 | The Dawn in Britain |  |
Now dies the evening red, on those cold waves,
Which compass in, Isle, crowned with long white cliffs,
Our foster-Britain. Glooming soon the skies,
I, (quoth the Muse,) saw in vast gore-swart cloud;
Whose cliffs like pearl, and towers as shining gold;
On thrones, that seemed of crystal, azure, made,
Sit demon shapes. Lord, Taran, of the lightning,
In highest place: then woad-stained Camulus.
Upon the counter-part, sate Nerth and Taith,
Unto whom wont Britons mere-stones dedicate,
God of all paths, and leader of the dead;
And Nemeton, hag, whose hellish spell can turn
The hearts of men, to wolves, in warlike field.
Which compass in, Isle, crowned with long white cliffs,
Our foster-Britain. Glooming soon the skies,
I, (quoth the Muse,) saw in vast gore-swart cloud;
Whose cliffs like pearl, and towers as shining gold;
On thrones, that seemed of crystal, azure, made,
Sit demon shapes. Lord, Taran, of the lightning,
In highest place: then woad-stained Camulus.
Upon the counter-part, sate Nerth and Taith,
Unto whom wont Britons mere-stones dedicate,
God of all paths, and leader of the dead;
And Nemeton, hag, whose hellish spell can turn
The hearts of men, to wolves, in warlike field.
Sit lesser war-gods, round those misty walls;
Bran, helmed; and Caradoc, leaned on blood-stained targe,
And divine arms. Gods, without voice! discourse,
(Save wind-gods murmured, on that murky floor,)
With looking only of their glowing eyes.
They reason of the war toward, with Romans;
Wherein they shall contend, with Latin gods.
Bran, helmed; and Caradoc, leaned on blood-stained targe,
And divine arms. Gods, without voice! discourse,
(Save wind-gods murmured, on that murky floor,)
With looking only of their glowing eyes.
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Wherein they shall contend, with Latin gods.
Is dog-faced Hesus, porter of the gods,
Without, keeps ward. Lean, girt in filthy clouts,
To their cloud-hall, would enter Pestilence;
But Hesus her debars, whose carrion breath,
Would all infect, and grieve even demon-gods.
A cup she bare, betwixt her loathly claws;
Wherein, now, baleful mixture poured the fiend;
Even plagues which thee o'erhang, fair warlike Britain!
Without, keeps ward. Lean, girt in filthy clouts,
To their cloud-hall, would enter Pestilence;
But Hesus her debars, whose carrion breath,
Would all infect, and grieve even demon-gods.
A cup she bare, betwixt her loathly claws;
Wherein, now, baleful mixture poured the fiend;
Even plagues which thee o'erhang, fair warlike Britain!
Then I beheld, towards Head of white-cliffed Kent;
And saw, dark effigied, in dim twilight cloud,
Great flying shadow! Comes, manslaying demon,
Now dread Abaddon, from the Gaulish main:
(Was he which breathed sedition, in the legions!)
And saw, dark effigied, in dim twilight cloud,
Great flying shadow! Comes, manslaying demon,
Now dread Abaddon, from the Gaulish main:
(Was he which breathed sedition, in the legions!)
Would slay our island-Gauls, this homicide fiend.
And as, oft-times, we bleak-sheen, in the sun,
Some crow see shine; at first blench, this might seem
Angel of light! Lighted, on cliff; to him,
(Falls, in whose shadow, blight and extreme curse!)
Resort the Isle's dark gods. Erst, horrid Math,
Britons' tremendous, impious, god of death:
(Can all gods not hold back his dread iron hand!)
The Morrigu then, crowned with a waning moon;
(Is she night-riding queen of murderers;)
With Clothru and horrible Ethne, in her train:
Whom follow, hag-born, burden of the night,
Dim, bat-like, flittering brood of aery spirits;
Whose power increaseth, in the evening mists,
As day's light wanes. Abaddon, demon, shines,
With peacock feathers, full of glorious eyes,
Mongst them a moment; that incline their heads.
And as, oft-times, we bleak-sheen, in the sun,
Some crow see shine; at first blench, this might seem
Angel of light! Lighted, on cliff; to him,
(Falls, in whose shadow, blight and extreme curse!)
Resort the Isle's dark gods. Erst, horrid Math,
Britons' tremendous, impious, god of death:
(Can all gods not hold back his dread iron hand!)
The Morrigu then, crowned with a waning moon;
(Is she night-riding queen of murderers;)
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Whom follow, hag-born, burden of the night,
Dim, bat-like, flittering brood of aery spirits;
Whose power increaseth, in the evening mists,
As day's light wanes. Abaddon, demon, shines,
With peacock feathers, full of glorious eyes,
Mongst them a moment; that incline their heads.
Yet, for all his great looks and lofty port,
Of pride, presumptuous, crooked festering corse
Is the Fiend's substance! (dread corruption drops,
And loathly worms,) of murdered wicked wight,
Whom buried beetles, in 'lone cankered grove.
None other flesh, (for greater power, to-night,
Him lets; it is great Albion's, in the earth!)
Might the man-slaying demon-angel take;
Who, puffed-up that foul carcase, rose therewith.
Of pride, presumptuous, crooked festering corse
Is the Fiend's substance! (dread corruption drops,
And loathly worms,) of murdered wicked wight,
Whom buried beetles, in 'lone cankered grove.
None other flesh, (for greater power, to-night,
Him lets; it is great Albion's, in the earth!)
Might the man-slaying demon-angel take;
Who, puffed-up that foul carcase, rose therewith.
He, from whose fearful eyes, hell-pangs look forth,
Prepared beholds destruction of our Isle!
Well-pleased, then, casting backward baleful looks,
Lifted his spotted wings, the immane fiend,
Returns, towards Gaul. Under his heavy flight,
Is ferment of the sea, that roars for dread.
Prepared beholds destruction of our Isle!
Well-pleased, then, casting backward baleful looks,
Lifted his spotted wings, the immane fiend,
Returns, towards Gaul. Under his heavy flight,
Is ferment of the sea, that roars for dread.
Arrived o'er legions' camps, his hellish breath,
Blows up new bubble rage. From mouth to mouth,
Then, murmur rose, Will Summer soon be wasted!
Soldiers repent, that slowness of their hearts;
Which ere a war refused, had them enriched.
They, in the moonlight, oft, for yet is night;
Look out, on that great navy in their road.
Blows up new bubble rage. From mouth to mouth,
Then, murmur rose, Will Summer soon be wasted!
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Which ere a war refused, had them enriched.
They, in the moonlight, oft, for yet is night;
Look out, on that great navy in their road.
Now, this same night, arrived, from the emperor Claudius,
Narcissus, a chief freedman of the palace.
With a great train and retinue this, from Rome,
Of cooks and varlets, the vast Alps hath passed.
Loud clarion calls, at sunrise, legionaries,
To the tribunal! they, in curule chair,
See sit one, higher than the imperial legate!
Narcissus, whose right hand holds Cæsar's rescript.
(The bill, as Claudius' face, is doubly engrossed;
That should, according to the time, be read
Rebuke or consolation.) But stout soldiers,
Anon, incensed, hearing shrill unmanned voice,
Of so base harlot, raised in their reproof!
Contemn him saying; Taints the air with unguents,
Yond piping scold! Is, (they, loud mocking, cry,)
This All-fools' day? when slaves, at masters, play.
Yond Cæsar's ribald, king of minstrels is!
Narcissus, a chief freedman of the palace.
With a great train and retinue this, from Rome,
Of cooks and varlets, the vast Alps hath passed.
Loud clarion calls, at sunrise, legionaries,
To the tribunal! they, in curule chair,
See sit one, higher than the imperial legate!
Narcissus, whose right hand holds Cæsar's rescript.
(The bill, as Claudius' face, is doubly engrossed;
That should, according to the time, be read
Rebuke or consolation.) But stout soldiers,
Anon, incensed, hearing shrill unmanned voice,
Of so base harlot, raised in their reproof!
Contemn him saying; Taints the air with unguents,
Yond piping scold! Is, (they, loud mocking, cry,)
This All-fools' day? when slaves, at masters, play.
Yond Cæsar's ribald, king of minstrels is!
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A fury, amidst these taunts, their hearts invades.
To sea, to ship! men yell, tumultuous.
They run, take arms. Some, the sacellum break:
And snatcht their eagles, stretch, to them, right hands!
Returned to camps, they pluck up tents; and carriage
Bear forth. Break soldiers, headlong, with great voice,
To shore; and loud invoke the blue sea-gods.
Who foremost, from the shelving strand, launch out,
What barks they find. Some row, to hulls of charge;
Some climb, confusedly, the longships, aboard.
This dures, till afternoon; to night, then, holds:
Nor any stays to sup. Wide-shines the moon,
Nigh to her full, on spring-flood; and them gives,
Large light, to sea. Dukes hasty counsel take.
To sea, to ship! men yell, tumultuous.
They run, take arms. Some, the sacellum break:
And snatcht their eagles, stretch, to them, right hands!
Returned to camps, they pluck up tents; and carriage
Bear forth. Break soldiers, headlong, with great voice,
To shore; and loud invoke the blue sea-gods.
Who foremost, from the shelving strand, launch out,
What barks they find. Some row, to hulls of charge;
Some climb, confusedly, the longships, aboard.
This dures, till afternoon; to night, then, holds:
Nor any stays to sup. Wide-shines the moon,
Nigh to her full, on spring-flood; and them gives,
Large light, to sea. Dukes hasty counsel take.
Soldiers, with wings of horse, of Flavius' legion,
Would sally, against them, which tumultuous, thus,
Inship. But, asked his sentence, great Vespasian
Responds to Aulus; Impulse is, methinks,
Come on the them, from the gods. Were reason use
The occasion; and now overpass, to Britain!
Would sally, against them, which tumultuous, thus,
Inship. But, asked his sentence, great Vespasian
Responds to Aulus; Impulse is, methinks,
Come on the them, from the gods. Were reason use
The occasion; and now overpass, to Britain!
Aulus bade sound out clarions! he commands;
That all which mounted on shipboard, descend,
Again, to land; that ordered they, aright,
Were in their several cohorts. Whilst the legate,
Yet spake, springs merry wind. Men mainsails hoise;
And, lo, from Gaul's shore, borne forth Roman navy!
That all which mounted on shipboard, descend,
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Were in their several cohorts. Whilst the legate,
Yet spake, springs merry wind. Men mainsails hoise;
And, lo, from Gaul's shore, borne forth Roman navy!
| The Dawn in Britain | |