 | The Dawn in Britain |  |
All sleep the hostile hosts, in both the camps.
Slumber, for weariness, lo, the Roman guard,
Even as they stand, upleaning on their spears.
Only the legate wakes, that, with few dukes,
Takes counsel; how might they win Verulam:
Since, soon, must corn be measured, to the soldiers:
Nor yet, unto their ears, comes, that sails Claudius,
From Gaul, with new supplies of men and victual.
Slumber, for weariness, lo, the Roman guard,
Even as they stand, upleaning on their spears.
Only the legate wakes, that, with few dukes,
Takes counsel; how might they win Verulam:
Since, soon, must corn be measured, to the soldiers:
Nor yet, unto their ears, comes, that sails Claudius,
From Gaul, with new supplies of men and victual.
Day dawning, Aulus sends forth certain Gaul,
One Laismor, wide-named for his great voice,
Like brazen trump, to publish, to blue Britons;
He would, that were observed, on both their parts,
A day of truce, for pious funerals.
One Laismor, wide-named for his great voice,
Like brazen trump, to publish, to blue Britons;
He would, that were observed, on both their parts,
A day of truce, for pious funerals.
Thereto sent heralds, to the enemies' vallum,
His answer made the sire Caratacus,
On this wise: Britons so much of their earth
Concede to Romans, as suffice to hide,
From the sun's eye, might their slain carcases.
He Britons' lord and king; in his own house,
For aught that he should do, of none, asks license.
He Romans grants, for this day, pause of arms;
And to call guests, (name sacred, mongst all Britons,)
Abhorréd soldiers! Send, then, each camp, forth,
Thousand unarmed, to gather in their dead;
Till this sun sets. Witness his truth the gods.
His answer made the sire Caratacus,
On this wise: Britons so much of their earth
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From the sun's eye, might their slain carcases.
He Britons' lord and king; in his own house,
For aught that he should do, of none, asks license.
He Romans grants, for this day, pause of arms;
And to call guests, (name sacred, mongst all Britons,)
Abhorréd soldiers! Send, then, each camp, forth,
Thousand unarmed, to gather in their dead;
Till this sun sets. Witness his truth the gods.
| The Dawn in Britain | |