The Dawn in Britain :: :: University of Virginia Library

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.

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.

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.

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Then he besought the queen, send his young warriors;
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!

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.

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:

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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.

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.

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.

Seen how new Britons pass, so rathe, the Colne;
Flavius (opposed, to them, his wide-ranged legion,)

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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.

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.

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.)

White-armed, mongst the woad-stained, that Northern queen,

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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.

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.

Vexillarii.