 | The Dawn in Britain |  |
In Britons' fields, where harvest-month now ended,
(Burned is earth's fruit; or stands unreaped and lost!)
Falls rain incessantly; wherefore might the Romans
Abide, no longer, under tented skins.
Then dukes, to winter-camps, withdraw their legions.
Vespasian marched, to site commodious,
For corn and pasture; where, amongst fair hills,
With temperate air, are certain scalding springs,
Of Sul, (Minerva of Britons,) healing goddess.
(Burned is earth's fruit; or stands unreaped and lost!)
Falls rain incessantly; wherefore might the Romans
Abide, no longer, under tented skins.
Then dukes, to winter-camps, withdraw their legions.
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For corn and pasture; where, amongst fair hills,
With temperate air, are certain scalding springs,
Of Sul, (Minerva of Britons,) healing goddess.
There, lo, of sick folk, is an open dune,
Where wont, in bowers, those sit, all day, beside
Blue vaporous conduits, dipping oft their limbs;
And drinking, oft, they snuff-up luwarm reek,
Casting-in gifts. Vespasian, now arriving;
That none have fear, proclaims: who, from the war,
There wounded lie, shall yield their only arms.
Where wont, in bowers, those sit, all day, beside
Blue vaporous conduits, dipping oft their limbs;
And drinking, oft, they snuff-up luwarm reek,
Casting-in gifts. Vespasian, now arriving;
That none have fear, proclaims: who, from the war,
There wounded lie, shall yield their only arms.
Entering, with reverence, then, the legions' duke,
Sul's temple-cave; whence issues tepid reek,
Of boiling well; great Flavius, to that goddess,
Sacellum vowed, and that of polished stones;
If, by her virtuous spring, were healed his son,
Titus, hurt, in the assault of Moridunion.
Sul's temple-cave; whence issues tepid reek,
Of boiling well; great Flavius, to that goddess,
Sacellum vowed, and that of polished stones;
If, by her virtuous spring, were healed his son,
Titus, hurt, in the assault of Moridunion.
Concerning the well-bourn, and baths of Sul;
Is told, in antique story, of certain king,
How, peradventure, he those waters found;
Where opened had the soil, an heaven's lightning.
Is told, in antique story, of certain king,
How, peradventure, he those waters found;
Where opened had the soil, an heaven's lightning.
Bladud, surnamed the Wolf, of those few lords
Was, which, from wars in Spain, returned with Belin.
Come now from the Mainland, he homeward fares:
And Bladud journeying forth, in Britain, prayed,
To Belisama, his safeguarding goddess.
The king, one dawn, impatient forth to wend;
Wight, of strange aspect, took him, by the hand,
The other, on his bridle royal laid!
Was, which, from wars in Spain, returned with Belin.
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And Bladud journeying forth, in Britain, prayed,
To Belisama, his safeguarding goddess.
The king, one dawn, impatient forth to wend;
Wight, of strange aspect, took him, by the hand,
The other, on his bridle royal laid!
That Stranger's fashion was of shepherd hind;
Yet more his stature, than the human, seemed.
Even so, it pleased transfigure her the bright goddess.
Nor he resisting, Belisama leads,
Where trooping sheep-flocks, scald with evil fare.
Through reeking well-bourn them the goddess drives;
And they go healed up, on that further shore!
Yet more his stature, than the human, seemed.
Even so, it pleased transfigure her the bright goddess.
Nor he resisting, Belisama leads,
Where trooping sheep-flocks, scald with evil fare.
Through reeking well-bourn them the goddess drives;
And they go healed up, on that further shore!
Though looked he wide, then, in large field, and sought;
King Bladud saw that herding-groom no more.
So lighted he, the virtuous brook, more near,
To view, down from his jaded steed; which forth
Feeds, wavering from him, in the sappy grass.
But the steed, yonder, sliding, in much mire,
Fell, in that sheep-bourn: wallowing then uprose
He, all stained his bards; but, shook him, with proud crest,
Loud neighing, unto battle and brood-mares.
King Bladud saw that herding-groom no more.
So lighted he, the virtuous brook, more near,
To view, down from his jaded steed; which forth
Feeds, wavering from him, in the sappy grass.
But the steed, yonder, sliding, in much mire,
Fell, in that sheep-bourn: wallowing then uprose
He, all stained his bards; but, shook him, with proud crest,
Loud neighing, unto battle and brood-mares.
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The king, admiring! in that bourn then cast
Iberian captive, all with long foot-march,
Fordone; wretch, without hope; which, this morn, was
By wayside, left; where wolves, his abject corse,
Had rent, to-night: but, from that healing ooze,
Lifting, to heaven, his palms, thanking his gods;
Revived, as in his youth, that captive rose!
Iberian captive, all with long foot-march,
Fordone; wretch, without hope; which, this morn, was
By wayside, left; where wolves, his abject corse,
Had rent, to-night: but, from that healing ooze,
Lifting, to heaven, his palms, thanking his gods;
Revived, as in his youth, that captive rose!
Bladud then, in the channel, washed his flesh,
Weary of long travail; wherein, gins to creep
Now lustless eld; and eftsoons the sire feels
His former pith renew, and warlike force;
And, from his heart, is wiped all rust, even as
From a new-furbished glaive. He caused his servants,
Then delve the bosom of that healing mould;
And open conduits. Bladud timbered, sith,
Baths, for sick folk; and himself there abode:
But Sul, name of the goddess of that ground,
Was to the slumbering king, revealed, in vision.
Weary of long travail; wherein, gins to creep
Now lustless eld; and eftsoons the sire feels
His former pith renew, and warlike force;
And, from his heart, is wiped all rust, even as
From a new-furbished glaive. He caused his servants,
Then delve the bosom of that healing mould;
And open conduits. Bladud timbered, sith,
Baths, for sick folk; and himself there abode:
But Sul, name of the goddess of that ground,
Was to the slumbering king, revealed, in vision.
Is this that Bladud, whom derne whispering voice,
Stirred, of familiar demon, in his ears:
Who tempting fly, from Troynovant, to the gods;
In view of there great marvelling people's press,
Fell dasht, on Belin's temple-roof, to death!
Stirred, of familiar demon, in his ears:
Who tempting fly, from Troynovant, to the gods;
In view of there great marvelling people's press,
Fell dasht, on Belin's temple-roof, to death!
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The prætor Aulus winters now in Kent.
His quæstor everywhere the Britons' corn,
Exacts, whose harvest lost; nor mercy hath.
At his approach, him roused, then Dumnoveros,
Warden of Kent's shore, for Caratacus.
With all the remnant, of Kent's matchless scythecarts;
Crowned, with oak leaves, his brows, that sire rides forth.
His quæstor everywhere the Britons' corn,
Exacts, whose harvest lost; nor mercy hath.
At his approach, him roused, then Dumnoveros,
Warden of Kent's shore, for Caratacus.
With all the remnant, of Kent's matchless scythecarts;
Crowned, with oak leaves, his brows, that sire rides forth.
Leading swift chariots, he repulsed proud Romans;
Falling, from thickets, on them, and hill-woods;
And last, where streaming Medway would they pass.
And ever, mongst who foremost fighters, seen;
Though bowed for eld and rheums, was Dumnoveros:
Till him swift dart attained, which his breast pierced.
His frighted steeds swerved, when the reins fell forth,
From his old dying hands; and, in brier-bush,
Was caught the cart: they it shook, and broke the beam.
Tumbled that long-aged sire, and yielded breath!
Nor since was noised, deceased king Caradoc,
Desired he longer life: and fell his champions,
Him round, that sought save forth the royal corse.
Ere night, took Romans Durovernium walls.
Falling, from thickets, on them, and hill-woods;
And last, where streaming Medway would they pass.
And ever, mongst who foremost fighters, seen;
Though bowed for eld and rheums, was Dumnoveros:
Till him swift dart attained, which his breast pierced.
His frighted steeds swerved, when the reins fell forth,
From his old dying hands; and, in brier-bush,
Was caught the cart: they it shook, and broke the beam.
Tumbled that long-aged sire, and yielded breath!
Nor since was noised, deceased king Caradoc,
Desired he longer life: and fell his champions,
Him round, that sought save forth the royal corse.
Ere night, took Romans Durovernium walls.
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To Cæsar's arms, then yield them Lemanis,
And Dubris, Cantion havens; sith Anderida,
To Plautius, last submitted Rutupîa;
Wherein the widow of slain Heroidel weeps;
Far from his own, who lies, a buried corse!
And Dubris, Cantion havens; sith Anderida,
To Plautius, last submitted Rutupîa;
Wherein the widow of slain Heroidel weeps;
Far from his own, who lies, a buried corse!
But Aulus sends a power, to Andred forest;
To punish those hurst-dwellers, whom, in aid,
Caratacus hád called forth, to Camulodunum.
And are there mines of iron; whence Britons armed,
He hears, were to the war: wold very great
And murk; wherein, for latticed boughs, uneath,
Men pass: and archers climbed, from shroud of leaves,
Durst shoot, unseen, down shafts, on marching soldiers.
Fall many; nor might Romans wreak their deaths.
To punish those hurst-dwellers, whom, in aid,
Caratacus hád called forth, to Camulodunum.
And are there mines of iron; whence Britons armed,
He hears, were to the war: wold very great
And murk; wherein, for latticed boughs, uneath,
Men pass: and archers climbed, from shroud of leaves,
Durst shoot, unseen, down shafts, on marching soldiers.
Fall many; nor might Romans wreak their deaths.
But when had Thorolf heard, in Verulamion,
That great discomfiture, before Camulodunum;
Nor hope rests, to renew the war, this year;
And now the days, at hand, of winter tempest;
Leaving five hundred helms, to Catuvelaunians,
And glaives, with all his spoils of arms and harness,
(Till come New-year,) to hold Cunobelin's walls;
He leads, to Hiradoc, maugré horse of Romans,
His hostings, through East March, to Branodunum:
Under whose cliffs, yet ride his dragon-keels.
That great discomfiture, before Camulodunum;
Nor hope rests, to renew the war, this year;
And now the days, at hand, of winter tempest;
Leaving five hundred helms, to Catuvelaunians,
And glaives, with all his spoils of arms and harness,
(Till come New-year,) to hold Cunobelin's walls;
He leads, to Hiradoc, maugré horse of Romans,
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Under whose cliffs, yet ride his dragon-keels.
There they, with a loud Woden-chant, embarked,
Life anchors; and blue broad sail-wings up-hoise,
For Albis' mouth: where, Wittig, Thorolf hears,
Sits daily gazing from Forseti's cliff,
To see his son's shield-scaled snake-ships sail home.
Life anchors; and blue broad sail-wings up-hoise,
For Albis' mouth: where, Wittig, Thorolf hears,
Sits daily gazing from Forseti's cliff,
To see his son's shield-scaled snake-ships sail home.
| The Dawn in Britain | |