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

The old king, oft, in dreams, beholds a god;
Him beckoning unto soil of Sacred Erinn;
Land of the dying Sun, that Second Britain.
Wherefore, interpreters called of visions, druids;
Sith fair Duffreynt lies waste, and Isca burned;
The king, (dune, where dwelt his old royal sires,)
Is minded, sorrowing, o'er West seas, to pass.

Moreo'er hath sent now Ith, to kings in Britain,
His message; should, in Erinn, fields be given,
To Britons, which would flee Rome's servitude;
Esteeming riches, not to live oppressed.

Then banned, is, in all borders of Duffreynt,
That king Duneda fares to Soil of Erinn,
To sojourn there, till gods, expulse strange Romans.
Come; whoso would, with king Duneda, embark,
To him, at Aber Kambilan, with their stuff!

Now, when heard Flavius, of there gathering Britons;
The duke, with speed, returns, from Antethrigus:
But, with oft onset, of swift hovering scythe-carts,
Troubles the hero each Roman march; till, last,
He was bewrayed, of Belges, where he is:
For had a price set Flavius on his head.

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Vespasian compassed, sleeping then in grove,
Him, and his champions; where no water was.
Being come day's heat, is fought, with hurled-out javelins.
But Flavius, that none enemies scape thereout,
His soldiers hath, commanded, dig; and bank,
Around them, cast. Romans and Britons strive,
Till eve; when now blue warriors thirst and faint:
Falls sith a dew, which somedeal them refreshed.

Now slumber soldiers; which, in haste, have supped;
Without the cast of slings and shot of darts.
Only the watch, with glaives strained in their hands,
Listen each bruit of the forest leaves!

Stand Britons, waiting sign of Antethrigus,
Now, in wood-side, all ready to leap forth:
Waits the hero, on an omen from his gods.
Flits a wood-howlet! and the dusk night thwarts,
Before the fierce eyes of strong Antethrigus.
Then that great Briton, certain now of death,
Rent oaken leafy bough; and bound his span-
Wide front therewith: hark, imprecation makes
The hero, to his gods; for Britons' health,
Vowing his body and blood, to Camulus!

Smiting then palms together, he gave sign;

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And first, with long bright glaive, breaks forth on Romans!
He fell out on them, as stoops hawk from cliff:
And seemed, in that he o'erleapt his enemies' dyke;
Some battle-god, with lightning in his hand!
East-men hurl javelins, which, in their murk grove,
Were fallen. From the two parts, Vespasian's soldiers,
Whom clarion wakens! uprisen; run, in harness.
They hem, they Britons close-in, at their backs.
This glory give to Flavius, Roman gods,
Take so great barbare captain; on whom, next
To Caradoc, leaned the estate of all South Britons.

Is told, when drunken was his desperate blade,
With slaughter blood, and he himself hurt oft,
Of darts; as he pursued a helm-bright Roman,
In that the moon, from dim skies, shone a moment,
With low and little light; the hero's foot,
In corded beechen root, latcht. Rusht, woeworth!
To ground, he, ón broad targe, and on his face,
And lay full still. He, parted from his own,
For loss of blood, faints mongst his enemies!

On Antethrigus' neck, leapt harnessed soldiers;
And on his mighty limbs, and his large chest!
And they him, back and side, anon, have pierced.

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Is none, of all that brave him round, with dart
Or glaive, is in his hand, which doth not hurt,
To death, great enemy, dying Antethrigus!
Who gave, with groan, the ghost. Lifted, some one,
Last those long yellow locks, his head offsmote.

Though, from his shoulders, the grim poll be lopped;
They stare, with fear, still, on his threatful face;
Whose barbare blue eyes, dazing now in death,
Seem adders, that gaze from some baleful bush:
And ring-gold seemed the hero's ravelled locks;
And like to harvest shocks, his side-long beard,
Unkempt; for Antethrigus kept his oath.
And was, in days of great Cunobelin,
And of his warlike sons, the Britons' wont;
That freeborn men, and all of warlike age;
(Save the lip-beard, in token of Camulus,)
Go shaven-faced. Lo, on a pole, borne forth,
That mighty head of East-land's magistrate,
Seemed tawny jowl of boar, with hideous mane.
They crucify the hero's corse, whose stature,
Exceeds that, by two spans, of any Roman.

Not many, of East-men's champions, scaped that night,

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The Romans' glaive. They few, was overmatched,
Their valour and great force, of numbers' weight.
Yet some, next night, returned; from Roman cross,
Stole body; and bury, of gréat slain Antethrigus!

Sith, on much journeying foot-folk, to Duneda,
Come nigh to Camel-mouth, fall Flavius' soldiers.
In that inglorious victory, of Roman cohorts,
Over an unarmed barbare multitude, was
Gathered much prey, of weed and ornaments.

Who scaped, lamenting, from the Gaulish horse,
Embarked, with king Duneda, in many ships.
The weeping Britons, as they drew up sail,
Prayed their sea-gods, that might they safely pass!

A second day, they welter, in West deep:
Then touch their prows, to soil of Sacred Erinn.
Descends the sire Duneda. Is Westing now
Sun to world's brink; and seems wide firmament
Pavilion, lo, of purple and fine gold,
Of Erinn's gods. Then first, with covered head,
And stretcht forth his washed palms, he, reverent, them
Salutes, which have here name of chiefest gods.
Sith demons of the ground, air, floods and woods,
And well-springs. All then, leap out of their prows,
His people, unto shore of this new Britain!

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Now; and for not possible were renew, this year,
The Roman war; with Maglos and caterfs,
Ships, from an isle, erst tongue of land, warlord
Caratacus: for whilst, behind their steps,
They digged, to fence them from their enemies;
It so, inrushing tide, deep channel made,
(And seemed then fight, for Britons, Eagor, god!)
And wide; there might none Romans overwade.
Sith lords and warriors, in Duneda's ships,
To Caerwent sailed; return, to Moelmabon.

Thence Caradoc sends to North and Midland kings;
Bidding them come, to him, to certain place;
Which great stones compass-in, by Upper Hafren.