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The Dawn in Britain

by Charles M. Doughty

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Then war renewed, in Britain, as at erst.
Fires, on all beacon hills smoke; flame, by night!
The legate marching, with assembled cohorts,
Them, each day, leads, in view of blue caterfs;
But aye the more, with ensigns and with chariots,
Grows glast-stained host: come scythe-carts, from the North.
What hour, one eve, wont Romans halt, to lodge,
Rush suddenly forth blue Britons, from green wood,
With dreadful cries. Who first, thick spears, arrive;
Fall on the legions' muniment. Saw blue Britons,
That fight neath wicker shields, then Romans' backs.
Fly cohorts, on whom Panic-fear hath seized.
Britons, with loud cries occupy their castra!
Blue warriors, songs to Andates, chant that night,
Of victory; ánd they draw-off bloody harness,

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In broad moonshine, of their slain enemies.
In that field's midst, they heap then Roman arms.
Come dawn, some Britons, climbed into tall trees,
No more perceive those Roman fugitive soldiers!
Who came, with staves and bills, cast these away;
And choose them, of all Roman spoil, out arms.
Seven captive ensigns, Caradoc sends be borne,
On swift feet, through all marches of free Britons.