 | The Dawn in Britain |  |
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.
| The Dawn in Britain | |