The Dawn in Britain by Charles M. Doughty |
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 | The Dawn in Britain |  |
Now kings and lords, together, there arrived;
Sit down, in circuit, with Caratacus.
Comes lateward to them, here, divine Manannan;
Ridden on his mule, from Mona, by hill-paths.
Unlooked for, last, came, from beyond seas, Thorolf!
Marched with stem-fighters, only, of two ships.
Sit down, in circuit, with Caratacus.
Comes lateward to them, here, divine Manannan;
Ridden on his mule, from Mona, by hill-paths.
Unlooked for, last, came, from beyond seas, Thorolf!
Marched with stem-fighters, only, of two ships.
By word of Veleda's mouth, the prophetess; wars,
Which lately had king Wittig, were composed.
From Elbe-mouth, boldly then, in Winter-season,
The ethling sailed; and steered towards Island Britain:
Where would he see, (great kinsman of his house,)
How Caradoc fares. Touched land, in Meltraith Fleet,
Those Almain prows; whence he, with guides, ascended,
Through fens, through woods, of East and Midland Britons;
Where, new built, not few strongholds, he, of Romans,
Beheld; by fords' heads, and land-passages.
Which lately had king Wittig, were composed.
From Elbe-mouth, boldly then, in Winter-season,
The ethling sailed; and steered towards Island Britain:
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How Caradoc fares. Touched land, in Meltraith Fleet,
Those Almain prows; whence he, with guides, ascended,
Through fens, through woods, of East and Midland Britons;
Where, new built, not few strongholds, he, of Romans,
Beheld; by fords' heads, and land-passages.
Thorolf, his homicide spear, (for none might armed
Enter that doom-ring,) hath, and Brennus' blade,
Without; and Weyland's moon-sheen targe, deposed.
All loud salute that royal glorious Almain,
Who now arrives! And he again them greets.
And Thorolf sate down, by Caratacus.
Enter that doom-ring,) hath, and Brennus' blade,
Without; and Weyland's moon-sheen targe, deposed.
All loud salute that royal glorious Almain,
Who now arrives! And he again them greets.
And Thorolf sate down, by Caratacus.
Propounds sith Thorolf, his heroic thought;
Come to him, sailing on sea-billows hoary;
Trine daughters of East wind: Fence all South Mark,
Twixt Hafren flood and dune of Camulus;
Calling armed multitude in of Brennid Almains!
Come to him, sailing on sea-billows hoary;
Trine daughters of East wind: Fence all South Mark,
Twixt Hafren flood and dune of Camulus;
Calling armed multitude in of Brennid Almains!
Who then, to this, persuades but Vellocatus;
Uprising, mongst them, radiant as a god!
Whole now his hurt: and being his father, Cotus,
Lord of the parts of Derwent, newly dead;
Is he a king of fair Brigantine March.
Uprising, mongst them, radiant as a god!
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Lord of the parts of Derwent, newly dead;
Is he a king of fair Brigantine March.
Gainst whom, incensed, with fierce heat, king Venutios,
(Aye, and with prophetic spirit of things far-off,
Instincted, of the ever-living gods!)
Outcries; him naming public enemy!
That would new stranger arms call in to Britain.
Have not Iceni expulsed an Almain fleet,
From harbour, at East cliffs? for were they pirates!
(Aye, and with prophetic spirit of things far-off,
Instincted, of the ever-living gods!)
Outcries; him naming public enemy!
That would new stranger arms call in to Britain.
Have not Iceni expulsed an Almain fleet,
From harbour, at East cliffs? for were they pirates!
Then seeing, how proudly him bears his adversary,
Not longer the old wárrior might refrain him;
But risen, enflamed with felon heat, passed forth:
Where snatcht, from hand of one of his, a dart;
He it hurled back, sudden, in that hallowed close!
Midst lords and Britons' kings, and sacred, druids:
And murmur rose, among them, for that deed.
Not longer the old wárrior might refrain him;
But risen, enflamed with felon heat, passed forth:
Where snatcht, from hand of one of his, a dart;
He it hurled back, sudden, in that hallowed close!
Midst lords and Britons' kings, and sacred, druids:
And murmur rose, among them, for that deed.
Venutios would have slain false Vellocatus;
But erred his pulse. The violent iron flew forth,
Eager drink blood: on pillar-stone it pight;
Where, ware-eyed, Vellocatus' hand it caught;
Who nimbly upleapt, in time, had bowed to side.
But erred his pulse. The violent iron flew forth,
Eager drink blood: on pillar-stone it pight;
Where, ware-eyed, Vellocatus' hand it caught;
Who nimbly upleapt, in time, had bowed to side.
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Full of resentment, this, before them all,
The young king shows! Bear witness lords, he cries;
He, guiltless man, doth now, in fine, renounce
All legiance, to law-breaking lord Venutios.
Seeing the moon eclipse, all fear that night.
The young king shows! Bear witness lords, he cries;
He, guiltless man, doth now, in fine, renounce
All legiance, to law-breaking lord Venutios.
Seeing the moon eclipse, all fear that night.
Lo, kings, with pomp, the third day after this,
Of their armed folk and shrill war-carts part forth;
Being all accorded, with king Caradoc,
Renew the Roman war. They, in Lent month,
Should gather, to him, armed, with new caterfs.
Of their armed folk and shrill war-carts part forth;
Being all accorded, with king Caradoc,
Renew the Roman war. They, in Lent month,
Should gather, to him, armed, with new caterfs.
But, in one chariot, with Caratacus,
Returning thence, was stayed the ethling Thorolf,
By messengers at the watering of the Theme;
Almains, come in longships, with speedy oars:
And voice pronounced, of him who leads them, (Hiradoc;)
Invade, Lord, Elbe-land other enemies!
Returning thence, was stayed the ethling Thorolf,
By messengers at the watering of the Theme;
Almains, come in longships, with speedy oars:
And voice pronounced, of him who leads them, (Hiradoc;)
Invade, Lord, Elbe-land other enemies!
Thorolf then, thrice, embraced king Caradoc;
Whilst each calls other Brother! and kissed, thrice,
On both his cheeks. The ethling parts, in haste:
The Almain hero's heart presaging ill,
By neighing of his steed. Misgives him, he
May no more tread Bret-land, in arms of Brennus!
So, sorrowful, he returns towards that sea-haven.
Whilst each calls other Brother! and kissed, thrice,
On both his cheeks. The ethling parts, in haste:
The Almain hero's heart presaging ill,
By neighing of his steed. Misgives him, he
May no more tread Bret-land, in arms of Brennus!
So, sorrowful, he returns towards that sea-haven.
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There he inships. His sea-carles row: now hoise
Blue wadmel sail, (wherein king's broidered token,
Gold-bristled boar!) on hoary Winter-deep;
In whose wild tumbling surges, aery spirits
Seem dance forth, of West-wind: but Thorolf's keel,
Proudly, the heaving billows overrides;
And tosseth to each part, her wingéd breast.
Blue wadmel sail, (wherein king's broidered token,
Gold-bristled boar!) on hoary Winter-deep;
In whose wild tumbling surges, aery spirits
Seem dance forth, of West-wind: but Thorolf's keel,
Proudly, the heaving billows overrides;
And tosseth to each part, her wingéd breast.
Who, to this shipfare, sends him merry breath;
(Wherein giant Fasolt, of the watery storm,
From land, before him flies, to the fast land,)
The mighty Lord-of-spells, King-of-the-slain,
High-father of his house, alwitty Woden;
In his sea-sleep, shows Wittig's glorious son,
The late days of Earth-world; to go before
All-doom, and last death of long-living gods;
How all must be subdued, to fatal Rome!
(Wherein giant Fasolt, of the watery storm,
From land, before him flies, to the fast land,)
The mighty Lord-of-spells, King-of-the-slain,
High-father of his house, alwitty Woden;
In his sea-sleep, shows Wittig's glorious son,
The late days of Earth-world; to go before
All-doom, and last death of long-living gods;
How all must be subdued, to fatal Rome!
Vain thing, to turn back the decree of heaven,
Were the effort of a man; though he most valorous,
In counsel and in force. The god, to Thorolf,
Makes known, Him rest few now, but glorious days:
So the three virgin Norns shaped, at his birth;
So twined their hands; so spent, from East to West,
The golden thread, in heaven, of his life's age!
His seed, nathless, should herit land of Brennus.
Were the effort of a man; though he most valorous,
In counsel and in force. The god, to Thorolf,
Makes known, Him rest few now, but glorious days:
So the three virgin Norns shaped, at his birth;
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The golden thread, in heaven, of his life's age!
His seed, nathless, should herit land of Brennus.
| The Dawn in Britain | |