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

Again, the Roman siege, till eve, endures.
Then carracks' sails and masts, of long-beaked ships
Seen standing, navy of Rome, into Colne-mouth!
Had tarried them the wind, which verred, when past
They were Thames' frith; and fell on them, sea-reek:
Whence the third morrow, (being Southward cast;)
Returned, by the two Forelands, steering North;
They, fetched Thames' tiding mouth, had safely passed;
And Fowlness sith, ingathering with the land;
Where seemed them, the element snowed of feathered kinds;
Whose clangor like to voice, at dawn, of legions,
That levy camps. Night-time, by stormy banks;
Where hollow waves and mingled Syrtes seemed
Contend, and yelling Britons from sea-brinks;
They slowly sailed. But undescried Rome's navy
Was, of those swart, wing-breasted, long-ribbed, keels,
With nimble dragon-stems; which for them wait,

Under the grey East wind, of Saxon pirates.
Land-inward now they fleet on Colne's salt tide.

Sent Embla; and called then elders of the dune.
And come those, soon, in king's hall, to the queen;
They do behold, (who seems, ah, nigh to death!)
Laid on a bed, warsire Caratacus.

And seeing now they, by sea and land, beset,
Not longer, might endure; but every hour,
This city in danger lies of leaguering Romans:
She deems, (as was established before-hand,)
The sire to save forth, in a covered cart.

In troublous hour, of sorrowful last loss,
They thank queen Embla, and praise her pious read.
Make ready, a líght wain soon, some, and yoke-steeds;
Other call Andred archers, for their guard,
From the sieged walls. Who noblest do therein,
Lo, reverent lift, (on pillows, now borne forth,
Swooning, yet all his sense dismayed,) sire Caradoc!

With mournful cheer, and harnessed as she is,
Queen Embla mounts. His sacred head upbear
Her wifely knees: and troubled cast to ground,
Britons their weary looks; when now they fare.
For, (queen of all their hearts!) were, without her,
As moonless night, this dune besieged, on Colne.

She, more than walls, was rampire of the town.
They, lifting up sad eyes, on Caradoc, gaze,
Britain's warsire, whom should they see no more;
Looking, for their own deaths, upon the morrow!

Now covertly, on float of beams, is wafted o'er,
The king's wain; to yond fenny brinks of Colne.
(Claudius, new muster maketh of his legions;
Wherefore his horse and cohorts were withdrawn,
By favour of the gods, down in the plain,
To hindward of the dune, this afternoon!)
Three hundred Andred bows, the warlord ward:
And as they from salt strand, up, fearful fare;
Much Embla, in heart, prays, to her Briton gods,
They might win safe, to far-off fords, of Ouse!

Queen Cartismandua, sith, (to whom queen Embla
Had message sent;) from Camulus' river-walls,
Now dusking the air, in like sort, lo, outfares:
The Northern queen outfares, with Vellocatus!
That prince upholding, in Brigantine chariot,
Drawn of white steeds. And leans his manly face,
That languishing seemeth dead, on the queen's breast!
Whence, falling long adown, his golden locks,
Are hers, in lovely wise, confused with his.
Brigantine guard, (tall champions of her house,)
March, with the queen's wain forth, as sixty spears.

But, sith, she her steals from Embla, in dim night;
When passing forest-places; and is cause
The cold chaste looks, to Cartismandua, are loath,
Of that sad queen, still seeming her reprove.