 | The Dawn in Britain |  |
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BOOK XVI
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ARGUMENT
Camulodunum. Morning, before battle. Cæsar, amongst his tribunes. Young Titus responds mirthfully to Claudius.
Caratacus arrays his blue caterfs. His speech to the Britons. The armies stand arrayed now, face to face. Roman elephants. Claudius admires the blue barbare host. Horsemen and runners are seen approaching on the plain; with whom Britons perceive is the bard Carvilios: come, men of Erinn. Britons intone a warlike chant of Carvilios. Warhounds of Erinn break out; and they leap upon the elephants. Scythe-carts of Parisii chace forth, and with them, run Kentish chariots. Selgovians assail the elephants. Belerions first draw-down Cæsar's war-towers. The like then do Duneda's shipfolk. Carvilios forth-rides, chanting lays of heroes and high gods. He is suddenly pierced by a shaft, in the eye-hole of his morion; and falls amidst his enemies. Battle joined; Britons at first prevail over Romans. A Recording Angel. A battle-wedge of Atrebats is seen rushing terribly in the field. Segontorix.
Verpatalos, lord of a band of Gaulish archers, with the Romans, goes over now to Britons' part: but will not those receive him, and Verpatalos is slain. Flavius leads on his legion. Many scythe-carts are taken. Trinobants then first yield ground. Caratacus yet heartens the blue Britons: but being hurt by a venimed arrow, the king faints and sinks down, in his royal chariot. Venutios, done-on the warlord's helm,
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Vellocatus, waking from his trance, hears the cries of approaching Romans. He besought then the queen, to send out his young men, warriors; in succour of the Britons. Cartismandua makes sign from the wall; and they break forth. She herself issues in war-chariot. Flavius, seen these new Britons, approaching; severs them, as they run, into two parts. Young lords of Cartismandua's bands are smitten; and the queen dismayed hastily turns her chariot. After her pursues Titus.
The city-gates are shut. The sun goes down, when Romans return from the pursuit. Claudius banquets with his tribunes. Past middle night, cometh the great Erinn host, which followed Carvilios' harp. Ith, the naked king, them leads. They halt and hear, is fallen Carvilios; and king Caratacus is slain. The Erinn men march on, to smite Carvilios' enemies. They, o'erleapt the vallum, make dread nightslaughter, in the camps of legions. Claudius fled secretly forth, from his pavilion, mounts to a war-tower, and hides himself therein. Erinn warriors break again forth from Roman castra. They find Carvilios' corse, and bury him, where he fell, in Roman blood.
On the morrow a great storm rageth till eve. Claudius rides, to view the situation of the Britons' dune. Aulus sends letters to the Longport.
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Bright Dawn, on throne of ivory and of gold,
Is mounting now, beloved of men and gods,
In purple weed; and kings under yond walls,
Harnessed, helm-clad, in battle-carts forth-ride.
Is mounting now, beloved of men and gods,
In purple weed; and kings under yond walls,
Harnessed, helm-clad, in battle-carts forth-ride.
Then the high sire, as Belisama inspired;
That none them count disparaged, this great day,
Day wherein they should fight in Camulus' view,
(One people of Samoth, gainst intruded strangers,)
Unto each assigns, by druids' sacred lot,
Which they, before the kings, had last night cast,
His place. Save only as it, by ancient right,
(Keepers of West and East March of this Isle,)
Pertains; Silures and Kent men shall hold
The wings; and midmost, Catuvelaunian nation.
That none them count disparaged, this great day,
Day wherein they should fight in Camulus' view,
(One people of Samoth, gainst intruded strangers,)
Unto each assigns, by druids' sacred lot,
Which they, before the kings, had last night cast,
His place. Save only as it, by ancient right,
(Keepers of West and East March of this Isle,)
Pertains; Silures and Kent men shall hold
The wings; and midmost, Catuvelaunian nation.
But hark; whilst Britons, to the camp of legions,
Gaze forth, speak Roman clarions a stern note.
And, lo, of bloody hew, scarlet, in grain,
On Cæsar's tent, is splayed the imperial cloak;
Token, that should, this day, be battle joined!
Gaze forth, speak Roman clarions a stern note.
And, lo, of bloody hew, scarlet, in grain,
On Cæsar's tent, is splayed the imperial cloak;
Token, that should, this day, be battle joined!
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Straight, issue cohorts, from all ports, at once:
And digged part down, part razed, of the paled work;
Lo, led now harnessed forth, huge nozzled elephants!
That seem like rocking ships, mongst trains of soldiers;
Whose painted castles full of light-armed archers,
Of strange aspect. Behold then tower-machines,
Nodding, on immane wheels, forged hardly forth;
With travial and with pain of men and elephants.
And digged part down, part razed, of the paled work;
Lo, led now harnessed forth, huge nozzled elephants!
That seem like rocking ships, mongst trains of soldiers;
Whose painted castles full of light-armed archers,
Of strange aspect. Behold then tower-machines,
Nodding, on immane wheels, forged hardly forth;
With travial and with pain of men and elephants.
Array them, in long battles, Cæsar's legions;
And Roman knights prick forth, with glittering spears.
Lo, on white Gaulish steed, where bald-pate Claudius,
Rides; to whom now obeys the world of Rome!
Aulus rides, with him; legates then of legions,
His marshals of the camp and of the horse;
And noble Asiaticus Valerius,
Who of consular state: and friend is named of Claudius.
(Is greatest this, of all that live in Rome,
In riches and dispense!) From Gaul to Britain,
He, whom the Senate sends, to wait on Claudius,
Is lately o'erpassed, in his own three-banked ship.
And Roman knights prick forth, with glittering spears.
Lo, on white Gaulish steed, where bald-pate Claudius,
Rides; to whom now obeys the world of Rome!
Aulus rides, with him; legates then of legions,
His marshals of the camp and of the horse;
And noble Asiaticus Valerius,
Who of consular state: and friend is named of Claudius.
(Is greatest this, of all that live in Rome,
In riches and dispense!) From Gaul to Britain,
He, whom the Senate sends, to wait on Claudius,
Is lately o'erpassed, in his own three-banked ship.
From Cæsar, now, his legate, Aulus, parts;
And where he comes, Fight, valiantly, he exhorts,
In the imperator's view; in whom, remit,
Lies, or else punish, fault of their revolt.
Record their antique virtue and achieve,
To-day such victory, as may end the war.
And where he comes, Fight, valiantly, he exhorts,
In the imperator's view; in whom, remit,
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Record their antique virtue and achieve,
To-day such victory, as may end the war.
And merry, in his fond mood, carps gat-toothed Claudius,
Mongst Roman captains, nodding on them fast,
His totty brow; and shows, crowned with clay dykes,
The Britons' dune, set on an hill's high breast,
With the imperial finger; and cries oft,
Ha! high-walled Ilium! and Colne-stream calls he,
Scamander! and yond clustered blue caterfs,
Teucrians; and Britons' scythe-carts, Phrygian chariots;
Whose king the Priamid blue Caratacus;
With whom Sarpedon, and some queen or goddess,
Come from a land of women-warriors.
The Oiléid, Geta is; great Ajax Telamon,
Vespasian Flavius; busy-headed Aulus,
Odysseus; Diomed-like, is this young Titus!
Mongst Roman captains, nodding on them fast,
His totty brow; and shows, crowned with clay dykes,
The Britons' dune, set on an hill's high breast,
With the imperial finger; and cries oft,
Ha! high-walled Ilium! and Colne-stream calls he,
Scamander! and yond clustered blue caterfs,
Teucrians; and Britons' scythe-carts, Phrygian chariots;
Whose king the Priamid blue Caratacus;
With whom Sarpedon, and some queen or goddess,
Come from a land of women-warriors.
The Oiléid, Geta is; great Ajax Telamon,
Vespasian Flavius; busy-headed Aulus,
Odysseus; Diomed-like, is this young Titus!
To heaven's high stars, quoth he, quaint-witted Greeks
Have overmuch extolled their little deeds,
As children reck much of their saddle-reeds,
Whose sanded towers them seem a mighty world.
Till now, have Romans sooner wanted words,
(And they shall soon want worlds!) to set theirs forth.
Who lives, he cries, were able to record
Ten-years' war-glory of Quirîtes Romans.
Were leisure, he would so great argument,
Himself entreat. Should certain letters help,
Which he, a private man, found, in his youth,
And since set forth; whereby he could endite
All barbare sounds, even these war-shouts of Britons!
Have overmuch extolled their little deeds,
As children reck much of their saddle-reeds,
Whose sanded towers them seem a mighty world.
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(And they shall soon want worlds!) to set theirs forth.
Who lives, he cries, were able to record
Ten-years' war-glory of Quirîtes Romans.
Were leisure, he would so great argument,
Himself entreat. Should certain letters help,
Which he, a private man, found, in his youth,
And since set forth; whereby he could endite
All barbare sounds, even these war-shouts of Britons!
Ache his great tribunes' ears, of Claudius' speech.
Them seems, like culver, becking on a bough,
Cæsar's white poll; and like a flickering leaf,
His maffling tongue. Is fain, this morn, fond Claudius,
To look on his proud war-wont marshalled legions.
Yet most he, in his secret, doth admire;
That Claudius is that army's imperator!
Them seems, like culver, becking on a bough,
Cæsar's white poll; and like a flickering leaf,
His maffling tongue. Is fain, this morn, fond Claudius,
To look on his proud war-wont marshalled legions.
Yet most he, in his secret, doth admire;
That Claudius is that army's imperator!
This portent of a man, in covert breast,
All mock, faint germ of great warfaring Drusus;
Who subdued barbare nations, to far Elbe.
Them thinks, that was this rightly naméd Claudius;
So his tongue halts. Impatient, wox his captains,
Before whom lies a day of strenuous fight.
All mock, faint germ of great warfaring Drusus;
Who subdued barbare nations, to far Elbe.
Them thinks, that was this rightly naméd Claudius;
So his tongue halts. Impatient, wox his captains,
Before whom lies a day of strenuous fight.
Young Titus answers, in his mirthful vein;
(Who nigh to Cæsar rides, mongst Roman knights;)
Did certes not men fight, before high Ilion!
But bladders, wine-sacs, scudding in much wind;
Unto whom each bodkin's prick was certain death.
He accounts them all not worth one Roman legion!
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Did certes not men fight, before high Ilion!
But bladders, wine-sacs, scudding in much wind;
Unto whom each bodkin's prick was certain death.
He accounts them all not worth one Roman legion!
Many a poor hunter, lion, in field or forest
Hath hardily pierced, whereof heard little vaunt,
Being wight of mean regard and barbarous: but
Had such one not Achilles haply slain?
Whom could not Hector kill. Were not, less strong,
The better of them both, than horse? or swift
Than is wild ass? What three men, leagued their force
Had not that son o'erthrown of a sea-goddess?
What Roman bestiary had not tossed his noose,
On that proud neck, for all his furious boast;
And him repressed, aye, and slain, like salvage beast?
Hath hardily pierced, whereof heard little vaunt,
Being wight of mean regard and barbarous: but
Had such one not Achilles haply slain?
Whom could not Hector kill. Were not, less strong,
The better of them both, than horse? or swift
Than is wild ass? What three men, leagued their force
Had not that son o'erthrown of a sea-goddess?
What Roman bestiary had not tossed his noose,
On that proud neck, for all his furious boast;
And him repressed, aye, and slain, like salvage beast?
Hart-swift Achilles, what though he were strong
As is a Titan, stripe yet of slung whin-stone,
Or quarrel, shot from steel-stringed Roman engine,
Methinks, had slackt his divine knees anon!
Nor Greeks used any certain discipline,
Before Troy town; more than, now, Gauls or Almains;
Men without all invention, in the wars.
Thus jests young Titus; who, with ruddy face,
Comely, straight-limbed, pricks forth, then, confident,
To the left horn, o'ergainst blue Britons' scythe-carts.
As is a Titan, stripe yet of slung whin-stone,
Or quarrel, shot from steel-stringed Roman engine,
Methinks, had slackt his divine knees anon!
Nor Greeks used any certain discipline,
Before Troy town; more than, now, Gauls or Almains;
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Thus jests young Titus; who, with ruddy face,
Comely, straight-limbed, pricks forth, then, confident,
To the left horn, o'ergainst blue Britons' scythe-carts.
But Cæsar seeing lower, hastes answer Flavius,
His father; Yet bears Titus certain scroll,
Aye, in his bosom, of that blind Homerus;
Wherein he studies wars of old Troy-town.
Is this the fountain of his noble nature!
And sings he, crowned at banquets, with fresh flowers,
Those verses of sweet sound; even in men's ears,
That skill but small of letters, of vain Greeks;
Such as himself, who homely Roman-born.
His father; Yet bears Titus certain scroll,
Aye, in his bosom, of that blind Homerus;
Wherein he studies wars of old Troy-town.
Is this the fountain of his noble nature!
And sings he, crowned at banquets, with fresh flowers,
Those verses of sweet sound; even in men's ears,
That skill but small of letters, of vain Greeks;
Such as himself, who homely Roman-born.
In presence of his foes, Caratacus
His glast-stained tribes arrays, in thick caterfs:
Wherein the valour of the great North March
And South shall vie. Are hundred seen their ensigns.
He, twixt the hosts, rides forth, with king Venutios,
Drawn of white-rushing team, in swift scythe-chariot.
His glast-stained tribes arrays, in thick caterfs:
Wherein the valour of the great North March
And South shall vie. Are hundred seen their ensigns.
He, twixt the hosts, rides forth, with king Venutios,
Drawn of white-rushing team, in swift scythe-chariot.
All Briton dukes speed, likewise, in shrill warcarts.
Where they draw rein, they hearten, with rapt speech,
Their nations, to do valiantly, as in view
Of all the army. Ride Moelmabon's sons,
Upon that further part with king Velaunos.
With Kowain Hælion drives; whom king Duneda
His son names, sith fell noble Morag slain.
Where they draw rein, they hearten, with rapt speech,
Their nations, to do valiantly, as in view
Of all the army. Ride Moelmabon's sons,
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With Kowain Hælion drives; whom king Duneda
His son names, sith fell noble Morag slain.
Right worthy prince is this, with martial face,
Who North Dumnonians rules, a kindred folk;
(Though parted, yore,) with those of fair Duffreynt.
Their aspect one, speech, shields, bright arms and ensigns:
Whence, as one people, have they joined their camps.
Is told, when travailled, of old time, Duffreynt
Famine; part of this nation, which fared forth,
Had in North parts, found seats, and livelihood.
Who North Dumnonians rules, a kindred folk;
(Though parted, yore,) with those of fair Duffreynt.
Their aspect one, speech, shields, bright arms and ensigns:
Whence, as one people, have they joined their camps.
Is told, when travailled, of old time, Duffreynt
Famine; part of this nation, which fared forth,
Had in North parts, found seats, and livelihood.
Hark! cries Caratacus: and caused his main voice,
Some aery gods, rebellow from steep clouds,
(Like flitting tents, pitcht in void element;)
If we do fail, to-day, then falls our state:
Kinsmen, expect the Roman servitude!
Be not one household, of our Briton gods,
This island's peoples. As one father's sons,
Then fight all we, gainst strange invading legions.
And ye, from your high seats, O heavenly ones,
Our fathers' gods! with shield and spears, descend,
Into this battle. Stretch, from Camulus' walls,
Our wives, and weeping babes, to us, their hands,
Beseeching, they were not made Romans' thralls!
Some aery gods, rebellow from steep clouds,
(Like flitting tents, pitcht in void element;)
If we do fail, to-day, then falls our state:
Kinsmen, expect the Roman servitude!
Be not one household, of our Briton gods,
This island's peoples. As one father's sons,
Then fight all we, gainst strange invading legions.
And ye, from your high seats, O heavenly ones,
Our fathers' gods! with shield and spears, descend,
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Our wives, and weeping babes, to us, their hands,
Beseeching, they were not made Romans' thralls!
Appeased was all contention, mongst the Britons;
For had their gods sent, with the morning breath,
Before the rising sun, an healing spirit,
Upon their camps. Then spread their swart-sheen wings,
Casting a cry, which every heart amazed,
Those hags took heavy flight. Sith, on iron cart,
Wherein flits shrouded Night, the hag-fiends ride;
To her abysmal deep, beneath the earth.
For had their gods sent, with the morning breath,
Before the rising sun, an healing spirit,
Upon their camps. Then spread their swart-sheen wings,
Casting a cry, which every heart amazed,
Those hags took heavy flight. Sith, on iron cart,
Wherein flits shrouded Night, the hag-fiends ride;
To her abysmal deep, beneath the earth.
Queen Cartismandua, in despiteful grief,
For Vellocatus, cometh then, no more, forth:
Who fights, who falls, she little recks or naught,
Nor Romans fears; her world is Vellocatus.
Lie idly encamped her power, at the town-gates.
For Vellocatus, cometh then, no more, forth:
Who fights, who falls, she little recks or naught,
Nor Romans fears; her world is Vellocatus.
Lie idly encamped her power, at the town-gates.
Stand the great armies, in long opposed ranks,
Still looking on each-other's threatful face.
Are legions confident; but wait Claudius' dukes,
That Britons see, to-day, so much increased,
Upon advantage, to spare Roman blood.
Though ready to rush forth, inconstant Britons;
Are they as tide, which wafts no certain wind.
Still looking on each-other's threatful face.
Are legions confident; but wait Claudius' dukes,
That Britons see, to-day, so much increased,
Upon advantage, to spare Roman blood.
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Are they as tide, which wafts no certain wind.
This dures, till midday of that Summer-sun:
When horsemen, on both parts, now light, from steeds.
Be seen the great towered elephants; that, like some
Swart rocks, do stand in glittering waves of bronze;
Their long snout-hands to sling, and wide lap-ears
To flag, impatient of their immense force.
When horsemen, on both parts, now light, from steeds.
Be seen the great towered elephants; that, like some
Swart rocks, do stand in glittering waves of bronze;
Their long snout-hands to sling, and wide lap-ears
To flag, impatient of their immense force.
Cerulean Britons, which, with dreadful shout,
Were wont rush, headlong, on their enemies,
Now sit on the green herb. None, from his place,
Removes in the caterfs. Dull are their hearts,
A sapless squalor creepeth in their loins;
Whom nourished hath no kindly rest, to-night.
Were wont rush, headlong, on their enemies,
Now sit on the green herb. None, from his place,
Removes in the caterfs. Dull are their hearts,
A sapless squalor creepeth in their loins;
Whom nourished hath no kindly rest, to-night.
Under a state of gold and purple cloth,
Cæsar sits shadowed, mongst Rome's shining ranks;
Whose helms with leaves are bound, for Summer heat.
Britons far-off behold, that this is Claudius!
Mongst them, the king, great-voiced Caratacus,
Lighted from chariot, midst white-stoled war-druids,
Invokes his battle-gods; Bran, Camulus,
(Whose image sheen, set o'er the dune's tower-gate,)
And heroes' spirits, Cunobelin, Togodumnos.
Choired druids begin, then, solemn battle-chant,
Intone; whereto response, with one vast throat,
Make Britons' host; wherewith, hark, shrilling note,
Of women from dune walls. And heard their gods;
That, in the island powers, infuse new force.
Then Britons clash to shields their glaives and spears!
Looks Claudius forth, on strange Britannic chariots;
Cæsar sits shadowed, mongst Rome's shining ranks;
Whose helms with leaves are bound, for Summer heat.
Britons far-off behold, that this is Claudius!
Mongst them, the king, great-voiced Caratacus,
Lighted from chariot, midst white-stoled war-druids,
Invokes his battle-gods; Bran, Camulus,
(Whose image sheen, set o'er the dune's tower-gate,)
And heroes' spirits, Cunobelin, Togodumnos.
Choired druids begin, then, solemn battle-chant,
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Make Britons' host; wherewith, hark, shrilling note,
Of women from dune walls. And heard their gods;
That, in the island powers, infuse new force.
Then Britons clash to shields their glaives and spears!
And in the plain, still, in his wavering thought,
Sees city of Priamos, sees blue Hellespont:
Then trembles he; and quakes his various heart.
Yond countenance of fierce nations, he admires;
Whose shields, like painted doors, before their breasts.
Seem sea-gods' children, yond blue-painted warriors!
Long yellow-haired, tall and great limbed, as Almains.
He would, of such, he might conscribe a legion!
Aye, and this will he do; and them, also, send,
(When Isle Britannia won,) to wars of Rome!
And Claudius drew his tablets forth, anon;
As that he somewhat would endite; and questions,
With knights, (come in from field,) and libertines.
Erst seen of women, which man Camulus' walls,
Is powderous cloud, o'er the hot champaign wide;
As rolling smoke, ascending to the gods:
To Britons, in the plain, seems cattle-droves.
Romans fear coming of new glast-stained nation.
Is powderous cloud, o'er the hot champaign wide;
As rolling smoke, ascending to the gods:
To Britons, in the plain, seems cattle-droves.
Romans fear coming of new glast-stained nation.
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Sith, those, not many horsemen, are discerned;
With mingled runners, wavering on the plain:
And scouring on, before them, battle-hounds,
Of Erinn kind, renowned for force and stature;
That two might break the neck of a wild bull.
Now Britons all perceive the bard Carvilios,
That with them rides; and hail, with infinite throat!
On shining wheels, to meet him, kings outride.
With mingled runners, wavering on the plain:
And scouring on, before them, battle-hounds,
Of Erinn kind, renowned for force and stature;
That two might break the neck of a wild bull.
Now Britons all perceive the bard Carvilios,
That with them rides; and hail, with infinite throat!
On shining wheels, to meet him, kings outride.
Comes, powdered, lo, with dust of their long voyage,
Carvilios, mongst strange pictured wights from Erinn;
Isle of derne altars of the dying sun.
Mother of heroes, seed of the god Dagda:
Pricket, on whose flesh, beasts' and birds' images,
Are seen; and limned the like on their broad shields.
An army of foot-folk, after these, rush on.
Carvilios, mongst strange pictured wights from Erinn;
Isle of derne altars of the dying sun.
Mother of heroes, seed of the god Dagda:
Pricket, on whose flesh, beasts' and birds' images,
Are seen; and limned the like on their broad shields.
An army of foot-folk, after these, rush on.
Hark, a new shout of glast-stained nations' throats!
Which rising, in their ranks, intone vast chant,
Known to all Britons; and which bard Carvilios,
Had made, in that long year before the war;
Chanting from court to court, from hall to hall.
When, on your hills, ye see smoke warning fires;
And hearken, through the land, calling her sons,
The battle-trump, with bloody mouth, to arms:
Leap-up! young warriors, gather from all hearths.
Which rising, in their ranks, intone vast chant,
Known to all Britons; and which bard Carvilios,
Had made, in that long year before the war;
Chanting from court to court, from hall to hall.
When, on your hills, ye see smoke warning fires;
And hearken, through the land, calling her sons,
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Leap-up! young warriors, gather from all hearths.
Before you, armed, shall go your battle-gods.
And when, in field, ye, with the foemen, meet,
Stand with pressed shield to shield, and fellowed feet,
To feet, a strong pale-wall of valorous breasts,
In stedfast ranks. None, from his band, thrust forth,
To vaunt his several valour, without fence
Of harness, gainst bronze-sharded Roman soldiers.
And when, in field, ye, with the foemen, meet,
Stand with pressed shield to shield, and fellowed feet,
To feet, a strong pale-wall of valorous breasts,
In stedfast ranks. None, from his band, thrust forth,
To vaunt his several valour, without fence
Of harness, gainst bronze-sharded Roman soldiers.
Shall like entunéd music, in your ears,
Of harps and reeds, at feasts and altar-fires,
Sound bloody, immane, confused, dread battle-noise,
Of smitten shields, twixt striving opposed fronts,
Yelling of infinite throats, to men and gods;
Shrill axe-trees, neighing of fierce steeds, the shout
Of dukes, hoarse trumps; strange mighty cry of legions!
Of harps and reeds, at feasts and altar-fires,
Sound bloody, immane, confused, dread battle-noise,
Of smitten shields, twixt striving opposed fronts,
Yelling of infinite throats, to men and gods;
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Of dukes, hoarse trumps; strange mighty cry of legions!
Not only stands, in brightness of his arms,
A warrior's praise; he, valorous, covets wounds,
Bove bracelets and ring-gold. And when with scars,
Adorned, in public feast, he leads the dance;
Him maidens praise, men envy in their hearts;
Honour old men of war his glorious youth.
Worship and dignity, unto such, accrue;
To their lives' end, with heritage of name,
Unto their children. How much better were,
Young warrior fall upon his comely face,
Amidst his fellows, on his war-bruised targe,
Than, void of honour, scape, from field, with life!
Him heroes old shall, in the underworld,
Last, to their glorious fellowship, receive.
A warrior's praise; he, valorous, covets wounds,
Bove bracelets and ring-gold. And when with scars,
Adorned, in public feast, he leads the dance;
Him maidens praise, men envy in their hearts;
Honour old men of war his glorious youth.
Worship and dignity, unto such, accrue;
To their lives' end, with heritage of name,
Unto their children. How much better were,
Young warrior fall upon his comely face,
Amidst his fellows, on his war-bruised targe,
Than, void of honour, scape, from field, with life!
Him heroes old shall, in the underworld,
Last, to their glorious fellowship, receive.
What time, with adverse ensigns, ye rush on;
Whereon, with flittering wings, sit gods of death;
Like as the bolt, ye were, of thundering Taran;
Be rage of famished wolves, in your fierce breasts:
As their sharp teeth, the iron and bitter bronze,
Which in your violent hands. Under your shields,
Like wild bulls, leap your bodies' matchless force.
Whereon, with flittering wings, sit gods of death;
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Be rage of famished wolves, in your fierce breasts:
As their sharp teeth, the iron and bitter bronze,
Which in your violent hands. Under your shields,
Like wild bulls, leap your bodies' matchless force.
Those warhounds, venting then strange sent of elephants;
Have burst their leashes, with resistless force!
They, now, deep-baying, scour betwixt the armies.
Then cry rose up of thousands, on both parts.
Some Erinn hounds pierce slight Numidic shafts!
The remnant raging forth, with open throats,
On those huge nozzled beasts, leap, twixt their tusks;
And, with their sharp claws, rend, and snatch with teeth,
Their leathern flanks. Those bellowing, and waxed mad,
Their castles hurl; and Afric soldiers cast.
Some founder, some roll, furious, in the field;
Some turned, confound the orders of their legions.
They tread down men. Enforced were some centurions,
Shout to their soldiers; The beasts' bellies pierce!
Those sink; and yell to heaven, cerulean Britons!
Have burst their leashes, with resistless force!
They, now, deep-baying, scour betwixt the armies.
Then cry rose up of thousands, on both parts.
Some Erinn hounds pierce slight Numidic shafts!
The remnant raging forth, with open throats,
On those huge nozzled beasts, leap, twixt their tusks;
And, with their sharp claws, rend, and snatch with teeth,
Their leathern flanks. Those bellowing, and waxed mad,
Their castles hurl; and Afric soldiers cast.
Some founder, some roll, furious, in the field;
Some turned, confound the orders of their legions.
They tread down men. Enforced were some centurions,
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Those sink; and yell to heaven, cerulean Britons!
That seen, Parisii chace forth, in swift scythe-carts,
Of iron. Vie with them, Cantion's noble youth.
On Romans, fallen, with full career of chariots;
They enter hardily, in breaches of the legions;
And reap their hook-wheels bloody swathe of soldiers:
Gainst whom, from yoke-trees, on their painted beams,
Running, they hurl down iron sleet of javelins;
And on the elephants; being gored whose chines,
(Wherein, stand Britons' darts now, thick as grass,)
Lo, like some strange huge urchins, tower aloft.
Of iron. Vie with them, Cantion's noble youth.
On Romans, fallen, with full career of chariots;
They enter hardily, in breaches of the legions;
And reap their hook-wheels bloody swathe of soldiers:
Gainst whom, from yoke-trees, on their painted beams,
Running, they hurl down iron sleet of javelins;
And on the elephants; being gored whose chines,
(Wherein, stand Britons' darts now, thick as grass,)
Lo, like some strange huge urchins, tower aloft.
Shrink, from before their burning wheels, whole cohorts.
Men fallen and wounded, loud lament beneath.
Soldiers yell, Dogs devour them! in whom force,
More than a man's, upleaping on their shields.
Men fallen and wounded, loud lament beneath.
Soldiers yell, Dogs devour them! in whom force,
More than a man's, upleaping on their shields.
Behold Selgovians, running, on their part,
Gainst the elephants rangéd, on that league-wide face
Of legions. Of those snout-head immane beasts,
Some swerve, some, wounded, hurl their girded towers.
Gainst the elephants rangéd, on that league-wide face
Of legions. Of those snout-head immane beasts,
Some swerve, some, wounded, hurl their girded towers.
Those hunters, leaping on the monstrous beasts,
That trémble and some ones, lo, are fallen to knee;
Do, lightly, as children, from their painted holds,
Pluck forth those tawny strange Numidian wights;
And hurl, with death-wounds, down, or break their bones.
They, with long hunting-knives, of hard-ridged bronze,
The nerve do thrill of the huge elephants' napes;
That founder, slain, in sight of the two armies.
Britons smite hands, exulting, and their shields!
That trémble and some ones, lo, are fallen to knee;
Do, lightly, as children, from their painted holds,
Pluck forth those tawny strange Numidian wights;
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They, with long hunting-knives, of hard-ridged bronze,
The nerve do thrill of the huge elephants' napes;
That founder, slain, in sight of the two armies.
Britons smite hands, exulting, and their shields!
Fast follow, (fenced their flanks of squadroned warcarts,)
Bearing, on shoulders, ladders, swart Belerions.
Under long moon-shields, these, in sleet of shafts,
Reared up their stairs, to Roman towered machines,
The rungs, lo, nimble as squirrels, now, upmount!
Bearing, on shoulders, ladders, swart Belerions.
Under long moon-shields, these, in sleet of shafts,
Reared up their stairs, to Roman towered machines,
The rungs, lo, nimble as squirrels, now, upmount!
What though, of Decet's warriors, many an one,
Tumbles by javelin pierced, back, without life;
Yet some in-fixt and hammered, have, iron hooks;
Wherethrough reeve, other, cables; which, drawn up;
Hundred thereon, and hundred, strong arms heaving;
They make those towers, eftsoon, to nod, to stoop;
To oversway: they fall, with ruin great,
And dreadful death of all within them, Romans!
Tumbles by javelin pierced, back, without life;
Yet some in-fixt and hammered, have, iron hooks;
Wherethrough reeve, other, cables; which, drawn up;
Hundred thereon, and hundred, strong arms heaving;
They make those towers, eftsoon, to nod, to stoop;
To oversway: they fall, with ruin great,
And dreadful death of all within them, Romans!
Yond, Kowain's ship-folk likewise, under shields,
Armed their stout hands, with grapples, cords and bills,
(Them Labraid leads,) war-towers, to them, opposed,
Assail; and, with sharp iron, hew axe-trees huge;
Whereon should roll, upon their timbered wheels,
Those mighty storied frames. Other up-hurled,
(Though shafts, though stones hail on their targets, lifted
Above their heads,) have ship-gaffs, whose sharp beaks
Hold fast. They heaving then, by companies, with
A loud raised shipmen's chant; make rock, lean, reel,
The staged war-towers; that last their valiant hands
Do overthrow! Rose cry of dying Romans!
Nathless, durst cohorts' soldiers not their ordinance
Break, in face of swift squadrons of shrill scythe-carts.
Armed their stout hands, with grapples, cords and bills,
(Them Labraid leads,) war-towers, to them, opposed,
Assail; and, with sharp iron, hew axe-trees huge;
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Those mighty storied frames. Other up-hurled,
(Though shafts, though stones hail on their targets, lifted
Above their heads,) have ship-gaffs, whose sharp beaks
Hold fast. They heaving then, by companies, with
A loud raised shipmen's chant; make rock, lean, reel,
The staged war-towers; that last their valiant hands
Do overthrow! Rose cry of dying Romans!
Nathless, durst cohorts' soldiers not their ordinance
Break, in face of swift squadrons of shrill scythe-carts.
Helm-clad, on startling steed of Gaul, outrides
Crowned, (king Cunobelin's gift,) with gilt oak-leaves,
And Gaulish shining mails, on his large breast,
Behold that noble warrior bard Carvilios,
Chanting loud lay of heroes and high gods!
Crowned, (king Cunobelin's gift,) with gilt oak-leaves,
And Gaulish shining mails, on his large breast,
Behold that noble warrior bard Carvilios,
Chanting loud lay of heroes and high gods!
Then pause men fight, for he upholdeth glaive!
Carvilios, with loud voice, hark, curseth Romans.
Cleaved sudden the air Numidic scudding arrow:
It thrilled the eye-hole of the hero's morion!
Nathless, not turned aback that noble bard,
His dying face: but pricking fast, on steed,
He falls, now, amidst his thick-ranged enemies!
Carvilios, with loud voice, hark, curseth Romans.
Cleaved sudden the air Numidic scudding arrow:
It thrilled the eye-hole of the hero's morion!
Nathless, not turned aback that noble bard,
His dying face: but pricking fast, on steed,
He falls, now, amidst his thick-ranged enemies!
Britons do set their teeth, to avenge Carvilios;
As each should wreak him, for his father's son;
And who, of all their kings, was public guest.
Erst Trinobants, the people of Camulus, whose
Is yond great dune; when, from their toweréd walls,
They see how women, all ungirt their paps,
And loost down their long comely locks, stretch forth,
To them their palms and lift their little ones!
No longer wait for sign, from the warlord;
Who, in far field, from tribe to tribe, swift rides,
In glittering chariot, mongst the blue caterfs:
But straight, as by impulsion of some god,
They break forth, shouting, like to rushing flood.
As each should wreak him, for his father's son;
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Erst Trinobants, the people of Camulus, whose
Is yond great dune; when, from their toweréd walls,
They see how women, all ungirt their paps,
And loost down their long comely locks, stretch forth,
To them their palms and lift their little ones!
No longer wait for sign, from the warlord;
Who, in far field, from tribe to tribe, swift rides,
In glittering chariot, mongst the blue caterfs:
But straight, as by impulsion of some god,
They break forth, shouting, like to rushing flood.
The royal tribe of Catuvelaunian Britons,
That next them stand, in vast array of shields,
Whom Iddon this day leads, advance then foot.
Carvilios! (is their cry,) Cunobelin's guest.
Would they, from Romans, save Carvilios' corse.
Shout Roman soldiers, of the opposed legions;
Which running hurl their darts. Come to hand-strokes,
Britons, like billows, fall on plate-clad soldiers.
They rent, with fierce tough hands, down, Roman shields:
Their gorge, with bronze-head heavy spears, invade.
That next them stand, in vast array of shields,
Whom Iddon this day leads, advance then foot.
Carvilios! (is their cry,) Cunobelin's guest.
Would they, from Romans, save Carvilios' corse.
Shout Roman soldiers, of the opposed legions;
Which running hurl their darts. Come to hand-strokes,
Britons, like billows, fall on plate-clad soldiers.
They rent, with fierce tough hands, down, Roman shields:
Their gorge, with bronze-head heavy spears, invade.
Assail Silures, and stout sons of Kent,
At once, both wings of Romans and allies.
Make head renowned Brigantes, with thick powers.
Rush mainly and battle join, with dreadful cries,
Demetans and Durotriges, Ordovices,
And Coritavians, whom Velaunos leads.
Leads on king Hælion North and South Dumnonians:
With whom Icenians, new caterfs and war-carts,
Valorous bands of young warriors; that in fight,
As those their kings, now follow Hiradoc.
They áll hurl on the Romans' triple ordinance!
At once, both wings of Romans and allies.
Make head renowned Brigantes, with thick powers.
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Demetans and Durotriges, Ordovices,
And Coritavians, whom Velaunos leads.
Leads on king Hælion North and South Dumnonians:
With whom Icenians, new caterfs and war-carts,
Valorous bands of young warriors; that in fight,
As those their kings, now follow Hiradoc.
They áll hurl on the Romans' triple ordinance!
Prevailed, on the two wings, erst, stern Silures,
And men of Kent. The middle have enforced
Warriors of stature, royal Catuvelaunians.
Howbe their duke, whose warlike youth renowned;
(When his swift feet could outrun three-horsed warcarts,)
Now, sitting, rides, in chariot; and uneath
The hero's palsied hands the supple reins
May hold of his fierce steeds. In rushing wind,
Hover his wintered locks. Joys Iddon lead,
Gainst legions of invading Rome; (yet green
His heart,) in field of glory, his young men.
And men of Kent. The middle have enforced
Warriors of stature, royal Catuvelaunians.
Howbe their duke, whose warlike youth renowned;
(When his swift feet could outrun three-horsed warcarts,)
Now, sitting, rides, in chariot; and uneath
The hero's palsied hands the supple reins
May hold of his fierce steeds. In rushing wind,
Hover his wintered locks. Joys Iddon lead,
Gainst legions of invading Rome; (yet green
His heart,) in field of glory, his young men.
Return, which erst brake through, Brigantine scythecarts,
And seem, with iron glittering wings, those rush,
On wavering Romans' backs; (like as in days,
Of peace, we see an hen, for her young birds,
Leap smiting, with her feathers, beak and claws.)
Whom follow that great trimarch of the North;
Which darts cast then on hindward of the legions.
And seem, with iron glittering wings, those rush,
On wavering Romans' backs; (like as in days,
Of peace, we see an hen, for her young birds,
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Whom follow that great trimarch of the North;
Which darts cast then on hindward of the legions.
Beholding red-haired Taran and fierce-eyed
Andates, and man-slaying Camulus,
And comely Belinus, who, the archer-god;
Is, next to Camulus, the shield of Britons,
(Nor yet, in field, seen Fortune of great Rome;
Which leads even gods, as children, by the hand,)
Britons' proud deeds rejoice their divine breasts.
And marked the valour of each duke, record
They, from what loins he sprung. Are Roman arms,
Bet back, on every part, and staggering legions.
And Cæsar hasted mount to steed; whom saved
Seemed hardly his body, amidst thick squadroned horse,
And strength of knights and stout Batavians.
Andates, and man-slaying Camulus,
And comely Belinus, who, the archer-god;
Is, next to Camulus, the shield of Britons,
(Nor yet, in field, seen Fortune of great Rome;
Which leads even gods, as children, by the hand,)
Britons' proud deeds rejoice their divine breasts.
And marked the valour of each duke, record
They, from what loins he sprung. Are Roman arms,
Bet back, on every part, and staggering legions.
And Cæsar hasted mount to steed; whom saved
Seemed hardly his body, amidst thick squadroned horse,
And strength of knights and stout Batavians.
The gods, to thee, give, great Caratacus,
This glory, in recompense, that henceforth is lost
Thy kingdom. Rumbles, with the myriad-tread,
The sod, of warriors; whose long opposed ranks,
Be like to wrestling waves, that fall in blood.
Seems the immense bosom of the element,
Shudder, to heaven, with mortals' confused noise.
This glory, in recompense, that henceforth is lost
Thy kingdom. Rumbles, with the myriad-tread,
The sod, of warriors; whose long opposed ranks,
Be like to wrestling waves, that fall in blood.
Seems the immense bosom of the element,
Shudder, to heaven, with mortals' confused noise.
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And, quoth the Muse; An heaven-descended One,
I saw, above the battle-rage; and kneeled,
In a white mist, he, on his knees, and leaned,
On his bright wings! and he recorded names
Of all war-murdered ones, Britons and Romans!
I saw, above the battle-rage; and kneeled,
In a white mist, he, on his knees, and leaned,
On his bright wings! and he recorded names
Of all war-murdered ones, Britons and Romans!
Comes the warlord, with triple rushing team.
As shard, cast of strong pulse, o'erscuds sea-waves,
Such Caradoc's leaping wheels seem and winged warcart.
Standing, the sire, aloft, in battle-chariot;
Some war-god seems. Raging, by him, in fight,
The hero of the North, Venutios, rides.
Demon of death, Dis, snatcht each flying shaft,
In the flit air, or dart of his, doth pierce
Some chief one, of blue Britons' enemies.
As shard, cast of strong pulse, o'erscuds sea-waves,
Such Caradoc's leaping wheels seem and winged warcart.
Standing, the sire, aloft, in battle-chariot;
Some war-god seems. Raging, by him, in fight,
The hero of the North, Venutios, rides.
Demon of death, Dis, snatcht each flying shaft,
In the flit air, or dart of his, doth pierce
Some chief one, of blue Britons' enemies.
Riding, from tribe to tribe, from duke to duke,
With great voice, Caradoc heartens blue caterfs.
And now he sends forth all that rest of chariots;
Them Beichiad guides. Those ruin on the cohorts,
Of Aulus' left wing: hurling they, as tempest,
Ranks overthrow; and bray them in the dust!
With great voice, Caradoc heartens blue caterfs.
And now he sends forth all that rest of chariots;
Them Beichiad guides. Those ruin on the cohorts,
Of Aulus' left wing: hurling they, as tempest,
Ranks overthrow; and bray them in the dust!
Immense new shout! seen, rushing from South part,
Armed men, in field, are Belges by their shields.
Is Cunoglas, lord of old royal house;
Plough-wise, with valour of a god, them leads!
His helm is braided steel, his hauberk plate,
Of proof, inlaid, with floweréd Gaulish work.
He the head; the ribs are stoutest Belges' champions:
For like long row-ship, smitten forth of oars,
On bloody waves, those break the battle-press.
Armed men, in field, are Belges by their shields.
Is Cunoglas, lord of old royal house;
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His helm is braided steel, his hauberk plate,
Of proof, inlaid, with floweréd Gaulish work.
He the head; the ribs are stoutest Belges' champions:
For like long row-ship, smitten forth of oars,
On bloody waves, those break the battle-press.
But turned again, from their tremendous voyage;
Who was their captain, bleeding much, uneath,
Men uphold, midst their wedge, tall Cunoglas!
Dead soon, they cannot choose, but let to fall
On ground, that glorious spoil. Who, in his room,
Helm-clad, now leads, is man of immense force.
Leaf-crowned, this runs; and fenced is his vast chest,
With swart-stained mails, lo, smirched with much war-blood.
Who was their captain, bleeding much, uneath,
Men uphold, midst their wedge, tall Cunoglas!
Dead soon, they cannot choose, but let to fall
On ground, that glorious spoil. Who, in his room,
Helm-clad, now leads, is man of immense force.
Leaf-crowned, this runs; and fenced is his vast chest,
With swart-stained mails, lo, smirched with much war-blood.
This their wedge-head, he battles, without shield:
And by his shout, an Atrebat he is!
And seem men hear, when terribly he cries,
(The stature his,) voice of Segontorix!
Insomuch, that his swift career upholding,
Who hastened thither is, in shrill scythe-chariot;
With cry, hark, great warlord Caratacus,
His name enquires and house illustrious?
Unto whom that hero, a moment stayed his course;
Spake, Nurseling of the foster-gods, thee, Caradoc,
Give they war-glory and endless victory!
Know that am I, unworthy seed of Commius,
He that was king, whiles stood our happier state,
In dune Calleva, now burned walls and waste.
So crying, he hurled forth yet more vehement!
And by his shout, an Atrebat he is!
And seem men hear, when terribly he cries,
(The stature his,) voice of Segontorix!
Insomuch, that his swift career upholding,
Who hastened thither is, in shrill scythe-chariot;
With cry, hark, great warlord Caratacus,
His name enquires and house illustrious?
Unto whom that hero, a moment stayed his course;
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Give they war-glory and endless victory!
Know that am I, unworthy seed of Commius,
He that was king, whiles stood our happier state,
In dune Calleva, now burned walls and waste.
So crying, he hurled forth yet more vehement!
When scaped Segontorix was, from Cogidubnos;
He, went to forest, warred, mongst thicket brakes,
On beasts; till all his royal weed to-rent,
And tawny so, and scratcht his noble face,
That no more known the Guledig was, of wight.
He, went to forest, warred, mongst thicket brakes,
On beasts; till all his royal weed to-rent,
And tawny so, and scratcht his noble face,
That no more known the Guledig was, of wight.
Befell then, certain horsefolk, Gauls, which ride,
With guides, post-messengers, unto nigh Longport,
Before that Belges' forest, needs must pass.
Them found Segontorix, lighted, at brook-side,
That watered their tired steeds. Few vassals, come
In arms, unto the king, were with him there:
And some ones, of the Gauls, those slew, anon;
And fled the rest from Guledig's great force.
With guides, post-messengers, unto nigh Longport,
Before that Belges' forest, needs must pass.
Them found Segontorix, lighted, at brook-side,
That watered their tired steeds. Few vassals, come
In arms, unto the king, were with him there:
And some ones, of the Gauls, those slew, anon;
And fled the rest from Guledig's great force.
But he moved of some god, spoiled a Gaul, dead,
Man of great stature, of his bright mailed harness;
Him rayed in that war-weed; but, sith, it stained,
(Still madding in his mood,) with warlike woad;
That druids had, for the king, ere, of that wood
Simpled, in the wild paths, and it prepared.
This, likewise, did, to pleasure him, his few warriors.
Man of great stature, of his bright mailed harness;
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(Still madding in his mood,) with warlike woad;
That druids had, for the king, ere, of that wood
Simpled, in the wild paths, and it prepared.
This, likewise, did, to pleasure him, his few warriors.
At Guledig's cry, those, mounted then, Gauls' steeds;
Had issued from wood-side. Men gathered, armed,
From many a grange, to them, and homestead burned;
Which their warfaring cries heard, as they rode:
Yet none durst ask, Is this Segontorix?
And were they joined, to-day, to Cunoglas.
Had issued from wood-side. Men gathered, armed,
From many a grange, to them, and homestead burned;
Which their warfaring cries heard, as they rode:
Yet none durst ask, Is this Segontorix?
And were they joined, to-day, to Cunoglas.
Yonder, fight cloud of archers, from main Gaul;
Which, lately passed the narrow seas, with Claudius;
Fenced with round bucklers. Them, four hundred bows,
(Ambacti named; and gessetas, his hired servants,)
One leads Verpatalos, lord in a great dune:
But runs derne whisper, in his people's ears,
Had Pallant, freedman of the imperial palace,
Their lord's young wife beguiled. In this hour, was
Seized extreme passion, on Verpatalos' soul;
Seen those great deeds, of Atrebatan Britons.
He them, with both his Belgic hands, applauds!
That, oak-leaf-crowned, hurl, fighting-on, to death!
And now those cleave Vespasian's pia legion.
Which, lately passed the narrow seas, with Claudius;
Fenced with round bucklers. Them, four hundred bows,
(Ambacti named; and gessetas, his hired servants,)
One leads Verpatalos, lord in a great dune:
But runs derne whisper, in his people's ears,
Had Pallant, freedman of the imperial palace,
Their lord's young wife beguiled. In this hour, was
Seized extreme passion, on Verpatalos' soul;
Seen those great deeds, of Atrebatan Britons.
He them, with both his Belgic hands, applauds!
That, oak-leaf-crowned, hurl, fighting-on, to death!
And now those cleave Vespasian's pia legion.
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Mongst his light warriors; (that do cast-up tufts
Of grass, to know how stands the wind aloft,
Which mars their arrows' flight;) hark, cries Verpatalos,
Upholding hand! (his bowmen cease then shoot,)
In common speech of main and island Gauls,
Is come the day of vengeance, for our harms!
Just gods, which passed Italic Alps, with Brennus,
Conjoin, again, our arms against proud Rome.
This said Verpatalos, raised loud Gaulish chant,
Steed mounts; and issues from beside the legions!
Follow, with rattling quivers, his most warriors;
That, running, cast their shields, behind their backs.
Of grass, to know how stands the wind aloft,
Which mars their arrows' flight;) hark, cries Verpatalos,
Upholding hand! (his bowmen cease then shoot,)
In common speech of main and island Gauls,
Is come the day of vengeance, for our harms!
Just gods, which passed Italic Alps, with Brennus,
Conjoin, again, our arms against proud Rome.
This said Verpatalos, raised loud Gaulish chant,
Steed mounts; and issues from beside the legions!
Follow, with rattling quivers, his most warriors;
That, running, cast their shields, behind their backs.
Lifting, to Kent men, that rush nigh, in chariots,
Verpatalos suppliant palms; he, Kinsmen, cries,
Give passage; that to king Caratacus,
We may us join, and Britons' blue caterfs!
These grant: Gauls then, still running, come to part,
Where kings, of all blue Britons' tribes, had left
Reliefs, strong mingled bands, in covert place.
Gauls, loud, as they nigh to them, name, (right hands
Outstretching,) common gods. But minding those,
Alone, that former overthrow, at Thames,
By fraud of Gauls; whereby, was Antethrigus
Smitten, and Britons' army cast away;
(And Dryg, hot-hearted lord, to-day, commands,)
Would not receive, though those their crooked bows,
Have cast: but Britons, unsheathed furious glaives,
Closing them round, begin the foremost slay:
They pluck, then, lord Verpatalos, from horse!
Verpatalos suppliant palms; he, Kinsmen, cries,
Give passage; that to king Caratacus,
We may us join, and Britons' blue caterfs!
These grant: Gauls then, still running, come to part,
Where kings, of all blue Britons' tribes, had left
Reliefs, strong mingled bands, in covert place.
Gauls, loud, as they nigh to them, name, (right hands
Outstretching,) common gods. But minding those,
Alone, that former overthrow, at Thames,
By fraud of Gauls; whereby, was Antethrigus
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(And Dryg, hot-hearted lord, to-day, commands,)
Would not receive, though those their crooked bows,
Have cast: but Britons, unsheathed furious glaives,
Closing them round, begin the foremost slay:
They pluck, then, lord Verpatalos, from horse!
He, nobleman, would not recoil, nor fight.
An hasty dart, hurled through his gorge, alas;
His woes eftsoons have ending. Ceased his voice,
Tremendous, whelms, upon his reeling sense,
Of never-ending sleep, the purple night!
And fled lamenting, from his comely corse,
Pasture of crows and kites, in land of Brennus,
His ghost. Snatcht Belges bowmen up wild stones,
Gainst Britons, which them slay; die, desperate!
An hasty dart, hurled through his gorge, alas;
His woes eftsoons have ending. Ceased his voice,
Tremendous, whelms, upon his reeling sense,
Of never-ending sleep, the purple night!
And fled lamenting, from his comely corse,
Pasture of crows and kites, in land of Brennus,
His ghost. Snatcht Belges bowmen up wild stones,
Gainst Britons, which them slay; die, desperate!
Being raised new clamour, in their hindward, thus;
As erewhile in Thames' field, wry back blue Britons,
(Which hear that cry!) their necks, doubting their hearts;
And pause their battle-weary hands to fight.
As erewhile in Thames' field, wry back blue Britons,
(Which hear that cry!) their necks, doubting their hearts;
And pause their battle-weary hands to fight.
Flavius then, making head, leads on his legion:
And they, thick shielded hedge of glaives and spears,
With strong effort, long loose ranks of blue Britons,
Beat back: and Sabine's horsemen them o'errun.
Then taken were many teams of broken scythe-carts,
Whose riders slain to ground. And Roman engines,
Launching from scaffolds, laid on heavy wains,
With hideous randon, stones and great winged beams,
Confound and strew that trimarch of the North.
And they, thick shielded hedge of glaives and spears,
With strong effort, long loose ranks of blue Britons,
Beat back: and Sabine's horsemen them o'errun.
Then taken were many teams of broken scythe-carts,
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Launching from scaffolds, laid on heavy wains,
With hideous randon, stones and great winged beams,
Confound and strew that trimarch of the North.
Legions, confirmed their ranks, with brazen clarions,
All give, at once, new onset. They fall on,
Like winter waves. Long-shielded Trinobants,
Which erst advanced; must yield first ground to Flavius!
Yet fighting, foot by foot. Nigh whom, (Marunus,
Their duke, being hurt now of a Roman javelin,)
Shrink valiant bands, of merchant Troynovant.
All give, at once, new onset. They fall on,
Like winter waves. Long-shielded Trinobants,
Which erst advanced; must yield first ground to Flavius!
Yet fighting, foot by foot. Nigh whom, (Marunus,
Their duke, being hurt now of a Roman javelin,)
Shrink valiant bands, of merchant Troynovant.
Then, were caterfs o'erborne of Durotriges;
Seen, sudden, valorous Golam plumb from chariot!
An hurled huge engine-stone brast all his chest.
At his steeds' feet he fell, and lay full still;
Forgetful of his people and Moridunion.
Pendol, his friend, a prince of fenny march,
At Pedred's stream, leapt down, before the enemies,
In the field's midst, from swift scythe-cart; who sought,
With rapt effort, to save the hero's corse;
Fell, shield and body, pierced, of Roman darts.
Seen, sudden, valorous Golam plumb from chariot!
An hurled huge engine-stone brast all his chest.
At his steeds' feet he fell, and lay full still;
Forgetful of his people and Moridunion.
Pendol, his friend, a prince of fenny march,
At Pedred's stream, leapt down, before the enemies,
In the field's midst, from swift scythe-cart; who sought,
With rapt effort, to save the hero's corse;
Fell, shield and body, pierced, of Roman darts.
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Among the island kings, seed of the gods,
That, breathing in their living breasts, infuse
New force; out of the battle were withdrawn,
Awhile, some ones, to fresh their sweating steeds,
And bind their wounds. The sire Caratacus
Yet rides, sublime; and seems the battle-god.
He everywhere doth comfort, with main voice,
The Britons' woad-stained breasts, gainst harnessed soldiers.
And, with him, Gorran guides the royal team.
That, breathing in their living breasts, infuse
New force; out of the battle were withdrawn,
Awhile, some ones, to fresh their sweating steeds,
And bind their wounds. The sire Caratacus
Yet rides, sublime; and seems the battle-god.
He everywhere doth comfort, with main voice,
The Britons' woad-stained breasts, gainst harnessed soldiers.
And, with him, Gorran guides the royal team.
Returned Venutios, to the king Velaunos,
Restores the battles of the Northern powers.
But, whilst his raging wheels, in warlike field,
Reap living swathe; is noised, young Fythiol fell,
In further part; and with that valorous duke,
Of East-men, are cut-off both men and chariots.
An hundred, thither, ready scythe-carts leads
Caratacus, then: but o'er the island gods,
Gin now prevail the mightier gods of Rome!
Restores the battles of the Northern powers.
But, whilst his raging wheels, in warlike field,
Reap living swathe; is noised, young Fythiol fell,
In further part; and with that valorous duke,
Of East-men, are cut-off both men and chariots.
An hundred, thither, ready scythe-carts leads
Caratacus, then: but o'er the island gods,
Gin now prevail the mightier gods of Rome!
Early in the battle, had a roving arrow
Attained the flesh of great Caratacus.
Sped of Numidic bow, it upward glanced
Had from courbe brow of the white royal chariot.
Gored the lord's thigh; him, like a snake, it bit,
With poisoned fang, under his mailéd harness.
King Caradoc had that hauberk of Manannan,
Woeworth! left uphanged, in Caer Verulam;
Where was it fallen a prey, these days, to Romans:
(And which, being sent to Rome, that same year, shown
Was, in the triumph of returnéd Claudius!)
Attained the flesh of great Caratacus.
Sped of Numidic bow, it upward glanced
Had from courbe brow of the white royal chariot.
Gored the lord's thigh; him, like a snake, it bit,
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King Caradoc had that hauberk of Manannan,
Woeworth! left uphanged, in Caer Verulam;
Where was it fallen a prey, these days, to Romans:
(And which, being sent to Rome, that same year, shown
Was, in the triumph of returnéd Claudius!)
But, privily, drawn the shaft, forth, had Venutios;
And bound, with precious salve; (which, in an horn,
He bare aye to the wars,) the throbbing sore.
Would not the supreme lord, for this, forsake
The field; but, longtime, hid his rankling grief.
And seemed his chariot the sun's burning cart,
(Illustrious lamp, to all succeeding ages,
Hail glory of Britain, great Caratacus!)
And bound, with precious salve; (which, in an horn,
He bare aye to the wars,) the throbbing sore.
Would not the supreme lord, for this, forsake
The field; but, longtime, hid his rankling grief.
And seemed his chariot the sun's burning cart,
(Illustrious lamp, to all succeeding ages,
Hail glory of Britain, great Caratacus!)
Yet, covertly, under bands, the hero bleeds.
Corrupting, then, the venim, all his veins,
Creeps, little and little, in his heart, a frost.
Sighs Caradoc, feeling now decay his force:
Sighs to his gods, he now for-weary is.
And languishing, on this tardy Summer sun,
Looks, pales; and eftsoons faints his living force.
Issued his golden whip, and fall the reins,
From his high hands; which Gorran, by him, caught.
Sinks, sunlike, Caradoc, in his battle-cart!
Corrupting, then, the venim, all his veins,
Creeps, little and little, in his heart, a frost.
Sighs Caradoc, feeling now decay his force:
Sighs to his gods, he now for-weary is.
And languishing, on this tardy Summer sun,
Looks, pales; and eftsoons faints his living force.
Issued his golden whip, and fall the reins,
From his high hands; which Gorran, by him, caught.
Sinks, sunlike, Caradoc, in his battle-cart!
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Gorran, his right embracing him, afraid
The sire should fall, out of his jumping chariot,
Him pains, with left hand, rule the royal steeds.
But, is not his, that pulse, which wont them guide;
Nor their lord's martial voice, that cheers, that chides;
Whence, looking backwark, they, a moment, stand!
Stoopt their broad croups, then, they forewent the wind;
Turning from battle, bearing their lord home:
They break back, towards tower-gate of Camulodunum.
The sire should fall, out of his jumping chariot,
Him pains, with left hand, rule the royal steeds.
But, is not his, that pulse, which wont them guide;
Nor their lord's martial voice, that cheers, that chides;
Whence, looking backwark, they, a moment, stand!
Stoopt their broad croups, then, they forewent the wind;
Turning from battle, bearing their lord home:
They break back, towards tower-gate of Camulodunum.
Thwarts to the royal scythe-cart, king Venutios.
And Ergund, erst, in field, he called, by name;
Known by the homicide gleam of his broad glaive,
His immense stature and his towréd targe.
Running, in three bands, Ergund and his warriors,
With inclined shields; beat back their bleeding spears,
Nigh harnessed Romans, and tall Gauls, allies.
And Ergund, erst, in field, he called, by name;
Known by the homicide gleam of his broad glaive,
His immense stature and his towréd targe.
Running, in three bands, Ergund and his warriors,
With inclined shields; beat back their bleeding spears,
Nigh harnessed Romans, and tall Gauls, allies.
At Caradoc's weary voice; uneath whose steeds
Were stayed, Gorran and Kowain him uplifted,
Bear to Venutios' cart. His helm, unlaced,
With dragon-crest, doth hastily on king Venutios:
Then Kowain, shield, which Gorran bare, embraced.
Those giving Gorran charge, speed to the walls,
With Caradoc, couched in iron Brigantine chariot;
They both upleap, in the lord's winged white scythe-cart!
Were stayed, Gorran and Kowain him uplifted,
Bear to Venutios' cart. His helm, unlaced,
With dragon-crest, doth hastily on king Venutios:
Then Kowain, shield, which Gorran bare, embraced.
Those giving Gorran charge, speed to the walls,
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They both upleap, in the lord's winged white scythe-cart!
Returned into the battle, seemed Venutios,
Cunobelin's warlord-son, his steeds and chariot.
There now had stern Silures repulsed Romans;
Though fallen a third part of their naked warriors.
Maglos they find, with Ordovican Kynan:
For joined had those two valorous their armed powers.
Cunobelin's warlord-son, his steeds and chariot.
There now had stern Silures repulsed Romans;
Though fallen a third part of their naked warriors.
Maglos they find, with Ordovican Kynan:
For joined had those two valorous their armed powers.
Loud heard, then, bove the tumult, voice of Geta!
Who, on his tribunes calling and centurions,
Erects, foursquare, amids the field, his legion;
(Which order this old duke, like to a castrum,
Outfound, of late.) They grounding their stiff spears,
All easily, then, sustain, on every part,
The impetuous swarming force of barbare enemies.
Who, on his tribunes calling and centurions,
Erects, foursquare, amids the field, his legion;
(Which order this old duke, like to a castrum,
Outfound, of late.) They grounding their stiff spears,
All easily, then, sustain, on every part,
The impetuous swarming force of barbare enemies.
Thus those; whom onset, ere, of battle-carts,
And brunt of that famed trimarch of the North,
Cut-off approach, again, to the main army.
By whom r'enforced, of new, outrush those legions,
To the last overthrow of blue caterfs;
Confusedly now arrayed. Then, by vast poise,
Of Roman shields, is naked Britons' front
Borne back, in routs. Were even then, who most valorous,
Constrained convert their face. In that assault,
Velaunos fell, great duke of all North Britons!
Who, for his oath's sake, would not turn his chariot.
And brunt of that famed trimarch of the North,
Cut-off approach, again, to the main army.
By whom r'enforced, of new, outrush those legions,
To the last overthrow of blue caterfs;
Confusedly now arrayed. Then, by vast poise,
Of Roman shields, is naked Britons' front
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Constrained convert their face. In that assault,
Velaunos fell, great duke of all North Britons!
Who, for his oath's sake, would not turn his chariot.
Certain centurion was, which him advanced,
Desiring glory; and that his hands robust
Might slay some chief one of cerulean Britons.
This man's hurled lance, then king Velaunos pierced,
Twixt his right mammel and the golden belt;
Which entering the frail bulwark of his life,
The liver thrilled. And fell down from his chariot
The war-king, at that stroke; and gave the ghost.
Desiring glory; and that his hands robust
Might slay some chief one of cerulean Britons.
This man's hurled lance, then king Velaunos pierced,
Twixt his right mammel and the golden belt;
Which entering the frail bulwark of his life,
The liver thrilled. And fell down from his chariot
The war-king, at that stroke; and gave the ghost.
Riches, nor hundred champions of his house,
Nor sacrifices, nor mails of hard brass,
In this his fatal hour, might save Velaunos:
Whose destiny, already, had shaped the gods, what night
The gentle Aguitha, flower of maidens all,
Him, in her bridal bower, of royal seed,
Conceived; and Tees, betwixt his flowery banks,
Making his streams run slow, her lulled to rest.
Nor aught availeth, with the fatal god,
To turn away his stroke, our mortal gifts.
Nor sacrifices, nor mails of hard brass,
In this his fatal hour, might save Velaunos:
Whose destiny, already, had shaped the gods, what night
The gentle Aguitha, flower of maidens all,
Him, in her bridal bower, of royal seed,
Conceived; and Tees, betwixt his flowery banks,
Making his streams run slow, her lulled to rest.
Nor aught availeth, with the fatal god,
To turn away his stroke, our mortal gifts.
Loud shouting, they have slain great barbare duke!
Lo, bronze-clad soldiers of invading Rome,
Trample, as they rush on, in bloody dust,
His royal fortune, and his reverend face.
And they slew, with him, Kelidon in the scythe-cart,
His cousin's son. Enveloped of the reins,
Was dragged his breathing corse. In bitter throes,
His limbs, like smitten adder, beat the ground,
Where, hewed of swords, he yields his warlike breath.
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Trample, as they rush on, in bloody dust,
His royal fortune, and his reverend face.
And they slew, with him, Kelidon in the scythe-cart,
His cousin's son. Enveloped of the reins,
Was dragged his breathing corse. In bitter throes,
His limbs, like smitten adder, beat the ground,
Where, hewed of swords, he yields his warlike breath.
New shout raised! rush in all the field forth legions:
That hurl, now, back blue warriors, on all parts.
He, then, in vain that seems Caratacus,
Venutios, whom draw forth the royal steeds;
Before whom Kowain lifts the warlord's shield,
Reproves, exhorts, with voice magnanimous.
As ere, in valour, now, the glast-stained Britons;
In whose hearts, fallen blind fear, contend in flight!
That hurl, now, back blue warriors, on all parts.
He, then, in vain that seems Caratacus,
Venutios, whom draw forth the royal steeds;
Before whom Kowain lifts the warlord's shield,
Reproves, exhorts, with voice magnanimous.
As ere, in valour, now, the glast-stained Britons;
In whose hearts, fallen blind fear, contend in flight!
And, yet more, weakened is the warlike force,
Of East-men, and discouraged their caterfs:
For Gormail, that fights with duke Hiradoc forth;
And, in his targe, bears thirty Gaulish shafts;
Perceived one, his nigh kinsman, whose blood had
Erewhile the hero shed, in far North parts;
Fell Vergomar, who now rides in the trimarch.
This approached, from the backward, on swift horse;
Or ever men might warn, ward or withhold,
Twixt shoulders smote him; and with so huge force,
His spear ran through warlike Gormail's ribbed chest:
Who fell down, bleeding carcase, without breath.
In fury, Icenians turning, Vergomar pierced.
Of East-men, and discouraged their caterfs:
For Gormail, that fights with duke Hiradoc forth;
And, in his targe, bears thirty Gaulish shafts;
Perceived one, his nigh kinsman, whose blood had
Erewhile the hero shed, in far North parts;
Fell Vergomar, who now rides in the trimarch.
This approached, from the backward, on swift horse;
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Twixt shoulders smote him; and with so huge force,
His spear ran through warlike Gormail's ribbed chest:
Who fell down, bleeding carcase, without breath.
In fury, Icenians turning, Vergomar pierced.
Then Aulus sends out, his reliefs and aids;
And light-armed runners, mingled with his horse,
To cut-off Britons, from their city walls;
Whence women's shrilling shrieks now pierce all ears.
From far, king Caradoc wounded, those have seen;
And see how driven caterfs, before Rome-legions.
And light-armed runners, mingled with his horse,
To cut-off Britons, from their city walls;
Whence women's shrilling shrieks now pierce all ears.
From far, king Caradoc wounded, those have seen;
And see how driven caterfs, before Rome-legions.
Clamour young warriors; that, in idle camp,
Of Cartismandua, blame the lustful queen.
With hardy looks, before the gates of Camulus,
They clash bright arms, all, to their warlike shields.
Of Cartismandua, blame the lustful queen.
With hardy looks, before the gates of Camulus,
They clash bright arms, all, to their warlike shields.
In that, waked Vellocatus, from long trance.
He languishing, calls to him, all his powers:
For well, mongst mingled cries, he could perceive
Loud-tongued strange voice of nighing Roman legions!
Him rousing, from fell dreams of dread and death,
He, faint, uprose; and for his hauberk calls;
Would arm him! but eftsoon fails on the bed.
Then he besought the queen, send his young warriors;
Into the battle, in succour of blue Britons.
He languishing, calls to him, all his powers:
For well, mongst mingled cries, he could perceive
Loud-tongued strange voice of nighing Roman legions!
Him rousing, from fell dreams of dread and death,
He, faint, uprose; and for his hauberk calls;
Would arm him! but eftsoon fails on the bed.
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Into the battle, in succour of blue Britons.
Went Cartismandua, as bidden of some god,
Out from the chamber, being ready dight;
And standing on the wall, like Camulus;
She uplifted, lo, sun-glittering, her bright glaive,
The sign of war, in sight of her young men.
Rise, in fierce heat, those young Brigantine warriors;
Which followed have the queen, in their caterfs!
Out from the chamber, being ready dight;
And standing on the wall, like Camulus;
She uplifted, lo, sun-glittering, her bright glaive,
The sign of war, in sight of her young men.
Rise, in fierce heat, those young Brigantine warriors;
Which followed have the queen, in their caterfs!
Nor longer tarrying, they, to field, break forth,
And battle, little curing keep their ranks;
Eager to pierce, to hew the enemies' flesh;
In succour of Brigantines and South Britons:
Nor waited they the queen. Shouting, outwent
They, in furious haste, their captains both and ensigns:
And now, through Colne, plash their impatient feet.
Whence they leap forth, in number as a legion;
To weary Britons' aid, and Romans smite.
And battle, little curing keep their ranks;
Eager to pierce, to hew the enemies' flesh;
In succour of Brigantines and South Britons:
Nor waited they the queen. Shouting, outwent
They, in furious haste, their captains both and ensigns:
And now, through Colne, plash their impatient feet.
Whence they leap forth, in number as a legion;
To weary Britons' aid, and Romans smite.
Closed Cartismandua, in Cunobal's hard mails,
A silver morion whelmed on her tyred head,
(The whiles fell hope creeps in her serpent's breast,
That might she find Venutios hurt to death;)
She, by the stairs, to Embla's court, descended:
Leaps there on scythed wheels of her great sire's chariot,
Of iron. Her long-maned steeds, in hands stand of
One Calduc, her light steward: who now, with her,
Mounts; and large pictured targe, before her breast,
Lifts, wherein effigied, lo, her saviour-goddess,
(Belisama,) emmailed, in many hews, is seen.
A silver morion whelmed on her tyred head,
(The whiles fell hope creeps in her serpent's breast,
That might she find Venutios hurt to death;)
She, by the stairs, to Embla's court, descended:
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Of iron. Her long-maned steeds, in hands stand of
One Calduc, her light steward: who now, with her,
Mounts; and large pictured targe, before her breast,
Lifts, wherein effigied, lo, her saviour-goddess,
(Belisama,) emmailed, in many hews, is seen.
She who, in chamber, her luxurious limbs
Hath smeared with magic salve, help gainst war wounds,
Now shakes the reins; and rush forth her swift steeds,
In Colne-street; where she smally of impotent folk,
Recks, or of babes, though she should them o'erride.
Hath smeared with magic salve, help gainst war wounds,
Now shakes the reins; and rush forth her swift steeds,
In Colne-street; where she smally of impotent folk,
Recks, or of babes, though she should them o'erride.
Lo, in the porch of Camulus' city-gate;
Where, softly, now the magistrates have him laid,
Is swooning great war-sire Caratacus!
Queen Embla stands, beside, full pale of face;
For dread, and busy thought, towards her gods;
Whilst druid leeches, kneeling, cure his wound;
Which they, with cunning hands, have cleansed and closed.
But coldly, on them, bright Cartismandua looks;
In that her shrill wheels issue from the town.
Where, softly, now the magistrates have him laid,
Is swooning great war-sire Caratacus!
Queen Embla stands, beside, full pale of face;
For dread, and busy thought, towards her gods;
Whilst druid leeches, kneeling, cure his wound;
Which they, with cunning hands, have cleansed and closed.
But coldly, on them, bright Cartismandua looks;
In that her shrill wheels issue from the town.
Seen how new Britons pass, so rathe, the Colne;
Flavius (opposed, to them, his wide-ranged legion,)
Severs, with hasty wedge of captive war-carts;
Which, (with their teams, together, he had bound,)
Those battle-throngs. Rush Cartismandua's warriors,
Parted, by the two sides; thick barbare bands.
This one he envelops, with vexillary soldiers;
That other hurl forth, to unequal fight.
Flavius (opposed, to them, his wide-ranged legion,)
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Which, (with their teams, together, he had bound,)
Those battle-throngs. Rush Cartismandua's warriors,
Parted, by the two sides; thick barbare bands.
This one he envelops, with vexillary soldiers;
That other hurl forth, to unequal fight.
They encounter, valiantly, with certain cohorts,
Set in await, (with whom the guard of Claudius;
And Cæsar, in the midst, fenced round of elephants.)
They, naked, fight, with warwont, harnessed, soldiers,
That take small hurt. Young perfumed Briton lords,
Which guide, with gingling bits, their barded steeds,
Valorous men's sons, fall from their painted carts;
And stain their glast-stained brows, and their bright locks,
And party-coloured weed, with their own blood.
Set in await, (with whom the guard of Claudius;
And Cæsar, in the midst, fenced round of elephants.)
They, naked, fight, with warwont, harnessed, soldiers,
That take small hurt. Young perfumed Briton lords,
Which guide, with gingling bits, their barded steeds,
Valorous men's sons, fall from their painted carts;
And stain their glast-stained brows, and their bright locks,
And party-coloured weed, with their own blood.
Which seen, queen Cartismandua beat her haunch,
For poignant grief; and turns, as one dismayed,
Her cart; with hope win back to the town walls.
Fast, after her, pursue young Roman knights;
(Is Titus, and few, with him, Gaulish horse,
As falcon, greedy attain so glorious prey.)
For poignant grief; and turns, as one dismayed,
Her cart; with hope win back to the town walls.
Fast, after her, pursue young Roman knights;
(Is Titus, and few, with him, Gaulish horse,
As falcon, greedy attain so glorious prey.)
White-armed, mongst the woad-stained, that Northern queen,
By freshness of her team, (she incessantly smites,
With ivory whip, upon their smoking croups,)
Them weary, outgoes: nighs now to Camulus' walls;
(Her tunic fluttering, in this Summer-breath!)
Whereas, being hardly arrived; with shame of face
And dool, again, the queen doth enter in:
The flower, well-nigh, of all, in so brief space,
Her young men lost. Who, from dune-wall, look forth,
See Britons travailled to and fro, in field.
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With ivory whip, upon their smoking croups,)
Them weary, outgoes: nighs now to Camulus' walls;
(Her tunic fluttering, in this Summer-breath!)
Whereas, being hardly arrived; with shame of face
And dool, again, the queen doth enter in:
The flower, well-nigh, of all, in so brief space,
Her young men lost. Who, from dune-wall, look forth,
See Britons travailled to and fro, in field.
Old men that, from the tower of Camulus, watch,
Behold most warlike nations of the Isle;
How each from other, now, like boughs, dispersed,
Which shake forth winter blasts. Cut from the dune,
To covert of hill-woods, flee the caterfs.
Like fowl of broken wing, scape the maimed chariots.
Behold most warlike nations of the Isle;
How each from other, now, like boughs, dispersed,
Which shake forth winter blasts. Cut from the dune,
To covert of hill-woods, flee the caterfs.
Like fowl of broken wing, scape the maimed chariots.
Loud wailing; and the city-gates are shut!
Weeping of wives, which stand round on the walls.
The gods of Britons seem to mourn aloft,
Which veil that welling passing radiance,
Of the unweariable sun, with skies,
As rusty gore: in whose now waning beams,
See druids, from lukewarm blood of fallen warriors,
In battle-plain, to rise disbodied spirits.
And still, toward house of heaven, they upward mount;
Like evening dance of silver-wingéd flies,
O'er crystal water-brooks, in harvest month.
Weeping of wives, which stand round on the walls.
The gods of Britons seem to mourn aloft,
Which veil that welling passing radiance,
Of the unweariable sun, with skies,
As rusty gore: in whose now waning beams,
See druids, from lukewarm blood of fallen warriors,
In battle-plain, to rise disbodied spirits.
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Like evening dance of silver-wingéd flies,
O'er crystal water-brooks, in harvest month.
O'er fallen men and wide-strewed arms and steeds,
Pursue, still killing, Romans. Nor yet cohorts,
Turn, their victorious face, till may, no more,
They see field's blotted gore. Call them then clarions!
They come, in the late twilight, to their vallum.
But not till shine, in vast night-camp of heaven,
O'er earth's dark face, high watchlights of the gods;
Weary with slaying, turn the knights of Rome;
Besmirched their steeds, their harness and their hands,
With the cerulean Britons' barbare blood.
Pursue, still killing, Romans. Nor yet cohorts,
Turn, their victorious face, till may, no more,
They see field's blotted gore. Call them then clarions!
They come, in the late twilight, to their vallum.
But not till shine, in vast night-camp of heaven,
O'er earth's dark face, high watchlights of the gods;
Weary with slaying, turn the knights of Rome;
Besmirched their steeds, their harness and their hands,
With the cerulean Britons' barbare blood.
Soldiers that rest, in conquered soil, and sup,
At thousand watchfires; with hope, recreate,
Of morrow's prey, their wolvish Roman hearts:
Whiles, fallen to-day, their wounded fellows lie,
(Not few,) yet, in wide slaughter-field, without:
Nor, till moon-rise, should there wend companies forth,
To seek them, mongst the dead, from castrum gates.
At thousand watchfires; with hope, recreate,
Of morrow's prey, their wolvish Roman hearts:
Whiles, fallen to-day, their wounded fellows lie,
(Not few,) yet, in wide slaughter-field, without:
Nor, till moon-rise, should there wend companies forth,
To seek them, mongst the dead, from castrum gates.
This sun gone down, to light the underworld,
Of heroes and passed souls and ancient gods;
Sits Claudius now, to banquet, with his dukes.
He drinketh deep; and of the battle carps.
But soon they part forth, from fond Cæsar, weary:
Who sith all drunken, in his vomit, lies,
Alone; and routs in his pavilion wide,
Of purple silk, midst Rome's victorious legions.
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Sits Claudius now, to banquet, with his dukes.
He drinketh deep; and of the battle carps.
But soon they part forth, from fond Cæsar, weary:
Who sith all drunken, in his vomit, lies,
Alone; and routs in his pavilion wide,
Of purple silk, midst Rome's victorious legions.
How dreadful is this shrouded night, abroad!
Wherein lies strewn dull bosom of earth's ground,
With her war-murdered sons, mingled with corses,
Of stranger enemies, in much spilth of blood.
The agony, ah, is, of all their myriad deaths,
Now silent; dread corruption only is,
Atrocious spectacle to those starry gods!
Wherein lies strewn dull bosom of earth's ground,
With her war-murdered sons, mingled with corses,
Of stranger enemies, in much spilth of blood.
The agony, ah, is, of all their myriad deaths,
Now silent; dread corruption only is,
Atrocious spectacle to those starry gods!
Sound frantic women's shrieks, from yond dune walls,
For this great day of death! None, seems, the world
Now hath, but wailing voice. Where, yester, was
A gracious Summer field; whence wont, to sound,
Ruckling of sheep-folds; and from meads of Colne,
The lowing of fat beves; and dulcet chant,
From flowery haythorn, by the river's brinks,
To silver sickle of the moon, all night,
Of the heavenly nightingale, that cannot sleep,
For love: (so gurgling, in his trance, exults
He, on the spray, the tardy night so chides,
That all did ring of his melodious voice!)
Now only springs the shrilling crickets' din,
And noyous fenny paddocks' bark, far off:
And night-fowl light, that follow warlike death,
On whistling dreary pens, with creaking joints;
And clarions bray derne watches of strange legions.
Then sends out Aulus, servants of the legions,
Bearing some lanterns, other wine and bread;
With guard and wains, to take up wounded soldiers.
Those wandering lights, see widows, from the walls;
And faint their hearts, doubting were spoiled their dead!
For this great day of death! None, seems, the world
Now hath, but wailing voice. Where, yester, was
A gracious Summer field; whence wont, to sound,
Ruckling of sheep-folds; and from meads of Colne,
The lowing of fat beves; and dulcet chant,
From flowery haythorn, by the river's brinks,
To silver sickle of the moon, all night,
Of the heavenly nightingale, that cannot sleep,
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He, on the spray, the tardy night so chides,
That all did ring of his melodious voice!)
Now only springs the shrilling crickets' din,
And noyous fenny paddocks' bark, far off:
And night-fowl light, that follow warlike death,
On whistling dreary pens, with creaking joints;
And clarions bray derne watches of strange legions.
Then sends out Aulus, servants of the legions,
Bearing some lanterns, other wine and bread;
With guard and wains, to take up wounded soldiers.
Those wandering lights, see widows, from the walls;
And faint their hearts, doubting were spoiled their dead!
Have crowed now midnight clarions of strange legions,
That, in their castra, sleep. Under derne woods,
Of the far field, approach to Camulodunum,
Lo, long-haired caterans and tall gallowglashes,
Footbands, which follow, from dim land of Erinn,
Carvilios' harp. And Ith, their naked king,
Them leads. And those had passed Vergivian seas,
By favour of god Nuth, in wattle-barks,
Hide-dight. And they are half-god Ier's seed,
Lineage of his two sons, Emer and Airem.
That, in their castra, sleep. Under derne woods,
Of the far field, approach to Camulodunum,
Lo, long-haired caterans and tall gallowglashes,
Footbands, which follow, from dim land of Erinn,
Carvilios' harp. And Ith, their naked king,
Them leads. And those had passed Vergivian seas,
By favour of god Nuth, in wattle-barks,
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Lineage of his two sons, Emer and Airem.
Are Erinn's caterans naked, from the belt,
(An hoop of iron, about their middles, bound;)
And cudgyls arm and hurling-stones, their hands,
And thonged sharp darts: their captains bear iron glaives.
Kynesians, some, Cruithni other bands
Are named; for birds' and beasts' similitudes,
Seen scotcht in their tough flesh, or prickt, with woad;
And daubed on their light shields. Are other-some,
Maccon, (as who would say hounds'-kin:) yet some,
Which, Children-of-the-mist, are hight in Erinn.
With Ith, be priests high-shorn, upon their heads,
Culdees, (which Servants sounds, of Erinn's gods,)
And brehons, that declare the nation's laws;
Men girt in long-haired weed, they lanas call.
(An hoop of iron, about their middles, bound;)
And cudgyls arm and hurling-stones, their hands,
And thonged sharp darts: their captains bear iron glaives.
Kynesians, some, Cruithni other bands
Are named; for birds' and beasts' similitudes,
Seen scotcht in their tough flesh, or prickt, with woad;
And daubed on their light shields. Are other-some,
Maccon, (as who would say hounds'-kin:) yet some,
Which, Children-of-the-mist, are hight in Erinn.
With Ith, be priests high-shorn, upon their heads,
Culdees, (which Servants sounds, of Erinn's gods,)
And brehons, that declare the nation's laws;
Men girt in long-haired weed, they lanas call.
Carvilios vates' githern's silver sound,
(Which the ever-murmuring gulf, Deucalidon,
Appeased,) from cabans, holds in misty woods,
And pits, like earths of salvage beasts, for bowers,
And caves of the wild crags, drew Erinn's sons;
Which gathered to king Palador, at the shore.
(Which the ever-murmuring gulf, Deucalidon,
Appeased,) from cabans, holds in misty woods,
And pits, like earths of salvage beasts, for bowers,
And caves of the wild crags, drew Erinn's sons;
Which gathered to king Palador, at the shore.
Of all men, that beneath the stars have being,
Are those most poor. Ard-righ, (high, sacred-king,)
Is Ith; who nephew named of Ier in Erinn.
Wherein, what time deceased a naked king,
Is chosen some goodly child of priests and brehons;
Whom in all innocency they, of life, upbring;
And void of malice, naked, for a sign,
He needs naught, who of kindred with the gods.
Yet hath he all, wives, cattle, house and field.
For in what place he enter, men account
Them blesséd, which minister to him of all these.
Thus, without ire or envy or covetise, is
Ith arbiter, like a god, among their tribes;
That, once a year, from Tara, hear his voice.
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Is Ith; who nephew named of Ier in Erinn.
Wherein, what time deceased a naked king,
Is chosen some goodly child of priests and brehons;
Whom in all innocency they, of life, upbring;
And void of malice, naked, for a sign,
He needs naught, who of kindred with the gods.
Yet hath he all, wives, cattle, house and field.
For in what place he enter, men account
Them blesséd, which minister to him of all these.
Thus, without ire or envy or covetise, is
Ith arbiter, like a god, among their tribes;
That, once a year, from Tara, hear his voice.
Ith, naked king, Carvilios' chant persuaded.
Then he, Ard-righ, banned, from that sacred mount,
War, gainst a stranger nation; which doth vex
Britain the More, unjustly, and her oppress!
His middle girded, with an hoop of gold,
He arms nor harness hath, who bears no weed;
Nor, on his feet, binds soles, in so great voyage.
Shines, in his amber-locks, a golden fret.
Then he, Ard-righ, banned, from that sacred mount,
War, gainst a stranger nation; which doth vex
Britain the More, unjustly, and her oppress!
His middle girded, with an hoop of gold,
He arms nor harness hath, who bears no weed;
Nor, on his feet, binds soles, in so great voyage.
Shines, in his amber-locks, a golden fret.
Now halted, in the moonlight, in the path,
Ith's host. All hail, with him, the rising god!
That cometh, with broad gleam, up, like to vast torch;
Now climbeth in starry-steepness of East heavens;
And pray, Give happy event, of their emprise!
Ith's host. All hail, with him, the rising god!
That cometh, with broad gleam, up, like to vast torch;
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And pray, Give happy event, of their emprise!
They meet then, in vast heath, with fugitives,
Men of some Northern speech of the blue Britons;
And those, that pass, in twilight of the stars,
Pronounce; The bard is fallen, Carvilios!
Romans have overthrown the Britons' armies:
And fell king Caradoc, the high war-sire, slain!
Cumber, that fleeter were than roes, their knees,
The gods, and cloy their feet, then, in clay-ground.
At word of his Culdees, Ith cries; They lodge!
Men of some Northern speech of the blue Britons;
And those, that pass, in twilight of the stars,
Pronounce; The bard is fallen, Carvilios!
Romans have overthrown the Britons' armies:
And fell king Caradoc, the high war-sire, slain!
Cumber, that fleeter were than roes, their knees,
The gods, and cloy their feet, then, in clay-ground.
At word of his Culdees, Ith cries; They lodge!
There caterans slay and eat their evening meat,
Of oxen they had found: they chaw raw flesh:
So slumber, an hour, forth; whilst Ith consults,
With priests, Culdees, that skill of divine omens:
Carvilios being slain, should they march on?
Reads Corb; and sware, by the Ard-righ's high hand,
(Chief priest is Corb of Neit, war-rage of Erinn;)
His god would smite Carvilios' enemies.
Of oxen they had found: they chaw raw flesh:
So slumber, an hour, forth; whilst Ith consults,
With priests, Culdees, that skill of divine omens:
Carvilios being slain, should they march on?
Reads Corb; and sware, by the Ard-righ's high hand,
(Chief priest is Corb of Neit, war-rage of Erinn;)
His god would smite Carvilios' enemies.
All uprose, hastily; and sithen, at a run,
O'er wide waste field and cold; where now they rife,
Hear groans of wounded wights; those Erinn's sons
Speed, stumbling, oft on corses, shields and arms:
For many, escaped from slaughter-field, with wounds,
Be fallen down in their blood. Then Cerig put,
(Cerig, with Palador king, next under Ith,
Their thousands leads,) his finger in his mouth;
And cast, in hollow twilight of night-stars,
Shrill cry! and caterans all suspend their foot;
The whiles he of some concerning Camulodunum,
Enquires: and seized on those new fear, of death,
In whose ears, enters Erinn's uncouth speech.
O'er wide waste field and cold; where now they rife,
Hear groans of wounded wights; those Erinn's sons
Speed, stumbling, oft on corses, shields and arms:
For many, escaped from slaughter-field, with wounds,
Be fallen down in their blood. Then Cerig put,
220
Their thousands leads,) his finger in his mouth;
And cast, in hollow twilight of night-stars,
Shrill cry! and caterans all suspend their foot;
The whiles he of some concerning Camulodunum,
Enquires: and seized on those new fear, of death,
In whose ears, enters Erinn's uncouth speech.
Sleep legions, battle-weary, and even the watch
Rest leaning on their shields; when barbare shout;
Sudden, thrown up, from far, is heard, Carvilios!
Whilst the moon wide, o'er bloody field, outshines.
As when some scour of wolves have pinfold found,
Fierce sons of Ier, that light on Romans' vallum,
O'erleap the dyke; and pluck down thick pale-work,
Their barbare hands: and come, eftsoons, of Erinn,
The violent spears, to tents of Cæsar's cohorts!
That like cockt hay, they tumble to the ground;
Slaying all whom they find, Rome's drowsy soldiers.
Rest leaning on their shields; when barbare shout;
Sudden, thrown up, from far, is heard, Carvilios!
Whilst the moon wide, o'er bloody field, outshines.
As when some scour of wolves have pinfold found,
Fierce sons of Ier, that light on Romans' vallum,
O'erleap the dyke; and pluck down thick pale-work,
Their barbare hands: and come, eftsoons, of Erinn,
The violent spears, to tents of Cæsar's cohorts!
That like cockt hay, they tumble to the ground;
Slaying all whom they find, Rome's drowsy soldiers.
In that dark watch; under their rushing spears,
Crispinus, first centurion of a legion,
Fell and Licinius, of the knights of Rome.
Was Amnius wounded, marshal of the horse;
And Clodius, præfect of the Roman fleet,
Which stationed at Thames' side, was hurt to death:
Nigh Cæsar's wide pavilion, he fell down.
Cry went up, tumult in their leathern streets!
Came hideous strife, to the camps' forum-space.
With barbare yells, loud Irishry and strange Britons,
Night-castra invade, and smite victorious legions!
Crispinus, first centurion of a legion,
Fell and Licinius, of the knights of Rome.
Was Amnius wounded, marshal of the horse;
And Clodius, præfect of the Roman fleet,
Which stationed at Thames' side, was hurt to death:
Nigh Cæsar's wide pavilion, he fell down.
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Came hideous strife, to the camps' forum-space.
With barbare yells, loud Irishry and strange Britons,
Night-castra invade, and smite victorious legions!
Under skirt-hem, of his wide-stretched pavilion,
Backward, with ashen visage, trembling Claudius,
Creeps! steals without: so flees, alone, to tower,
Remained afoot, within the legions' vallum.
Backward, with ashen visage, trembling Claudius,
Creeps! steals without: so flees, alone, to tower,
Remained afoot, within the legions' vallum.
There heartless quite he climbs, who imperator
Of Roma, and without breath, as some mean soldier,
To highest scaffold. Panting, from the rungs,
Like flitter-mouse, he him flattens, then, in chink:
And, in his blind fear, quakes he evermore:
Whilst the stringed engines, in this dim night-wind,
Make murmur dread; and Cæsar fears to fall.
Of Roma, and without breath, as some mean soldier,
To highest scaffold. Panting, from the rungs,
Like flitter-mouse, he him flattens, then, in chink:
And, in his blind fear, quakes he evermore:
Whilst the stringed engines, in this dim night-wind,
Make murmur dread; and Cæsar fears to fall.
In that, yet retching from his late debauch,
He, if he wake or dream, gins wonder fast!
What means this panic terror, in blind night;
Laid he not down, midst his victorious legions?
And, else, him-thinks; and he, indeed, be Claudius
And wake; yet never, in like evil case,
Was he, to this: not even when he him shrouded,
In curtains of Caligula's chamber door;
What night, in Rome, fell the foul tyrant slain!
Whence drew him, half-dead, forth, prætorian soldiers.
He, if he wake or dream, gins wonder fast!
What means this panic terror, in blind night;
Laid he not down, midst his victorious legions?
And, else, him-thinks; and he, indeed, be Claudius
And wake; yet never, in like evil case,
Was he, to this: not even when he him shrouded,
In curtains of Caligula's chamber door;
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Whence drew him, half-dead, forth, prætorian soldiers.
Nor what time Gaius' servants, at his word,
Flung him, (the tyrant's uncle,) in Rhine-ford;
For mockery: nor when he, in late sea-voyage,
Under sere Ligur's coast, was like to perish.
Nor since his swaddling-clouts, him-thinks, he was
Like vilain wet, as Claudius is to-night;
What for this flux, and for his coward sweat:
And for, in that, from tent to tower, he scaped,
A Summer shower, before the moon was falling.
Flung him, (the tyrant's uncle,) in Rhine-ford;
For mockery: nor when he, in late sea-voyage,
Under sere Ligur's coast, was like to perish.
Nor since his swaddling-clouts, him-thinks, he was
Like vilain wet, as Claudius is to-night;
What for this flux, and for his coward sweat:
And for, in that, from tent to tower, he scaped,
A Summer shower, before the moon was falling.
Him liever were a night-crow be than Claudius!
Or quiddering swallow, neath these warlike eaves,
He himself devised. Then might he, safe, flit forth.
Would, on his bed, he were, again, in Rome,
Couched with some courtesan, to keep him warm!
No more would he, (he it promiseth to himself,)
O'er lands and seas, tempt these cerulean Britons.
Would gods now even, in Messalina's arms,
He were, his spouse; (what-though misdoubts him Claudius,
For every lithe-limbed libertine of his.)
Or quiddering swallow, neath these warlike eaves,
He himself devised. Then might he, safe, flit forth.
Would, on his bed, he were, again, in Rome,
Couched with some courtesan, to keep him warm!
No more would he, (he it promiseth to himself,)
O'er lands and seas, tempt these cerulean Britons.
Would gods now even, in Messalina's arms,
He were, his spouse; (what-though misdoubts him Claudius,
For every lithe-limbed libertine of his.)
And, aye, thrills deadly dread his craven breast,
Of some here lurking homicide enemies.
Shall Cæsar, living gods, and spirit of Julius!
In barbare soil, mongst yells of salvage wights,
Perish? Must he be cast away to-night!
How were Rome dimmed, to all succeeding ages,
If, of Etruscan folk, so great a lamp;
If he, miscarried! Over land and seas,
Should seem the Latin sun, no more, to rise!
Of some here lurking homicide enemies.
Shall Cæsar, living gods, and spirit of Julius!
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Perish? Must he be cast away to-night!
How were Rome dimmed, to all succeeding ages,
If, of Etruscan folk, so great a lamp;
If he, miscarried! Over land and seas,
Should seem the Latin sun, no more, to rise!
Thus, like a cart-wheel, whirls his foolish thought;
Aye, full of shrinking dread, in the tower-loft:
To hear those fearful slaughter-cries, aghast.
Shivers cup-shotten Claudius, at each sound!
He starts, gropes then, to find him some new sconce,
Among these grim balistæ and catapults.
Aye, full of shrinking dread, in the tower-loft:
To hear those fearful slaughter-cries, aghast.
Shivers cup-shotten Claudius, at each sound!
He starts, gropes then, to find him some new sconce,
Among these grim balistæ and catapults.
Last Cæsar wries him, in hard leathern lap,
Of hammered ox-hide; pitched, and two-fold plight
It is; full, (that tower's apron,) of iron studs.
And, aye, his brow, yet totty of his must,
So swims, that now this tower he fears should fall!
He, all aghast, the ladder would truss up;
Lest here him find his enemies. Ah, great gods,
Augustus, Julius! Is it nailed so fast?
Whence, almost, in him, dies his panting heart.
He felt, as through his reins, cold glaive did glide;
And come is now dark death. In that, his spirits
Dismayed, he hears men mounting by the stair,
With barbare shout! Him-seemeth his soul, then pass!
Of hammered ox-hide; pitched, and two-fold plight
It is; full, (that tower's apron,) of iron studs.
And, aye, his brow, yet totty of his must,
So swims, that now this tower he fears should fall!
He, all aghast, the ladder would truss up;
Lest here him find his enemies. Ah, great gods,
Augustus, Julius! Is it nailed so fast?
Whence, almost, in him, dies his panting heart.
He felt, as through his reins, cold glaive did glide;
And come is now dark death. In that, his spirits
Dismayed, he hears men mounting by the stair,
With barbare shout! Him-seemeth his soul, then pass!
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Ubba, tall captain of his Almain guard,
When Cæsar, in the imperial tent, he found not;
Hath the imperator sought, on every part.
He, scornful, smally accounts now exile voice
Of Claudius, whom he finds, last, in this sort:
But drawn forth dazing Cæsar, by the hand;
To stair-head, sternly, leads; and bids dismount!
So brings on Claudius, in this moonshine, midst
Tall glittering spears, to Almains' place of guard.
When Cæsar, in the imperial tent, he found not;
Hath the imperator sought, on every part.
He, scornful, smally accounts now exile voice
Of Claudius, whom he finds, last, in this sort:
But drawn forth dazing Cæsar, by the hand;
To stair-head, sternly, leads; and bids dismount!
So brings on Claudius, in this moonshine, midst
Tall glittering spears, to Almains' place of guard.
Erinn's fierce rushing warriors, clustered bands;
Fighting their naked king around, this night,
King Ith, the living ensign of their arms;
(Hath every cateran, coursing their tent-streets,
In his first sleep, some Roman soldier slain,)
Discomfited had Rome's imperial castra;
But that some enemy-god confused their minds.
Fighting their naked king around, this night,
King Ith, the living ensign of their arms;
(Hath every cateran, coursing their tent-streets,
In his first sleep, some Roman soldier slain,)
Discomfited had Rome's imperial castra;
But that some enemy-god confused their minds.
As wind-flaw, out of the East's vast frozen jaws,
Descends, somewhile, in forest, roaring wide,
Gainst the wood-gods; and having felled large path,
Mongst the thick beams, at length, breaks bellowing forth;
So leaving wake of bloody overthrow,
Those furious sons of Ier, mongst Cæsar's legions:
Nor durst them, in vast hostile soil, pursue,
Which covers the night-shadow, Roman Aulus.
Descends, somewhile, in forest, roaring wide,
Gainst the wood-gods; and having felled large path,
Mongst the thick beams, at length, breaks bellowing forth;
So leaving wake of bloody overthrow,
Those furious sons of Ier, mongst Cæsar's legions:
225
Which covers the night-shadow, Roman Aulus.
Few furlongs' way, those Erinn-men now passed,
The stars their lamp, and moon with shallow face,
Halt around Ith. The glaives, the spears of Erinn,
Drip enemies' gore; and slimy is their weed,
Like to sea-wrack, with Romans' jelly-blood.
The stars their lamp, and moon with shallow face,
Halt around Ith. The glaives, the spears of Erinn,
Drip enemies' gore; and slimy is their weed,
Like to sea-wrack, with Romans' jelly-blood.
Yonder, lo, glimpsing lights, on Britons' walls;
From whence they hear loud wailing women's voice.
But Palador's warriors, which know no fenced dune,
Mislikes, to enter within hold, that they,
Despise, as helm and hauberk of a town.
From whence they hear loud wailing women's voice.
But Palador's warriors, which know no fenced dune,
Mislikes, to enter within hold, that they,
Despise, as helm and hauberk of a town.
Whilst, then, the naked king, with his Culdees,
Takes counsel; by high favour of some god,
Is found that sacred guest, avenged, of Erinn,
Now a cold corse, the warrior bard, Carvilios;
Whose crowth, that from his warlike shoulders hanged,
Gives dulcet sighing sound, to the night-wind!
Watcheth the noble bard, a great white hound,
In bloody field, which nourished, known to all,
His cunning hand: and wail the men of Erinn.
Takes counsel; by high favour of some god,
Is found that sacred guest, avenged, of Erinn,
Now a cold corse, the warrior bard, Carvilios;
Whose crowth, that from his warlike shoulders hanged,
Gives dulcet sighing sound, to the night-wind!
Watcheth the noble bard, a great white hound,
In bloody field, which nourished, known to all,
His cunning hand: and wail the men of Erinn.
Their spears they wipe then, all, on his fringed weed:
And bury, in place he fell, in Roman blood,
The mortal part of that undying bard.
His mantle-full, then, each one delves, of earth,
Mognet, who noblest, erst, with Palador
And Cerig; then, at brehons' word, all mound
Isle Britain's mould, o'er Gaul's great vates, dead;
Laid in his shining harness, arms and weed.
But the harp, king Ith uptook, of bard Carvilios;
To hang in Tara's house, of his sun-god:
Which aye, stirred of an heavenly wind, might sound.
And bury, in place he fell, in Roman blood,
The mortal part of that undying bard.
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Mognet, who noblest, erst, with Palador
And Cerig; then, at brehons' word, all mound
Isle Britain's mould, o'er Gaul's great vates, dead;
Laid in his shining harness, arms and weed.
But the harp, king Ith uptook, of bard Carvilios;
To hang in Tara's house, of his sun-god:
Which aye, stirred of an heavenly wind, might sound.
This hastily ended, neath the bloody sod,
Of battle-ground, they leave that glorious dead.
Then, slowly, Erinn's bands; for many are hurt,
Now towards West-shining stars, returning, march.
Ere day was risen, they entered, in swart wood.
Of battle-ground, they leave that glorious dead.
Then, slowly, Erinn's bands; for many are hurt,
Now towards West-shining stars, returning, march.
Ere day was risen, they entered, in swart wood.
Ah, when shall this dark womb of Mother-night,
The morrow's day bring forth, with cheerful face,
Ambrosial dawn, wide-shining from the East;
That seems, of righteous gods, new reign of gold?
How tarries Belin's cart again to rise!
On wretched Britons, that night-long have waked;
Day, which to dool and mourning shall be given,
For carcases, that lie cold, on the clay-ground.
Far scattered were the glast-stained hosts, to-night,
In the wind and the rain: and fasting still, for grief;
Men deem, in holt and heath, they hear their gods;
That make lament, in forest skies, above.
The morrow's day bring forth, with cheerful face,
Ambrosial dawn, wide-shining from the East;
That seems, of righteous gods, new reign of gold?
How tarries Belin's cart again to rise!
On wretched Britons, that night-long have waked;
Day, which to dool and mourning shall be given,
For carcases, that lie cold, on the clay-ground.
Far scattered were the glast-stained hosts, to-night,
In the wind and the rain: and fasting still, for grief;
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That make lament, in forest skies, above.
Within wide-girding walls of Camulus,
Wakes Dread, and paceth up and down the streets.
Few sleep; uneasy groans Caratacus.
As childing woman longeth, in her pangs,
To bear; so by her lord, Embla, to-night,
Much having watched, to see him wake and live.
From him, she wends, with dear constraint of heart,
(Daws now the day;) to visit round the walls.
Wakes Dread, and paceth up and down the streets.
Few sleep; uneasy groans Caratacus.
As childing woman longeth, in her pangs,
To bear; so by her lord, Embla, to-night,
Much having watched, to see him wake and live.
From him, she wends, with dear constraint of heart,
(Daws now the day;) to visit round the walls.
But, in that hour, the gods, that mourn, for Britain,
Another night whelmed, on her weary face.
Ride furious gusts the field; is the dark grove,
With lightnings, rent. With immane thunder-sound,
Ruin the heavens, in rain; and with sharp dint,
As shafts, smite hurled-out hail-stones, on men's shields.
Were heard as divine voices, in thick mist.
Seems dry land then vast river rolling blood.
Another night whelmed, on her weary face.
Ride furious gusts the field; is the dark grove,
With lightnings, rent. With immane thunder-sound,
Ruin the heavens, in rain; and with sharp dint,
As shafts, smite hurled-out hail-stones, on men's shields.
Were heard as divine voices, in thick mist.
Seems dry land then vast river rolling blood.
Under the dripping eaves of bramble banks,
Neath teil-tree, thorn, broad beech and great limbed oaks;
And where the squirrel leaps in dim pine-forest,
Shield them the scattered and afflicted Britons:
They cower, in brakes, a wounded multitude!
Neath teil-tree, thorn, broad beech and great limbed oaks;
And where the squirrel leaps in dim pine-forest,
Shield them the scattered and afflicted Britons:
They cower, in brakes, a wounded multitude!
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Romans, when day is risen, yet keep their camps,
For hurtling rain; which chaceth tempest's rage,
Of the wild wind. Their leathern tents, till eve,
Might hold, uneath. When goes sun's eye, at length,
Down, from that bloody brow of slaughter-world;
Hand-clappings, strange; and women's funeral chant,
Sound from the dune. Down-howling, from the hills,
Wakens this sullen night, then voice of wolves:
That even the enemies rue, which cannot sleep!
For hurtling rain; which chaceth tempest's rage,
Of the wild wind. Their leathern tents, till eve,
Might hold, uneath. When goes sun's eye, at length,
Down, from that bloody brow of slaughter-world;
Hand-clappings, strange; and women's funeral chant,
Sound from the dune. Down-howling, from the hills,
Wakens this sullen night, then voice of wolves:
That even the enemies rue, which cannot sleep!
Now the after-morrow of that day, when Claudius,
(Whose inward aches, what, for the fear, forepast,)
Yet pale, beheld, nigh-hand, death's griesly face,
With Aulus and his præfect, of the camps,
The legions' tribunes, and few Roman knights;
He rides, the situation and the strength,
To view, midst guard of horse, of Britons' banks.
Doth his heart boot, to see wide field of fight,
The enemies' gore, yet purpling as an heath!
(Whose inward aches, what, for the fear, forepast,)
Yet pale, beheld, nigh-hand, death's griesly face,
With Aulus and his præfect, of the camps,
The legions' tribunes, and few Roman knights;
He rides, the situation and the strength,
To view, midst guard of horse, of Britons' banks.
Doth his heart boot, to see wide field of fight,
The enemies' gore, yet purpling as an heath!
Gazing those Roman captains, long, admire
Bulwarks of Camulodunum, gates and dykes,
Wide rampires more than banks of Verulam ere.
Vaunts gat-toothed Claudius; Like Epeius' steed,
Those walls, of Britain's Ilium, soon o'erride,
Should towers of his. Then Aulus, in two castra,
Departs his legions. Whilst shall that, yond Colne,
Watch; should this other, in great Cæsar's view,
Begin the siege. He sends men, hew down trees;
And frame new towers, for battery. And certain horse,
Sends back, with Cæsar's letters, from these camps,
Bidding them speed; and that by only night,
As fearing yet the spersed blue Britons' war-carts.
Bulwarks of Camulodunum, gates and dykes,
Wide rampires more than banks of Verulam ere.
Vaunts gat-toothed Claudius; Like Epeius' steed,
Those walls, of Britain's Ilium, soon o'erride,
Should towers of his. Then Aulus, in two castra,
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Watch; should this other, in great Cæsar's view,
Begin the siege. He sends men, hew down trees;
And frame new towers, for battery. And certain horse,
Sends back, with Cæsar's letters, from these camps,
Bidding them speed; and that by only night,
As fearing yet the spersed blue Britons' war-carts.
They rescript bear, unto that naval castrum,
Which by Thames' mouth. Servants of Cogidubnos,
Them guide by woods. The third day, they arrive.
The letters read, prescribe; that sail the ships,
To Camulodunum, to the camps of legions.
Which by Thames' mouth. Servants of Cogidubnos,
Them guide by woods. The third day, they arrive.
The letters read, prescribe; that sail the ships,
To Camulodunum, to the camps of legions.
Cælius, now naval præfect, drawn his fleet
Out, to the tide; embarked his eager soldiers,
At eve: and sith, by covert night, stands forth
To the sea-deep, to shun the pirates' navy.
Blue Britons' corses all unburied lie,
Out, to the tide; embarked his eager soldiers,
At eve: and sith, by covert night, stands forth
To the sea-deep, to shun the pirates' navy.
This third day in the field, before the walls
Of Camulus. Even spoilers of the dead,
Pity; so loath the carrion-hopping crows;
And snarling voice of wolves sound in men's ears.
And, yet, ward many of the woad-stained dead,
Gaunt hounds, gainst howling wolves and all the world,
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Nor, hunger-slain, a moment, they forsake,
This third day now, their dead: mote spoilers pierce
Them, with their spears; to reave, of their slain lords,
The bracelets, brooches, fine lawn weed, bright glaives;
Collars of noble wights and charioteers.
But lest such charnel should breed pestilence,
Tribunes of legions, sieging round the town,
Send captive chain-bands forth, that, strewing earth,
Should cover, from sun's ray, blue dead of Britons.
| The Dawn in Britain | |