 | The Dawn in Britain |  |
Yet sped not all of those bold Esterlings.
A pirate keel mishapped, of fifty rowers:
In whose long dragon-stem, o'ergraven with runes,
Hight Sigefugl, a Roman beak pight fast.
Running, with three-square sail, other longship,
Like courser, that takes bit betwixt his teeth,
Reaved of the wind, fell on that pirate-board;
And brake, even to the staves, her bank of oars
Seemed then, with opened seams, that keel should sink;
Nor holp runes, graven on their rudder-blades,
Of victory, which should save the ship from loss.
A pirate keel mishapped, of fifty rowers:
In whose long dragon-stem, o'ergraven with runes,
Hight Sigefugl, a Roman beak pight fast.
Running, with three-square sail, other longship,
Like courser, that takes bit betwixt his teeth,
Reaved of the wind, fell on that pirate-board;
And brake, even to the staves, her bank of oars
Seemed then, with opened seams, that keel should sink;
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Of victory, which should save the ship from loss.
Hurled Sigemund, the ship's earl, his renowned spear,
Knit on a thong, that never swerved before,
Hight Sigegar. It smote on the helmed front,
Of Ælianus, a captain of fleet-soldiers,
Fellow of Massa; who, in Rome, whilere,
Was master of a school of gladiators.
Knit on a thong, that never swerved before,
Hight Sigegar. It smote on the helmed front,
Of Ælianus, a captain of fleet-soldiers,
Fellow of Massa; who, in Rome, whilere,
Was master of a school of gladiators.
Fell Ælian down, astonished, as one slain;
Whence kindled Massa, who his fellow sworn,
Banning the pirates' barbare gods and Fortune
Invoking of great Rome; he, in their keel,
Leapt, without targe; and furious onset made;
Wielding two swords, with mastery of fence,
And skill of stroke. And Massa eftsoon pierced
(Though many, round him, their tough shields had cast,)
With that in his right hand, the Scandian lord,
Pirate of immense stature and huge force;
Who in scale-armour closed, that shines like ice!
With whom, he wrestling; flung then, with foot-cast,
Him backlong; and his targe, (smirched with his blood,
Which he, gainst him, upheld,) he cleft, with glaive;
And carved his gorge. He, Sigemund, shield-swain, sith;
And Segrim, steersman, slew: and were they of those
Which had them borne, o'er-proudly, at Camulodunum.
Whence kindled Massa, who his fellow sworn,
Banning the pirates' barbare gods and Fortune
Invoking of great Rome; he, in their keel,
Leapt, without targe; and furious onset made;
Wielding two swords, with mastery of fence,
And skill of stroke. And Massa eftsoon pierced
(Though many, round him, their tough shields had cast,)
With that in his right hand, the Scandian lord,
Pirate of immense stature and huge force;
Who in scale-armour closed, that shines like ice!
With whom, he wrestling; flung then, with foot-cast,
Him backlong; and his targe, (smirched with his blood,
Which he, gainst him, upheld,) he cleft, with glaive;
And carved his gorge. He, Sigemund, shield-swain, sith;
And Segrim, steersman, slew: and were they of those
Which had them borne, o'er-proudly, at Camulodunum.
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Rent Romans down their war-keel's gilded ensigns:
And Massa, (slain tall thanes which it defended,)
Took, then, those pirates' raven-standard, Tufa!
And yet the Almains' champions and boats' carles,
In the steer-stem, fight, for their lives, gainst Romans;
Though darts rain, on them, of two Roman ships.
And Massa, (slain tall thanes which it defended,)
Took, then, those pirates' raven-standard, Tufa!
And yet the Almains' champions and boats' carles,
In the steer-stem, fight, for their lives, gainst Romans;
Though darts rain, on them, of two Roman ships.
But seen their lord and Segrim, slain, and Tufa
Is taken; and how are fallen their strongest champions,
In the forestem; the pirates their life-days,
Like unto cable-roll outloost, that hangs,
All-ready, on a ship's pin; perceive now ended.
They may not choose, but sup, to-night, with Ran,
Under the billows blue. The creeky shores,
Of their own coast, their eyes, the forelands fair,
No more; nor Britain's rime-white cliffs, may view.
Is taken; and how are fallen their strongest champions,
In the forestem; the pirates their life-days,
Like unto cable-roll outloost, that hangs,
All-ready, on a ship's pin; perceive now ended.
They may not choose, but sup, to-night, with Ran,
Under the billows blue. The creeky shores,
Of their own coast, their eyes, the forelands fair,
No more; nor Britain's rime-white cliffs, may view.
Disdaining sue that barbare folk, for life,
Wherein they, which were freeborn, should live thralls:
Intoned loud chant, to the Alfather Woden;
They, all sudden, from broad belts, pluckt blades, at once,
In furious sort, with these, themselves did pierce!
They, then, thus dying, heapmeal glide and start,
Like bloody take of herrings, in the water;
Leaving opinion of their barbare worth,
To soldiers that admire, still, with pale faces!
Wherein they, which were freeborn, should live thralls:
Intoned loud chant, to the Alfather Woden;
They, all sudden, from broad belts, pluckt blades, at once,
In furious sort, with these, themselves did pierce!
They, then, thus dying, heapmeal glide and start,
Like bloody take of herrings, in the water;
Leaving opinion of their barbare worth,
To soldiers that admire, still, with pale faces!
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Whilst those thus perish, with inrushing wave;
Surging, (like funeral mound!) lo, long grey billow,
The pirate snake-keel reels, under those Romans!
That hasten, to their longship, turn aboard.
Founders Sigefugl; and Massa, in the abysm,
And most who with him, in war-shining arms,
Sink! He brays horribly; and spuming his fierce mouth,
Buffets, with force, the sliding brine, a moment,
But for all Romans might, with quonts and hooks,
And strife of oars, they could not Massa save!
Surging, (like funeral mound!) lo, long grey billow,
The pirate snake-keel reels, under those Romans!
That hasten, to their longship, turn aboard.
Founders Sigefugl; and Massa, in the abysm,
And most who with him, in war-shining arms,
Sink! He brays horribly; and spuming his fierce mouth,
Buffets, with force, the sliding brine, a moment,
But for all Romans might, with quonts and hooks,
And strife of oars, they could not Massa save!
Almains draw off. And when the ships of charge,
Whereof the most were scattered, and some lost,
Assembled be again, to Cæsar's fleet,
Claudius, vext with continual flux of heart;
Seen now the dreadful rover sails, at length,
Sink under wave-brow of vast horizont,
Though little, yet, sun's burning wheel dismounts;
From middle-height, gan, for his wine-cup, call;
Drinks mulse, and gives commandment, Set on meat.
Whereof the most were scattered, and some lost,
Assembled be again, to Cæsar's fleet,
Claudius, vext with continual flux of heart;
Seen now the dreadful rover sails, at length,
Sink under wave-brow of vast horizont,
Though little, yet, sun's burning wheel dismounts;
From middle-height, gan, for his wine-cup, call;
Drinks mulse, and gives commandment, Set on meat.
| The Dawn in Britain | |