The Dawn in Britain :: :: University of Virginia Library

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.

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!

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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.

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.