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

When Cæsar passed hath the pavilion's porch;
Those damsels, suddenly, ah, greedy of their deaths!
Together, at a run, brast furious forth.
They, with their fisted hands, did smite aside
The watch: they beat back harnessed legionaries;
Such pith, in women's arms, of the bold Britons!
The Almains' guard, then easily they forerun;

And, in yet smouldering pit, full of deep fires,
Where, of god Camulus, erst, an oracle was;
Wherein now, fallen down, burning mighty beams!
Those noble virgins, frantic, start, alas!

Where fell they, in fiery powderous hearth, alas!
Brief was their torment; surged a folding flame,
Crowns and consumes the glory of their gilt locks.
Their eyes, that wont, like molten stars, on Romans,
Shed scorn, be sightless cinders made, anon.
And veiled, in modest wise, round, that crude flame,
Their gracious limbs, that sink, down soon, in death.
Seemed, noble Briton maids, your saviour gods
Allay, of your pure flesh, the dying smart!
And yet they, a moment, wreathe, and did uprise;
As when cast gobbets, on some temple-hearth!
Horrible, anon, arose, as smell of roast,
Of them, the parfume of whose life was such
As spring-time's virgin-bosom of the earth.

Then come few soldiers; those gaze-in aghast!
And some was heard reproach old doting Claudius:
Yet answered other, Better thus their deaths,
Than, with long bondage, when deflowered their years;
And slaves their maiden's honour had possessed!

So came, half-drunken, leaning on the hand
Of Asiaticus, fond imperial Claudius;
Somewhat, by this new-rushing, in the night,
Amazed; though follow guard of Ubba's spears.
Cæsar, at the pit's brink, stayed; and admired,
To look on Priam's daughters' fiery grave!
Fell, from the blear eyes of his totty head,
Therein, few rheumy drops. Might Scævola's deed,
In stories old, not be compared to this,
Quoth he, that burn themselves the Britons' dead!