 | The Dawn in Britain |  |
And, lo, queen Cartismandua is come again,
With war-song, and loud vaunt of her young men;
And spoil of arms, and bloody polls of Romans!
And, from their camps, all Britons, where they pass,
Clapping their hands, those young Brigantine warriors
Applaud! In this, they plash through shallow ford,
Of streaming Colne; and go up, where their ward,
Is, under gate of Camulus, to lodge.
With war-song, and loud vaunt of her young men;
And spoil of arms, and bloody polls of Romans!
And, from their camps, all Britons, where they pass,
Clapping their hands, those young Brigantine warriors
Applaud! In this, they plash through shallow ford,
Of streaming Colne; and go up, where their ward,
Is, under gate of Camulus, to lodge.
Druids have warned, which read the sacred omens,
The island-kings, to fight, in this day's sun;
Wherefore, left their teamed carts, without, they sit
To watch, on Camulus' toweréd gate: and thence
Those new great camps behold of sea-borne soldiers;
The tower-machines, and strange huge buffle-elephants!
Which druids deemed, some river-gods of Rome.
The island-kings, to fight, in this day's sun;
Wherefore, left their teamed carts, without, they sit
To watch, on Camulus' toweréd gate: and thence
Those new great camps behold of sea-borne soldiers;
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Which druids deemed, some river-gods of Rome.
And seen that come not legions, but they rest,
In four-square vallum; captains of the Britons
Contain their warriors, in the camps at Colne.
Blue Britons, chanting, whet, on wild whin-stones,
Glaives, and broad brazen heads of their long spears.
Some fret, at fires, and supple sinewed bows.
Pasture, with much white grain, the charioteers,
Beside the carts, and comb their long-maned steeds.
In four-square vallum; captains of the Britons
Contain their warriors, in the camps at Colne.
Blue Britons, chanting, whet, on wild whin-stones,
Glaives, and broad brazen heads of their long spears.
Some fret, at fires, and supple sinewed bows.
Pasture, with much white grain, the charioteers,
Beside the carts, and comb their long-maned steeds.
Bare-footed, brazen-girt, in vestures white,
Now druids offer solemn sacrifice,
Of beasts, with gilded horns, to battle-gods:
To whom they vow all preys. (Soothsayers, priests,
Are those, whose foaming bloody mouths, the flesh
Of victims chaw; and who yond sacred fires
O'erleap; and that chant magic spells!) Till eve,
None certain answer have vouchsafed the gods.
Last, kings departing, in the evening red;
Each turns, with heavy heart, to his caterfs.
Now druids offer solemn sacrifice,
Of beasts, with gilded horns, to battle-gods:
To whom they vow all preys. (Soothsayers, priests,
Are those, whose foaming bloody mouths, the flesh
Of victims chaw; and who yond sacred fires
O'erleap; and that chant magic spells!) Till eve,
None certain answer have vouchsafed the gods.
Last, kings departing, in the evening red;
Each turns, with heavy heart, to his caterfs.
Two ravens stooped, then, from the twilight loft;
And, on stiff creaking wings, the camps o'erflit.
Wrying their carrion necks, with serpents' eyes,
They surview Britons, that to sup now sit.
Then, on war-wain, they lighted; with crude beaks,
And crooked claws, each other rend to blood.
And, on stiff creaking wings, the camps o'erflit.
Wrying their carrion necks, with serpents' eyes,
They surview Britons, that to sup now sit.
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And crooked claws, each other rend to blood.
Are war-hags those, whose impious carrion breath,
Doth taint the evening wind. To gore-swart cloud,
Forerunner of murk night, which nigheth fast,
They called have Wrath; who, fame is, once burned heaven:
(Wherefore him thunder-thrilled the gods, and cast,
To earth;) him promising, to-morrow, drink,
(To slake his entrails' ever-burning thirst,)
His fill, much reek of young men's lukewarm blood.
Doth taint the evening wind. To gore-swart cloud,
Forerunner of murk night, which nigheth fast,
They called have Wrath; who, fame is, once burned heaven:
(Wherefore him thunder-thrilled the gods, and cast,
To earth;) him promising, to-morrow, drink,
(To slake his entrails' ever-burning thirst,)
His fill, much reek of young men's lukewarm blood.
In place, where sinks sun's chariot down, to light
The under-world, in crooked valley-steeps,
Like to some monstrous newt, mongst blind black rocks,
Exiled from heaven's fair face, sleeps demon Wrath.
Sprawling, enrolled in long loose spotted boughts;
There, in swart tide, his train, for boiling sweat,
He hangs. Drips venim from his poisonous jaws;
And like black stinking reek, ascends his breath.
There his loath maw, he thrings, twixt two sharp cliffs;
And else his carrion snaky ribs should burst,
For cankered hate, and swelling inward fret.
Leaving the scaly horror of his corse,
Then, on those drossy banks, expired his spirit,
Uprose, in the moist winds, the damnéd fiend.
The under-world, in crooked valley-steeps,
Like to some monstrous newt, mongst blind black rocks,
Exiled from heaven's fair face, sleeps demon Wrath.
Sprawling, enrolled in long loose spotted boughts;
There, in swart tide, his train, for boiling sweat,
He hangs. Drips venim from his poisonous jaws;
And like black stinking reek, ascends his breath.
There his loath maw, he thrings, twixt two sharp cliffs;
And else his carrion snaky ribs should burst,
For cankered hate, and swelling inward fret.
Leaving the scaly horror of his corse,
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Uprose, in the moist winds, the damnéd fiend.
Britons feel grow then lean their warlike breasts.
Men sit, at watchfires, with distempered looks;
Some blame their captains, in the war with Romans:
Some, desperate, plain them even of the land's gods!
Britons sore dread, what shall betide to-night.
Neath their long shields men lie; and cannot sleep.
Men sit, at watchfires, with distempered looks;
Some blame their captains, in the war with Romans:
Some, desperate, plain them even of the land's gods!
Britons sore dread, what shall betide to-night.
Neath their long shields men lie; and cannot sleep.
The warlord calls, anew, on Camulus' walls,
The kings to council. But come Cartismandua;
She scornful queen, now, on her lord, so rails,
(Though all eyes her upbraid,) that ache men's ears:
As strings, being toucht amiss, alwere the harp
Of gold, mis-sound. And Gorran vainly, then,
Mingles new mead, and noble youth bear round;
Mongst Briton kings, descended from the gods.
Amidst the council, rose up and went forth,
Then, from among them, the Brigantine queen.
The kings to council. But come Cartismandua;
She scornful queen, now, on her lord, so rails,
(Though all eyes her upbraid,) that ache men's ears:
As strings, being toucht amiss, alwere the harp
Of gold, mis-sound. And Gorran vainly, then,
Mingles new mead, and noble youth bear round;
Mongst Briton kings, descended from the gods.
Amidst the council, rose up and went forth,
Then, from among them, the Brigantine queen.
| The Dawn in Britain | |