The Dawn in Britain by Charles M. Doughty |
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 | The Dawn in Britain |  |
Pass tardy, in Britain, these erst summer weeks.
In every commote and in every lathe,
Assemble, each new moon, the land's armed youth,
To their lords' courts, for warlike exercises.
All lie down, nightly, on their shields and arms.
Now days of heat; but Romans come not yet!
Spies bring in word, then, of the lord Manannan;
From sea, of new sedition, mongst the legions.
In every commote and in every lathe,
Assemble, each new moon, the land's armed youth,
To their lords' courts, for warlike exercises.
All lie down, nightly, on their shields and arms.
Now days of heat; but Romans come not yet!
Spies bring in word, then, of the lord Manannan;
From sea, of new sedition, mongst the legions.
Nor, yet, comes Thorolf; who hath homely wars,
Against his father's foes, on the Fast-land.
Nor yet were seen, breasting the cold wave-rows,
The pirates' keels: for lord is dead, king Orm,
Of the East-way; at whose high funerals,
In days, when should be parted all his wealth,
His son, Redshield, (so named, for he his targe,
In every slaughter, leading strong ship-swarms,
Wont dye, in war-gore of his enemies!)
Shall make land and sea plays, of running steeds;
And champions rowing in long dragon-ships;
And shows of the seven noble skills of warriors,
Swimming and wrestling, playing at the ball,
Climbing and javelin-cast, the dance and course
Of foot and horse; and who, with bow and shaft,
Can cleave the willow-wand: and who best make,
Riddles and weapon songs; and best record,
Playing on ivory harp, in prince's hall,
Glorious war-deeds of old. And for Redshield,
Should precious meeds divide, with a large hand;
Gather, to him, from every coast, longships.
Against his father's foes, on the Fast-land.
Nor yet were seen, breasting the cold wave-rows,
The pirates' keels: for lord is dead, king Orm,
Of the East-way; at whose high funerals,
In days, when should be parted all his wealth,
His son, Redshield, (so named, for he his targe,
In every slaughter, leading strong ship-swarms,
Wont dye, in war-gore of his enemies!)
Shall make land and sea plays, of running steeds;
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And shows of the seven noble skills of warriors,
Swimming and wrestling, playing at the ball,
Climbing and javelin-cast, the dance and course
Of foot and horse; and who, with bow and shaft,
Can cleave the willow-wand: and who best make,
Riddles and weapon songs; and best record,
Playing on ivory harp, in prince's hall,
Glorious war-deeds of old. And for Redshield,
Should precious meeds divide, with a large hand;
Gather, to him, from every coast, longships.
| The Dawn in Britain | |