The Dawn in Britain by Charles M. Doughty |
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 | The Dawn in Britain |  |
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.
186
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;
189
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.
| The Dawn in Britain | |