 | The Dawn in Britain |  |
Voice raught of duke, even to the ears of Romans;
Who seemeth one nobler than the rest. In chariot,
Emailléd white, he stands; and his bright scythe-wheels,
Glister with brazen rays, like sunny beams.
Lo, where that duke draws bridle, he makes speech,
And shines his targe, before him borne, with gold:
And son is he, say Belges, of Cunobelin!
King of the royal tribe of Catuvelaunians.
Who seemeth one nobler than the rest. In chariot,
Emailléd white, he stands; and his bright scythe-wheels,
Glister with brazen rays, like sunny beams.
Lo, where that duke draws bridle, he makes speech,
And shines his targe, before him borne, with gold:
223
King of the royal tribe of Catuvelaunians.
From Verulam marched, now warlike Togodumnos,
Awaits, the coming of king Caradoc;
With whom, Icenians' power, leads Antethrigus;
And, archers of Caer Troynovant, leads Marunus.
Tiding, to the warlord, of their approach,
Is come, by shout. Sit blue, wayfaring, Britons,
Each on a wad of halm, or on his bratt,
(Their nation's guise,) armed ranks, on the fresh grass.
Naked, behold, glast-stained, above the belt,
Be all these long-haired island warriors.
Awaits, the coming of king Caradoc;
With whom, Icenians' power, leads Antethrigus;
And, archers of Caer Troynovant, leads Marunus.
Tiding, to the warlord, of their approach,
Is come, by shout. Sit blue, wayfaring, Britons,
Each on a wad of halm, or on his bratt,
(Their nation's guise,) armed ranks, on the fresh grass.
Naked, behold, glast-stained, above the belt,
Be all these long-haired island warriors.
| The Dawn in Britain | |