious path,
Of Belin's steeds. High-riding, the sun-god,
The sounds, melodious, falling from his harp,
Recomfort the two worlds, of men and gods.
Of the day-god, known only to few druids:
How, sprung of womb of the Eternal Night;
Whence, daily, he, highest new-born god, upmounts,
Shaking his amber locks, and breathes sweet breath,
O'er plains of the low world. The virgin hours,
Before him, tracing, on their silver feet,
Open wide gates of heaven, where he doth pass.
In their cloud-chariots, wont, against him, ride,
Then envious spirits of the misty murk.
But when, from his hot looks, those flee dispersed,
Rejoice again, all dwellers in the earth.
On heaven's steep hill, ascends the glorious path,
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The sounds, melodious, falling from his harp,
Recomfort the two worlds, of men and gods.
O'er heaven's wide-shining bent, thou, all day, speedest,
On fiery wheels, drawn of immortal steeds.
And we, Lord, on thee, call, before all gods,
A lord of flocks; and not to sere our grass.
To midday, come, we pray thee ripe our corn.
And when clothed, angry, in thy purple weed,
Thou battle join'st with the dark welken powers,
Give rain: but us defend, with thy vast targe,
From hail. Come, to the dim world's vaulted brinks,
Where water thy tired steeds, sink thy bright wheels,
Below earth's round, and compass of sea billows:
And seemest thou, then, to die into the night;
Who, daily-born, art eldest of the gods!
But we, on whom, lies spread night's misty murk,
As thou wert dead, then wait, lord, with cold hearts,
And magic chant, beside thine altar-hearths,
Neath stars, thy new uprising, from the East.
On fiery wheels, drawn of immortal steeds.
And we, Lord, on thee, call, before all gods,
A lord of flocks; and not to sere our grass.
To midday, come, we pray thee ripe our corn.
And when clothed, angry, in thy purple weed,
Thou battle join'st with the dark welken powers,
Give rain: but us defend, with thy vast targe,
From hail. Come, to the dim world's vaulted brinks,
Where water thy tired steeds, sink thy bright wheels,
Below earth's round, and compass of sea billows:
And seemest thou, then, to die into the night;
Who, daily-born, art eldest of the gods!
But we, on whom, lies spread night's misty murk,
As thou wert dead, then wait, lord, with cold hearts,
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Neath stars, thy new uprising, from the East.
Priests of the Sun, from the doom-hill, descended,
With Maelunni; and they, embrace the man,
And lead to Palador: and caused Palador, king,
That bard of Gaul to sit, at his right hand!
And Palador sent out young men, to his folds,
Among the hills, and to his royal bawns;
With charge, (for ransom of these strangers' blood,)
Drive hither, a white bull; and two young rams,
Which should his fellows, also, loose from death.
And turned those victims' heads, on the left hand,
Towards setting sun; when the day's sacred light
Decays, they shall, to Eserg, sacrifice.
With Maelunni; and they, embrace the man,
And lead to Palador: and caused Palador, king,
That bard of Gaul to sit, at his right hand!
And Palador sent out young men, to his folds,
Among the hills, and to his royal bawns;
With charge, (for ransom of these strangers' blood,)
Drive hither, a white bull; and two young rams,
Which should his fellows, also, loose from death.
And turned those victims' heads, on the left hand,
Towards setting sun; when the day's sacred light
Decays, they shall, to Eserg, sacrifice.
Then uprose Palador; and from that green hill,
Descended, calls those bards: who now towards
Ivernis old, nigh-builded in green plain,
Their way gan hold. Is that the royal rath,
Fenced with paled banks and dyke; and there-amidst,
Wide mound, whereon stands builded the lord's house.
Follow loud throngs, with them, king Palador forth.
Descended, calls those bards: who now towards
Ivernis old, nigh-builded in green plain,
Their way gan hold. Is that the royal rath,
Fenced with paled banks and dyke; and there-amidst,
Wide mound, whereon stands builded the lord's house.
Follow loud throngs, with them, king Palador forth.
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The weary strangers eat, at eve, roast flesh,
In the king's hall: but eat the men of Erinn,
The raw, after their guise, and without bread.
Druids, which in the bowels of sacrifices,
Have looked, Carvilios, then, with oak-leaves, crowned.
Took Palador the wreathed gold, from off his neck,
Made, like to serpent, with her little ones;
And decks that vates, who the battle rage,
Chants, after the meat-space. He, sith, appoints,
Noble young men, convey this stranger bard,
Unto all princes' courts, in wide Isle Erinn.
In the king's hall: but eat the men of Erinn,
The raw, after their guise, and without bread.
Druids, which in the bowels of sacrifices,
Have looked, Carvilios, then, with oak-leaves, crowned.
Took Palador the wreathed gold, from off his neck,
Made, like to serpent, with her little ones;
And decks that vates, who the battle rage,
Chants, after the meat-space. He, sith, appoints,
Noble young men, convey this stranger bard,
Unto all princes' courts, in wide Isle Erinn.
At tiding of the death of king Cunobelin,
The sire Manannan was repaired to Britain,
Man half-divine; and whom, had lent the gods,
Unto the world. Dim Mona, of sire Manannan,
Is foster-soil; but now his wont is dwell,
In winter season, at Caer Verulam,
With king Cunobelin, called the Sire of Britain.
There stands, at ford of Ver, by the wayside,
Timbered of lime and stone, his goodly house,
Great-built, as a king's court; for the receipt
Of poor and strangers: and therein he hath,
Uphanged, his golden hauberk, far-renowned;
That tooth of bronze, nor bit of steel, may pierce.
The sire Manannan was repaired to Britain,
Man half-divine; and whom, had lent the gods,
Unto the world. Dim Mona, of sire Manannan,
Is foster-soil; but now his wont is dwell,
In winter season, at Caer Verulam,
With king Cunobelin, called the Sire of Britain.
There stands, at ford of Ver, by the wayside,
Timbered of lime and stone, his goodly house,
Great-built, as a king's court; for the receipt
Of poor and strangers: and therein he hath,
Uphanged, his golden hauberk, far-renowned;
That tooth of bronze, nor bit of steel, may pierce.
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Master of traffic, was his honoured place,
In the king's hall, next to Cunobelin's seat.
And asked the king, in every cause of weight,
His sentence, first, were it of war or peace,
Before the princes of his royal house:
And reverence him all Britons, as a god.
Grey are his eyes, like the steep winter waves,
And like the snow, on Eryr's top, his hairs.
And whilst, the island kings his read observe,
O'er Britons, may prevail none enemies.
In the king's hall, next to Cunobelin's seat.
And asked the king, in every cause of weight,
His sentence, first, were it of war or peace,
Before the princes of his royal house:
And reverence him all Britons, as a god.
Grey are his eyes, like the steep winter waves,
And like the snow, on Eryr's top, his hairs.
And whilst, the island kings his read observe,
O'er Britons, may prevail none enemies.
His thought, like Belin's wheel, runs through the world.
Far marts he knows and paths, of merchandise,
In many realms; and nations' tongues and laws;
And reason of men's hearts, hope, truth and malice;
And his sea-way, to steer, by the lode-stars.
And in the heavens' vicissitudes, if the sire,
Fell in some peril, or of thieves or robbers,
His wisdom him delivered, with small loss.
Far marts he knows and paths, of merchandise,
In many realms; and nations' tongues and laws;
And reason of men's hearts, hope, truth and malice;
And his sea-way, to steer, by the lode-stars.
And in the heavens' vicissitudes, if the sire,
Fell in some peril, or of thieves or robbers,
His wisdom him delivered, with small loss.
To nations, was Manannan wont to trade,
Far off, whose name comes seldom to men's ears;
To inhuman seats of Scythia, the cold,
Wain-dwellers, and milk-nourished of their mares;
Where twilight all by day: and to a Land
Of women-warriors, drawing crooked bows.
And reached, by sea, he was, to strange Phœnice,
(Cities, mongst palms, which stand, on furthest shore,
Full of their ships, of that blue Midland Deep;)
For merchandise of purple cloth and glass.
So had Manannan gotten substance, more
Than the most kings; which now, with both his hands,
He enlarges, to this people, as his heirs;
For hath the sire, and he is old, no sons.
His long-keel, wide-renowned, is the Red-Mare,
Swift as grey running wave, in the North wind;
Whose flight might match a chariot's course, in shore.
This then, with his bond-servants, he outsends;
To gather tidings, by the windy seas.
Far off, whose name comes seldom to men's ears;
To inhuman seats of Scythia, the cold,
Wain-dwellers, and milk-nourished of their mares;
Where twilight all by day: and to a Land
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And reached, by sea, he was, to strange Phœnice,
(Cities, mongst palms, which stand, on furthest shore,
Full of their ships, of that blue Midland Deep;)
For merchandise of purple cloth and glass.
So had Manannan gotten substance, more
Than the most kings; which now, with both his hands,
He enlarges, to this people, as his heirs;
For hath the sire, and he is old, no sons.
His long-keel, wide-renowned, is the Red-Mare,
Swift as grey running wave, in the North wind;
Whose flight might match a chariot's course, in shore.
This then, with his bond-servants, he outsends;
To gather tidings, by the windy seas.
Kings, now, in all South Britain, prepare war.
The glades reek, in fair Kent, of Andred Forest;
Whose broad shaws sound, with travaillous multitude,
Hewers of oaks. Many, in dripping delves,
Burrow, and see no sun. Are burners, some,
Of coal; some couch crude ores, of iron, with lime.
The glades reek, in fair Kent, of Andred Forest;
Whose broad shaws sound, with travaillous multitude,
Hewers of oaks. Many, in dripping delves,
Burrow, and see no sun. Are burners, some,
Of coal; some couch crude ores, of iron, with lime.
And there, on hundred stithies, loudly beat,
By soughing bellows, many famous smiths.
They weld red-hot iron bars, they turn with tongs;
And smite, again! with valiant cunning hands.
Blades of blue steel they labour, long broad-swords,
And cast, in water-troughs, out, heads of spears.
And oft those call on Brigit! whilst they sweat.
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They weld red-hot iron bars, they turn with tongs;
And smite, again! with valiant cunning hands.
Blades of blue steel they labour, long broad-swords,
And cast, in water-troughs, out, heads of spears.
And oft those call on Brigit! whilst they sweat.
Warlord of Britain, royal Togodumnos,
Now, to all neighbour kings and chief estates,
His message sends, by prince Caratacus:
With whom there pomp shall ride, of shining chariots,
And heralds; and the word-wise sire Manannan,
In whose breast breathed is wisdom of a god;
And to whom are men affied, in every coast.
He, with the prince, stands, lo, in royal chariot,
Bearing bright ivory whip, when they drive forth.
Now, to all neighbour kings and chief estates,
His message sends, by prince Caratacus:
With whom there pomp shall ride, of shining chariots,
And heralds; and the word-wise sire Manannan,
In whose breast breathed is wisdom of a god;
And to whom are men affied, in every coast.
He, with the prince, stands, lo, in royal chariot,
Bearing bright ivory whip, when they drive forth.
Where then, they come, to hall of any lord;
And Caradoc hath said forth, the sire persuades;
Proffering wise word of reverend fatherhood.
These days, are silent all debate and strife,
Before that instant coming of the Romans!
And Caradoc hath said forth, the sire persuades;
Proffering wise word of reverend fatherhood.
These days, are silent all debate and strife,
Before that instant coming of the Romans!
They, erst, arrive in merchant Troynovant;
Where makes them feast the father of Marunus,
Cadern, o'er warlike wights, who palsied rules.
To Caer Calleva, of swart Segontorix,
They, sith, arrive. Thence journeying, with fresh steeds;
They Caer Went left, on their nigh hand; that eve,
Lodge, in the Sun's great plain, at Sorbiodunum.
Where makes them feast the father of Marunus,
Cadern, o'er warlike wights, who palsied rules.
To Caer Calleva, of swart Segontorix,
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They Caer Went left, on their nigh hand; that eve,
Lodge, in the Sun's great plain, at Sorbiodunum.
Through march, then, of sea-dwelling Durotriges,
They drave; and bridle draw, at Moridunion,
Old city at the sea-waves, of generous Golam;
And with him, three days, rest. Thence, they to Isca,
Ascend and tarry a se'nnight with Duneda.
They drave; and bridle draw, at Moridunion,
Old city at the sea-waves, of generous Golam;
And with him, three days, rest. Thence, they to Isca,
Ascend and tarry a se'nnight with Duneda.
Leaving Caer Isca; they, through wilds, on steeds,
Now ride; to visit far Belerion nation;
Whose hill-set dune, which sacred to the sun,
Stands walled of the sea-waves. Yet, at ebb tide,
They dry-foot pass. A people of strange speech;
And Decet is their warlike lord, who feast,
For Caradoc makes, and lords of Togodumnos.
Now ride; to visit far Belerion nation;
Whose hill-set dune, which sacred to the sun,
Stands walled of the sea-waves. Yet, at ebb tide,
They dry-foot pass. A people of strange speech;
And Decet is their warlike lord, who feast,
For Caradoc makes, and lords of Togodumnos.
Thence they, towards Dobuni, now, by Mendip, speed;
Whose kings, to Catuvelaunian royal house,
Are nigh of kin. Sith, streaming Hafren passed;
They, to that other Venta, of swart Silurians,
Come; where Moelmabon, Lord of Deheubarth,
(Britons' West march,) with his five warlike sons,
They find, already, marshall thick caterfs.
Whose kings, to Catuvelaunian royal house,
Are nigh of kin. Sith, streaming Hafren passed;
They, to that other Venta, of swart Silurians,
Come; where Moelmabon, Lord of Deheubarth,
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They find, already, marshall thick caterfs.
Caradoc, there, waits king Idhig, seven days;
Who warlike rules, o'er neighbour Demetans:
And, each eve, for Cunobelin's son, makes feast,
One of the warlike sons of Moelmabon;
And all give ear, to wisdom of Manannan.
Who warlike rules, o'er neighbour Demetans:
And, each eve, for Cunobelin's son, makes feast,
One of the warlike sons of Moelmabon;
And all give ear, to wisdom of Manannan.
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