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

Now eve; and turns, in twilight, from Caerwent;
Whither the foster sent him, (when his sons
Were come again, from the woadstained caterfs,
With Maglos and warlord Caratacus,)
Their thrall. But he, arrived, finds empty house;
Nor burning hearth, nor beasts, nor any wight.

Sith following, in the moonshine, their wheels' trace,
He his household finds, with strangers dead, pyre-laid!
And who last died, was fallen forth on the wood.
Is Beichiad he perceives, who midst them lies;
Well-known, unto the thrall, his noble face,
So like king Caradoc. Loud, he mourns; nor wots
How all his, thus, not battle-slain, lie dead!
None, save their old house-hound, that howling wards
The sacred corses, yet, is left alive;
And oxen of the plough, with drooping heads.

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That thrall, long marvelling, in the bleak moonlight,
Stood sighing: last he spark of flint-flake, strake;
Blew, cherished, twixt his palms, the kindling flame;
Which, crackling, with much smoke, to frosty stars,
Ascends. So hardly he, in frozen ground,
Digged, and this night-time, opened hasty grave;
Wherein, at day, with sighs, their cindered bones
He laid. He stayed not enter in the house;
But took his way, all weary as he was.
By forest, wild, he went back, and he ran;
And repassed Hafren, came to Deheubarth,
And showed king Caradoc his brother's death!