 | The Dawn in Britain |  |
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BOOK XX
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ARGUMENT
Britons' camp. Druids signify that the people go not without their wall, to fight. Some, which heard not the druids' ban, leap down to battle. Then Britons issue, on all parts. Caratacus proceeds himself, to the middest strife. Whilst the sun upmounts, their gods favour the Britons; but when high noon is past, prevail the mightier gods of Rome.
A slingstone stuns king Caradoc. His noblest champions bear the warlord forth, from battle-press. Belisama incites Camulus to save, with her, Caratacus. The foot of Publius, the prætor's son, first stands upon the Britons' work. Ergund falls; and now the hill-camp is full of Roman slaughter. Soldiers kill even suppliants unarmed, and women, at smoking altars of the druids. Ostorius commands, to spare the vanquished.
Kynan, Hælion and Maglos with Kowain, leading their armed youth, ascend, to join them unto king Caratacus. Ostorius suddenly assails them, in their march. Kowain, Maglos and Hælion, valorously fighting, are slain. Kynan, escaped by hap, buries the fallen lords and warriors of blue Britons.
Caratacus was saved, with few, from Colonnuwy field, to an hill-cave. Hiradoc, one of the lords with him, sends thence a messenger to Venutios: but he, being deceived by certain riders of Cartismandua, with whom he meets, returns, their guide unto Caratacus. King Caratacus and his lords, part, with false Calduc and his men; to go, as they supposed, unto Venutios.
Those treacherously rise upon him and his peers, in their
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Caratacus is delivered to Ostorius legate; who conveys back the king of Britons, to Romans' stative camp on Thames; where, not long after, queen Embla, also, is led in, captive. The legate sends Caratacus, to Dover port.
Caratacus and Embla come again; (but captives, now,) to sovereign Rome. Venutios meets with, and slays the horsefolk of Vellocatus. Cartismandua sends Fagl, prince of airrunning spirits, to Ostorius, requiring aid. The Roman duke marches to Isurium. Princes of neighbour tribes submit to the Romans. Cartismandua is soon weary of the Roman garrison. That queen's last miserable estate.
Caratacus and Embla, come unto Rome, are cast into the Gemonium. Claudius Cæsar shows Caratacus to the Romans. Caradoc and Embla are led forth, to their deaths.
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Caratacus beholds, of his caterfs,
The countenance; how not many old in war!
Much part were children; when, to Britain, Claudius
O'erpassed. And cries the hero, with main voice;
For avarice, Romans, fight; we for our gods,
This foster soil, our cattle, our sacred hearths.
If we be vanquished, what shall rest to us,
In our own Land, but the ignominy of stripes;
And, captives, to be sold to servitude!
And ye, O wives, and shamefast maids, be thralls!
Of your chaste bodies, to luxurious Romans.
Help Gods! And, brothers, lifting now our hands,
Vow we all preys! He ceased, and groan blue Britons.
The countenance; how not many old in war!
Much part were children; when, to Britain, Claudius
O'erpassed. And cries the hero, with main voice;
For avarice, Romans, fight; we for our gods,
This foster soil, our cattle, our sacred hearths.
If we be vanquished, what shall rest to us,
In our own Land, but the ignominy of stripes;
And, captives, to be sold to servitude!
And ye, O wives, and shamefast maids, be thralls!
Of your chaste bodies, to luxurious Romans.
Help Gods! And, brothers, lifting now our hands,
Vow we all preys! He ceased, and groan blue Britons.
Dire shrieks, of frantic women, smite men's ears!
Are ancient wives, bereaved of warlike sons;
And spouses whose long hairs loost to the wind,
Yet in young age, made widows, in these wars.
Their shrill cry is, for vengeance, to high gods!
They dance then, with joined hands, in furious choirs.
To magic chant, kindling all hearts! of druids.
Whereafter, caught brands, from the altar-hearths;
They, madding, mongst that glast-stained people ran!
Are ancient wives, bereaved of warlike sons;
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Yet in young age, made widows, in these wars.
Their shrill cry is, for vengeance, to high gods!
They dance then, with joined hands, in furious choirs.
To magic chant, kindling all hearts! of druids.
Whereafter, caught brands, from the altar-hearths;
They, madding, mongst that glast-stained people ran!
Druids, which yet gaze, on the panting bowels,
Of sacrifices, send then to king Caradoc,
Word, saying; So Britons go not from their walls,
To-day, the gods should this blue people save.
Of sacrifices, send then to king Caradoc,
Word, saying; So Britons go not from their walls,
To-day, the gods should this blue people save.
Certain uplandish vaunting warlike warriors,
Demetans, heard not, on Britons' further part,
The druids' ban. Of them, leap down, anon,
The foremost; gainst who, enemies, on left wing,
Ascend, Batavians, from the forded stream;
And thousand, with vast clamour, glittering spears,
Approach! Then Publius, son of duke Ostorius,
(Who emulates, in proud arms, young worthy Titus;
That late repaired, with Aulus, is to Rome,)
Leading four cohorts, strenuous, lo, upmounts;
And, made strong effort, beats back those blue Britons;
Whose trumps, above, sound hoarse and dreadful note!
Demetans, heard not, on Britons' further part,
The druids' ban. Of them, leap down, anon,
The foremost; gainst who, enemies, on left wing,
Ascend, Batavians, from the forded stream;
And thousand, with vast clamour, glittering spears,
Approach! Then Publius, son of duke Ostorius,
(Who emulates, in proud arms, young worthy Titus;
That late repaired, with Aulus, is to Rome,)
Leading four cohorts, strenuous, lo, upmounts;
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Whose trumps, above, sound hoarse and dreadful note!
Defend, within their works, their glast-stained warriors,
The Britons' gods: snatch, (thick as buzzing flies,)
Their divine hands, the Romans' shot, aloft,
And turn aside; or cause fall shortly spent.
But Britons' javelins, cast from higher ground,
As they come on, pierce many harnessed Romans.
The Britons' gods: snatch, (thick as buzzing flies,)
Their divine hands, the Romans' shot, aloft,
And turn aside; or cause fall shortly spent.
But Britons' javelins, cast from higher ground,
As they come on, pierce many harnessed Romans.
Not long then might Cunobelin's glorious son
Contain his glast-stained warriors. Shielded swarms,
Whom those strife-hags incite, leap from all walls.
This seen, proceeds, unto the middest strife,
Britons' strong arm, the sire Caratacus!
Like as, who walks in forest, falcon sees,
And now not sees, which chaceth an hare forth;
(His glimpsing flight is midst thick boughs and oaks!)
So in battle, fares the warsire amongst his,
And Romans. Champions, that tall Cerix leads
On whom his father had imposed, to ward,
With his own life, and lives of his strong warriors,
King Caradoc's life, him fence, with hasty spears.
Contain his glast-stained warriors. Shielded swarms,
Whom those strife-hags incite, leap from all walls.
This seen, proceeds, unto the middest strife,
Britons' strong arm, the sire Caratacus!
Like as, who walks in forest, falcon sees,
And now not sees, which chaceth an hare forth;
(His glimpsing flight is midst thick boughs and oaks!)
So in battle, fares the warsire amongst his,
And Romans. Champions, that tall Cerix leads
On whom his father had imposed, to ward,
With his own life, and lives of his strong warriors,
King Caradoc's life, him fence, with hasty spears.
New vigour then and pulse, in the strong limbs,
Infused their battle-gods, of the blue Britons.
Yet once more, they, in view of both the armies,
Would give war-glory to king Caradoc!
With Serpiol, (Togodumnos' burning glaive,)
He, mongst them running, bloody breaches hews.
The people of Romulus hear, bove battle-noise,
Caradoc's great voice, heartening his woad-stained warriors!
Infused their battle-gods, of the blue Britons.
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Would give war-glory to king Caradoc!
With Serpiol, (Togodumnos' burning glaive,)
He, mongst them running, bloody breaches hews.
The people of Romulus hear, bove battle-noise,
Caradoc's great voice, heartening his woad-stained warriors!
This hour, must forge, of Rome, eternal chains,
He cries; or else them loose, from off our necks.
And bound, with fatal holly-oak leaves, mark
Men, is the warsire's helm, to-day, to death!
War-girt, he rusheth, in strong battle-press.
He cries; or else them loose, from off our necks.
And bound, with fatal holly-oak leaves, mark
Men, is the warsire's helm, to-day, to death!
War-girt, he rusheth, in strong battle-press.
Is fame, erst laid strong hands, Batavian aids;
Calling on Woden god, lord of the slain,
On Britons' bulwark; and gan it disrock:
But bare the immane spears of Briton gods,
Batavians back, with loss of half their men!
Calling on Woden god, lord of the slain,
On Britons' bulwark; and gan it disrock:
But bare the immane spears of Briton gods,
Batavians back, with loss of half their men!
More terrible grows then strife, under the wall.
Issue blue Britons, like to angry swarms
Of stinging flies: an infinite warlike din
Wide sounds, like rattling hail, on a king's hall.
Wade forth, in battle-press, the barbare ensigns.
Fight bands of naked wattle-shielded Britons,
Gainst stedfast bronze-clad ranks of legionaries;
That, having overcome the world before,
Would win even this cold soil of Utmost Britain!
Issue blue Britons, like to angry swarms
Of stinging flies: an infinite warlike din
Wide sounds, like rattling hail, on a king's hall.
Wade forth, in battle-press, the barbare ensigns.
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Gainst stedfast bronze-clad ranks of legionaries;
That, having overcome the world before,
Would win even this cold soil of Utmost Britain!
The seventh year now is running of this war,
Gainst might of Rome; nor Britain yet subdued:
Such virtue found is, in her warlike sons.
Whereas, in Summers few, had Julius' arms
Vanquisht Main Gaul. Stalks, mongst them which contend,
Death, from hell-pit, uprisen, beneath the earth!
In each of his ten-thousand violent hands,
A dart. In skies, his face the mounting Sun,
Shrouds, and above this battle, seems to mourn.
Lie fallen, as wind-cast shocks, in harvest field,
Men's carcases; whose new disbodied spirits
Flit, without memory of their former being;
Seeking, in the wild airs, now starry paths:
And gods all valiant souls receive to rest!
Gainst might of Rome; nor Britain yet subdued:
Such virtue found is, in her warlike sons.
Whereas, in Summers few, had Julius' arms
Vanquisht Main Gaul. Stalks, mongst them which contend,
Death, from hell-pit, uprisen, beneath the earth!
In each of his ten-thousand violent hands,
A dart. In skies, his face the mounting Sun,
Shrouds, and above this battle, seems to mourn.
Lie fallen, as wind-cast shocks, in harvest field,
Men's carcases; whose new disbodied spirits
Flit, without memory of their former being;
Seeking, in the wild airs, now starry paths:
And gods all valiant souls receive to rest!
So long, o'er earth's low field, then as swift chariot
Of Belin, god, on burning axe-tree, mounts;
Their crystal shields protending, cloud-girt gods,
Favour the Britons: but, past his mid-course,
Prevail, at length, the mightier gods of Rome!
Of Belin, god, on burning axe-tree, mounts;
Their crystal shields protending, cloud-girt gods,
Favour the Britons: but, past his mid-course,
Prevail, at length, the mightier gods of Rome!
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Like is long brazen wall, the soldiers' front,
Of dinted shields, and harness purple-dyed:
Like then to climbing wave, that falls in blood;
Upon a bank of bleeding warriors!
Breath of their gods, a little yet upholds
The island powers, but no more shields from wounds.
Of dinted shields, and harness purple-dyed:
Like then to climbing wave, that falls in blood;
Upon a bank of bleeding warriors!
Breath of their gods, a little yet upholds
The island powers, but no more shields from wounds.
Caradoc, warlord, to what part, most, he sees
The battle-travail sore, sends strength of spears;
Or himself running, (since, in this March, were
Not paths for battle-carts,) the loose caterfs
Restores. But gin incline the wounded ranks,
Now, on blue Britons' part, of warriors' breasts.
The battle-travail sore, sends strength of spears;
Or himself running, (since, in this March, were
Not paths for battle-carts,) the loose caterfs
Restores. But gin incline the wounded ranks,
Now, on blue Britons' part, of warriors' breasts.
In that, he turned, recomfort a caterf;
Came hastily humming sling-stone, which strong arm
Hurled, of Iberian, mongst the allies of Rome:
And, on the neck-bone, smote the shining flint,
Twixt hauberk and bright helm, Caratacus;
Where, numbness of man's sense, makes, nigh to death,
The stroke; and so continues a good space.
Came hastily humming sling-stone, which strong arm
Hurled, of Iberian, mongst the allies of Rome:
And, on the neck-bone, smote the shining flint,
Twixt hauberk and bright helm, Caratacus;
Where, numbness of man's sense, makes, nigh to death,
The stroke; and so continues a good space.
As poplar, whose roots freshet hath laid bare,
When seizes tempest on his soaring crest,
Ruins from cliff; amongst his warriors, rushed;
And lay full still, divine Caratacus!
Then those make, shield to shield, the warsire round,
Impenetrable breastwork of their lives.
When seizes tempest on his soaring crest,
Ruins from cliff; amongst his warriors, rushed;
And lay full still, divine Caratacus!
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Impenetrable breastwork of their lives.
Blue Britons, when the warlord's cry no more,
Above the battle-tumult, they might hear,
More feebly fight. A coldness dulls each sense.
Above the battle-tumult, they might hear,
More feebly fight. A coldness dulls each sense.
Doth Gorran off his lord's bright helm, at once,
That might the freshing air, upon him breathe.
Then softly, who noblest, on his flint-hard targe,
(Which dights thick rind of forest bull; whereon,
Shines, thrice enfolded, dragon of his house,
Whose fell head tin, the body is scaly brass,
Of horrible aspect,) lift Caradoc.
And him, to shoulders heaving, they tread back;
And bear the sire, twixt lane of knitted shields;
And save, maugré thick strife, from battle-press,
Of Romans. And, from skies, Rome's hostile gods,
Beholding, did applaud; and Worthy, spake,
Were those, in barbare arms, to have been Romans!
That might the freshing air, upon him breathe.
Then softly, who noblest, on his flint-hard targe,
(Which dights thick rind of forest bull; whereon,
Shines, thrice enfolded, dragon of his house,
Whose fell head tin, the body is scaly brass,
Of horrible aspect,) lift Caradoc.
And him, to shoulders heaving, they tread back;
And bear the sire, twixt lane of knitted shields;
And save, maugré thick strife, from battle-press,
Of Romans. And, from skies, Rome's hostile gods,
Beholding, did applaud; and Worthy, spake,
Were those, in barbare arms, to have been Romans!
Lights Belisama, by strong bloody Camulus;
Where this, with lowering looks, leans on his spear;
Wherewith he wont, in field, to strew whole cohorts;
And thus she him girds; Where wast thou, violent god?
What sun great Trinobantine dune was taken,
Called by thy name? Belike sat'st drunkelew thou,
In mortal's hall, on ale-bench, Camulus?
Where thou the goodman's team, strange guest, hadst eaten,
Three beves; and sith didst drink, as thy wont is,
A tun of mead. Or, with thy wife, hadst thou,
New woe? Smote thy pilled skull the Morrigu?
Or pluckt she; crying, Dotard Camulus!
Thy beard? since lost thy brawns their former force;
Which could not thine own uphanged silver face,
At Glevum, save! but soldiers, from the gate,
It reft. Seest not? or grown too blunt thy sense,
How Caradoc lies, beloved, of mortals, most,
In swoon; and that in danger to be slain?
As valorous wight is murdered in his sleep!
Cunobelin's son; who burned fat thighs, to us,
Of slaughtered beves. But, and thou help, strong god,
The hero save, a guerdon, Camulus;
Such, at mine hands, thy godhead shall receive,
As shalt thou not be able to recuse.
Hearken, will surely I give thee her, tonight;
Whom long-time, as great riches, thou hast sought;
Nelma, the flower of all my maiden-train.
Where this, with lowering looks, leans on his spear;
Wherewith he wont, in field, to strew whole cohorts;
And thus she him girds; Where wast thou, violent god?
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Called by thy name? Belike sat'st drunkelew thou,
In mortal's hall, on ale-bench, Camulus?
Where thou the goodman's team, strange guest, hadst eaten,
Three beves; and sith didst drink, as thy wont is,
A tun of mead. Or, with thy wife, hadst thou,
New woe? Smote thy pilled skull the Morrigu?
Or pluckt she; crying, Dotard Camulus!
Thy beard? since lost thy brawns their former force;
Which could not thine own uphanged silver face,
At Glevum, save! but soldiers, from the gate,
It reft. Seest not? or grown too blunt thy sense,
How Caradoc lies, beloved, of mortals, most,
In swoon; and that in danger to be slain?
As valorous wight is murdered in his sleep!
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Of slaughtered beves. But, and thou help, strong god,
The hero save, a guerdon, Camulus;
Such, at mine hands, thy godhead shall receive,
As shalt thou not be able to recuse.
Hearken, will surely I give thee her, tonight;
Whom long-time, as great riches, thou hast sought;
Nelma, the flower of all my maiden-train.
Nothing; (loud sudden spake the impetuous god;
Whose voice like Winter-waves, on some vast shore!)
There is, on all wide plat of earth; and dost
Thou, fair wise goddess, only promise this;
How great and ne'er so hard, the peril were;
But Camulus will assay it bring to pass.
Whose voice like Winter-waves, on some vast shore!)
There is, on all wide plat of earth; and dost
Thou, fair wise goddess, only promise this;
How great and ne'er so hard, the peril were;
But Camulus will assay it bring to pass.
Swear, Belisama, then, that greatest oath,
Which is, in heavenly seats, amongst high gods;
By these three: Earth, which Ocean-streams enfold,
And Heaven, above; and gulf of Hell beneath.
Then she, her goddess-palms, gainst sun all-seeing,
Uplifting; and, to far-off Ocean, calling;
With her spear's heel, sith, smiting the green sod;
Sware, Gentle maiden Nelma, of the white hand,
Fair-bosomed, should be laid by Camulus;
And he that enterprise achieve, to-night.
Which is, in heavenly seats, amongst high gods;
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And Heaven, above; and gulf of Hell beneath.
Then she, her goddess-palms, gainst sun all-seeing,
Uplifting; and, to far-off Ocean, calling;
With her spear's heel, sith, smiting the green sod;
Sware, Gentle maiden Nelma, of the white hand,
Fair-bosomed, should be laid by Camulus;
And he that enterprise achieve, to-night.
Though strong, quoth Camulus, both, among the gods,
And mortals, am I named; yet wisdom much
The power of strength exceeds. That, thou wise, goddess!
I learned, what time I marched to the world's brinks;
Where poised on pillars are, of heavenly house,
The starry walls, which stoop in compass round;
Or else, immense, should ruin on the world!
And mortals, am I named; yet wisdom much
The power of strength exceeds. That, thou wise, goddess!
I learned, what time I marched to the world's brinks;
Where poised on pillars are, of heavenly house,
The starry walls, which stoop in compass round;
Or else, immense, should ruin on the world!
Being the wide bent of crystal firmament,
(Their proud immortal seats,) to aery spirits,
Assigned for their abode, it mine intent
Was shake; aye, and split that fastness of high gods,
To wreak me; sith my godhead had incensed,
In stranger land, Italiot treacherous god,
One red-eyed Bacchus; that, with wine, betrayed
Me; and that hour slain was Brennus in high Alps!
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Assigned for their abode, it mine intent
Was shake; aye, and split that fastness of high gods,
To wreak me; sith my godhead had incensed,
In stranger land, Italiot treacherous god,
One red-eyed Bacchus; that, with wine, betrayed
Me; and that hour slain was Brennus in high Alps!
But substance entered in me, of the ground,
Blood of the earth, which in that drossy cup;
A mortal swift disease outsent those gods;
Which, like to lean hag, me pursued, in march;
O'ertook, and suddenly, unwares, she wrung my bowels,
With her fell claws; so that, on my bronze targe,
That loud to heavens resounded, I fell down;
And issued from mine hands, these divine arms;
And rang my war-helm, on that utmost coast;
And leapt forth, shining, to vast brimming flood,
Which runs about the world: and hardly it Lîr,
Sending, at mine entreaty, some of his,
(Mine ancient friend,) recured, ere the year's end.
Blood of the earth, which in that drossy cup;
A mortal swift disease outsent those gods;
Which, like to lean hag, me pursued, in march;
O'ertook, and suddenly, unwares, she wrung my bowels,
With her fell claws; so that, on my bronze targe,
That loud to heavens resounded, I fell down;
And issued from mine hands, these divine arms;
And rang my war-helm, on that utmost coast;
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Which runs about the world: and hardly it Lîr,
Sending, at mine entreaty, some of his,
(Mine ancient friend,) recured, ere the year's end.
Three days, then, I consuming smart endured;
And alway in dread, of some strange hostile god,
Be found disarmed. And thence I hardly was
Enlarged; when taken of me dreadful oath,
Had those sky-dwelling powers, that no more pass,
I should o'er the weaved waves, from Island Britain.
And alway in dread, of some strange hostile god,
Be found disarmed. And thence I hardly was
Enlarged; when taken of me dreadful oath,
Had those sky-dwelling powers, that no more pass,
I should o'er the weaved waves, from Island Britain.
Aye and even this day me threatened Roman gods;
Before whom I am still put to the worse;
Were I, in this field, found, me spoil of arms.
One froward as a girl, Bellona hight,
A bold-faced buskin'd goddess; she that wont,
On Roman part, withstand me face to face.
Calling me Furcifer, much as, in our speech,
Daffe, Gallows-bird, upon my baldric seized;
And backling haled the scornful virgin crude!
Mongst mocking Roman gods: me, factious god,
Of barbare isle, she named, before them all!
Aye, and lifting spear, me menaced, truculent,
Send, gelt-god, chained; like Briton hound, to Rome!
Where, shrieked she, should serve my huge godhead's force,
(Yoked, like the drudging mule,) to hurl their millstones!
Whereat, they all laughed loud; and me derided!
Thou, prithee, Belisama, rent her locks!
Before whom I am still put to the worse;
Were I, in this field, found, me spoil of arms.
One froward as a girl, Bellona hight,
A bold-faced buskin'd goddess; she that wont,
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Calling me Furcifer, much as, in our speech,
Daffe, Gallows-bird, upon my baldric seized;
And backling haled the scornful virgin crude!
Mongst mocking Roman gods: me, factious god,
Of barbare isle, she named, before them all!
Aye, and lifting spear, me menaced, truculent,
Send, gelt-god, chained; like Briton hound, to Rome!
Where, shrieked she, should serve my huge godhead's force,
(Yoked, like the drudging mule,) to hurl their millstones!
Whereat, they all laughed loud; and me derided!
Thou, prithee, Belisama, rent her locks!
Day cometh, quoth she, when we shall vengeance take,
For their light parts. Thou Camulus, raise loud shout;
Shall turn away, of those strange gods, the looks;
Whiles I so shape the substance of a cloud;
That it some divine messenger seem from Rome,
Powdered, with hoary mist, in aery paths.
In that they stand then gazing, towards vast Alps,
We twain descend to field: cast thou back Romans,
Whilst I shall shield and save Caratacus.
For their light parts. Thou Camulus, raise loud shout;
Shall turn away, of those strange gods, the looks;
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That it some divine messenger seem from Rome,
Powdered, with hoary mist, in aery paths.
In that they stand then gazing, towards vast Alps,
We twain descend to field: cast thou back Romans,
Whilst I shall shield and save Caratacus.
Nodded, in sign he did assent, the god.
Two steps he made; a pine tree seemed the plume
Of Camulus' helm! lights, from the reeling skies,
Like as leaps charioteer, from cart, to ground,
The battle-god, midst dust and strife of arms!
And horribly Camulus brayed; that seemed the voice
Of new host of blue Britons, which arrive.
At that strange portent, failed the Romans' breath.
His spear bare back a legion, a good space!
Two steps he made; a pine tree seemed the plume
Of Camulus' helm! lights, from the reeling skies,
Like as leaps charioteer, from cart, to ground,
The battle-god, midst dust and strife of arms!
And horribly Camulus brayed; that seemed the voice
Of new host of blue Britons, which arrive.
At that strange portent, failed the Romans' breath.
His spear bare back a legion, a good space!
Like swallow swift, to field, the goddess stooped;
And closed, with misty cloud congealed, a plot,
Round the hurt king; wherein she forms, as rocks,
And oaks; and semblant shaped of a green mount.
There, goddess bright, she hid Caratacus,
Beloved of men and gods, even hostile gods:
And like as mother, o'er her babe; whom bee
Did sting, is she his ward, till fall of night!
And closed, with misty cloud congealed, a plot,
Round the hurt king; wherein she forms, as rocks,
And oaks; and semblant shaped of a green mount.
There, goddess bright, she hid Caratacus,
Beloved of men and gods, even hostile gods:
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Did sting, is she his ward, till fall of night!
He, who bare eagle of the fourteenth legion,
(Which Conqueress, Claudius named, of Island Britain,)
Seeing victory tarry, though inclined the fight,
Launcht, from his hand, his ensign, with great force;
And it o'erflew last bulwark of blue Britons!
Then flocking soldiers, lest an infamy have,
Their eagle lost, the legion; with main shout,
Rush under shields. And, erst, foot of stout Publius,
Mongst those assailing, stood on Britons' rock!
(Which Conqueress, Claudius named, of Island Britain,)
Seeing victory tarry, though inclined the fight,
Launcht, from his hand, his ensign, with great force;
And it o'erflew last bulwark of blue Britons!
Then flocking soldiers, lest an infamy have,
Their eagle lost, the legion; with main shout,
Rush under shields. And, erst, foot of stout Publius,
Mongst those assailing, stood on Britons' rock!
Full eftsoon is, of slaughter, that hill-strength;
Wherein, alone, rests Ergund, to defence,
Of wives and altars, with his Mona warriors.
(He obedient, to that oracle of pale druids,
Went not forth from walled hold, in field, to fight.)
Three troops are his; which running now, gainst Romans;
Hew with huge strokes, and deeds of hardihood,
Them bloody path. Till last, midst mortal strife,
And burst his lance; was Ergund's immense force,
O'erborne, in enemies' great in-thronging press!
Wherein, alone, rests Ergund, to defence,
Of wives and altars, with his Mona warriors.
(He obedient, to that oracle of pale druids,
Went not forth from walled hold, in field, to fight.)
Three troops are his; which running now, gainst Romans;
Hew with huge strokes, and deeds of hardihood,
Them bloody path. Till last, midst mortal strife,
And burst his lance; was Ergund's immense force,
O'erborne, in enemies' great in-thronging press!
Fell Mona's valiant champions, round their prince.
But he, spear-smitten in the mouth; sore hurt
Being his shield-arm, of stout centurion's glaive:
Through-shot his other shoulder, of sharp dart;
His thigh then, of a javelin, gored; and pierced,
Under the left pap, of a Gaulish shaft,
Fell dying, flat-long, forth on his helmed face,
Amidst the battle-slain, in bloody dust!
And issued, from his lips, the mighty ghost.
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Being his shield-arm, of stout centurion's glaive:
Through-shot his other shoulder, of sharp dart;
His thigh then, of a javelin, gored; and pierced,
Under the left pap, of a Gaulish shaft,
Fell dying, flat-long, forth on his helmed face,
Amidst the battle-slain, in bloody dust!
And issued, from his lips, the mighty ghost.
Lodged on two-headed hill were Caradoc's camps;
And parted them, in twain, a thick pale-work:
But now that rather turned to Britons' scathe;
Whereas they running, and pent, like frayed beasts,
Are slain in heaps. Henceforth, resistance weak,
Find soldiers: Romans presently arrive,
To turven altars, where, to-day, is cried,
Were offered Romans! Whence, in vain, stretch druids
And unarmed forth, and wives, which refuge sought,
Thereat, their suppliant hands, to men and gods.
In their first fury, all slay crude Roman soldiers!
And parted them, in twain, a thick pale-work:
But now that rather turned to Britons' scathe;
Whereas they running, and pent, like frayed beasts,
Are slain in heaps. Henceforth, resistance weak,
Find soldiers: Romans presently arrive,
To turven altars, where, to-day, is cried,
Were offered Romans! Whence, in vain, stretch druids
And unarmed forth, and wives, which refuge sought,
Thereat, their suppliant hands, to men and gods.
In their first fury, all slay crude Roman soldiers!
Now enters Britons' bulwark, duke Ostorius,
On his white horse. He, lo, upholdeth glaive!
His clarions sound, then, Cease from fight! The legate
Commands, to spare the vanquished; all which cast
Their shields and arms, of the cerulean Britons.
Thus were, in field and camp, twelve thousand saved;
Field, full of fugitive routs now of blue Britons.
On his white horse. He, lo, upholdeth glaive!
His clarions sound, then, Cease from fight! The legate
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Their shields and arms, of the cerulean Britons.
Thus were, in field and camp, twelve thousand saved;
Field, full of fugitive routs now of blue Britons.
This hapless battle-sun, at length, is ended;
Leaving Isle Britain thrall and prey, to Rome!
Whose funeral shroud wide skies seem, dipped in blood.
Fly, to much slaughter, ravens from hill-woods;
And groaned, in their high rests, the foster-gods;
That haste fling night down, from the heavenly towers.
Leaving Isle Britain thrall and prey, to Rome!
Whose funeral shroud wide skies seem, dipped in blood.
Fly, to much slaughter, ravens from hill-woods;
And groaned, in their high rests, the foster-gods;
That haste fling night down, from the heavenly towers.
Falls night's wide mourning raiment, on the ground;
Nor any went to Camulus' bride-feast.
Or was, the god his arms, from battle-blood,
Washed; or that field glassed crystal firmament;
Or Britain's bloody Dawn, would show the gods!
All night, the heavens, waxed red, did seem to burn;
Which seen of peoples, even to furthest Britain!
And sending gods, o'er-all, derne wailful sound,
Beneath the cresset-moon, like lamping brass,
Was eachwhere, nightlong, fear of impious death;
Falls new strange dread, on drowsy watching hearts!
Nor any went to Camulus' bride-feast.
Or was, the god his arms, from battle-blood,
Washed; or that field glassed crystal firmament;
Or Britain's bloody Dawn, would show the gods!
All night, the heavens, waxed red, did seem to burn;
Which seen of peoples, even to furthest Britain!
And sending gods, o'er-all, derne wailful sound,
Beneath the cresset-moon, like lamping brass,
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Falls new strange dread, on drowsy watching hearts!
What clods, beside Tifidiog's stream, be these,
Cold as the dew, which seems dank stars to weep;
Lie wallowed in their blood? When this day rose,
In mist, were beautiful young valiant warriors,
Britons, whose bed of death this trampled grass.
And who lie, full of wounds, in field, alive;
Have none to succour them; less happy, alas,
Than who already have breathed forth their spirits.
Cold as the dew, which seems dank stars to weep;
Lie wallowed in their blood? When this day rose,
In mist, were beautiful young valiant warriors,
Britons, whose bed of death this trampled grass.
And who lie, full of wounds, in field, alive;
Have none to succour them; less happy, alas,
Than who already have breathed forth their spirits.
Yet in that night, was saved, Caratacus,
So loved him gods; which, yester, took all seeing,
And sense, from him, of Britons' extreme loss.
So loved him gods; which, yester, took all seeing,
And sense, from him, of Britons' extreme loss.
Their hearts are troubled that in this, new host,
To the warlord, ascend, from Deheubarth;
Whose dukes great Hammeraxe and noble Maglos,
Kowain and Hælion. Weary those, at eve,
Now sit, about their watchfires, in a wood;
Whose flickering leaves seem infinite tongues of dread,
That whisper round: these night-skies seem run blood!
To the warlord, ascend, from Deheubarth;
Whose dukes great Hammeraxe and noble Maglos,
Kowain and Hælion. Weary those, at eve,
Now sit, about their watchfires, in a wood;
Whose flickering leaves seem infinite tongues of dread,
That whisper round: these night-skies seem run blood!
They marched, at day; make forth all that long sun.
Men mark, then baleful ravens flee on-loft;
Sith filthy flies them meet: token, ah, this,
Of bloody battle-mould, lies not far off!
Levied, at morrow, his castra had duke Ostorius;
And pitched again, from that place, a large league.
But, whilst he supped, with tribunes of his legions,
There fell a new thought, in his martial breast,
That second Britons' army; of whose approach,
He hears, by spies, amidst their march, oppress.
He sallied then, next eve, with expedite cohorts.
Men mark, then baleful ravens flee on-loft;
Sith filthy flies them meet: token, ah, this,
Of bloody battle-mould, lies not far off!
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And pitched again, from that place, a large league.
But, whilst he supped, with tribunes of his legions,
There fell a new thought, in his martial breast,
That second Britons' army; of whose approach,
He hears, by spies, amidst their march, oppress.
He sallied then, next eve, with expedite cohorts.
The Britons' host are marching yet this night,
Heavy their limbs, to come to Caradoc.
They pass, as in a dream, by moonlight cliffs,
On either hand. So make they weary speed,
Till morning star; when word is cried, to halt.
Men stay them, on stiff spears: lean weary warriors,
Whiles dukes consult, to trees, lo, and sharp rocks!
Heavy their limbs, to come to Caradoc.
They pass, as in a dream, by moonlight cliffs,
On either hand. So make they weary speed,
Till morning star; when word is cried, to halt.
Men stay them, on stiff spears: lean weary warriors,
Whiles dukes consult, to trees, lo, and sharp rocks!
From mouth to mouth, then tiding, mongst them ran;
Even now, the va'ward met, with fugitives,
From Caradoc's host; which tell of battle lost!
Deems Maglos, those were fled, for craven hearts,
At the first brunt; and more than sooth report:
Yet reads, till might the truth be known of this;
And they should learn, where now Caratacus is;
They, to some covert, draw them, of hill-woods:
Whereto accorded those four lords, they march;
Yet hardly, in this new journey, drawing breath;
So troubled be their hearts. Then suddenly, ah, bray
Out, fearful! in cold gleaming of first dawn,
Above, behind, beyond them, Roman clarions!
Fall on them Rome's victorious harnessed soldiers.
Even now, the va'ward met, with fugitives,
From Caradoc's host; which tell of battle lost!
Deems Maglos, those were fled, for craven hearts,
At the first brunt; and more than sooth report:
Yet reads, till might the truth be known of this;
And they should learn, where now Caratacus is;
They, to some covert, draw them, of hill-woods:
Whereto accorded those four lords, they march;
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So troubled be their hearts. Then suddenly, ah, bray
Out, fearful! in cold gleaming of first dawn,
Above, behind, beyond them, Roman clarions!
Fall on them Rome's victorious harnessed soldiers.
Swift-foot, like war-hound, through the host, runs Maglos:
Runs Kowain, who, oft-times had, on waves' face,
O'ercame proud Romans. Shouts great Hammeraxe,
Calling, like iron trump, on who most strenuous,
By name and lignage, Stand fast round their ensigns!
Stout Hælion sternly arrays his weary warriors.
Runs Kowain, who, oft-times had, on waves' face,
O'ercame proud Romans. Shouts great Hammeraxe,
Calling, like iron trump, on who most strenuous,
By name and lignage, Stand fast round their ensigns!
Stout Hælion sternly arrays his weary warriors.
Did, heartless quite, cry out those fugitives;
Whom a new death, by Roman glaives, o'ertakes.
Time fails then Britons' captains, take on harness:
But they on foot fall out, each with his champions;
To hew, with iron, their way, through hemming Romans.
Whom a new death, by Roman glaives, o'ertakes.
Time fails then Britons' captains, take on harness:
But they on foot fall out, each with his champions;
To hew, with iron, their way, through hemming Romans.
Magnanimous, ah, but too unequal dures,
Not long, that strife of naked way-worn Britons;
Gainst heavy-armed and bronze-clad legionaries.
Not long, that strife of naked way-worn Britons;
Gainst heavy-armed and bronze-clad legionaries.
Erst generous Kowain leapt, mongst press of soldiers;
And seemed his glaive, a flail, which thresheth Romans.
But soldiers hurling, from an higher ground;
Their sharp darts, wound his men. Hand then was seen,
Of hostile god; which the unfenced body pierced,
Of Kowain, from the backward, with sharp lance.
And seemed his glaive, a flail, which thresheth Romans.
But soldiers hurling, from an higher ground;
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Of hostile god; which the unfenced body pierced,
Of Kowain, from the backward, with sharp lance.
Thrust through the lungs, the valiant Iscan prince,
Fell on his shield, and on his comely face.
He vomits gore, whilst the fast-gurgling blood
Wells, from the broken conduit of his life.
Yet, on his chin, upstayed his noble face,
His dying looks affray his enemies!
In the dim vision of his fainting thought;
He Amathon, the old, sees, sees his widowed spouse,
And their sweet babe! and them commends his heart,
To that high wonder-working Joseph's God!
And, anon, ruins, on his reeling sense,
Dark purple iron shadow of endless night!
Fell on his shield, and on his comely face.
He vomits gore, whilst the fast-gurgling blood
Wells, from the broken conduit of his life.
Yet, on his chin, upstayed his noble face,
His dying looks affray his enemies!
In the dim vision of his fainting thought;
He Amathon, the old, sees, sees his widowed spouse,
And their sweet babe! and them commends his heart,
To that high wonder-working Joseph's God!
And, anon, ruins, on his reeling sense,
Dark purple iron shadow of endless night!
Slew Hælion battle-path forth, mongst strange soldiers,
Which stand before him; wreaking his own death,
Venging his nation. But when Kowain slain,
He understood; calling on dreadful gods,
Of the dead world, neath living mould, receive
His ghost; he leapt, with shout! mongst thicket press,
Of Roman spears: and, without fence of harness,
Was the hero slain, of many glaives, uneath.
Which stand before him; wreaking his own death,
Venging his nation. But when Kowain slain,
He understood; calling on dreadful gods,
Of the dead world, neath living mould, receive
His ghost; he leapt, with shout! mongst thicket press,
Of Roman spears: and, without fence of harness,
Was the hero slain, of many glaives, uneath.
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Nor fighting Maglos, on that further part,
Yet heard, fell the two dukes. He, where he sees,
Some Roman captain, ride on a white horse;
First made his vows, to Mars Cocidius;
If he him grant that victory, which he asks;
He, to his godhead, would burn hundred rams;
He on him runs, and hurls, with so great force,
His shivering lance; that passed the flying ash
Ostorius' targe, and bit beneath his harness!
That seeing, rushed forth the son of Moelmabon,
To slay him; and recoil, like sheepy flock,
Before the herdsman's hound, gan Roman soldiers;
From godlike Maglos' glittering homicide glaive;
So amazed they were! Hurls, with him, a small power.
Yet heard, fell the two dukes. He, where he sees,
Some Roman captain, ride on a white horse;
First made his vows, to Mars Cocidius;
If he him grant that victory, which he asks;
He, to his godhead, would burn hundred rams;
He on him runs, and hurls, with so great force,
His shivering lance; that passed the flying ash
Ostorius' targe, and bit beneath his harness!
That seeing, rushed forth the son of Moelmabon,
To slay him; and recoil, like sheepy flock,
Before the herdsman's hound, gan Roman soldiers;
From godlike Maglos' glittering homicide glaive;
So amazed they were! Hurls, with him, a small power.
But might Cocidius, come his fatal hour,
Not Maglos save. The hero, o'er a slain soldier,
Fell, stumbling on his targe, mongst dying Romans:
Returned then, soldiers pierce him in the chine.
Which seen, his young men cast away their lives.
They fall, as Autumn leaves, on Roman spears!
Not Maglos save. The hero, o'er a slain soldier,
Fell, stumbling on his targe, mongst dying Romans:
Returned then, soldiers pierce him in the chine.
Which seen, his young men cast away their lives.
They fall, as Autumn leaves, on Roman spears!
King Kynan, early, (who, with new caterfs,
In Britons' rearward marched,) was, in this strife,
Severed, by thronging foes, from the blue host.
He climbed then, in that valley's steepy sides;
Meaning fall forth, from sideward, on the Romans;
Where namely he hears an abhorred Belges' voice;
Which seemed-him mouth of felon Cogidubnos!
But come up to sharp craigs; so, on them, drives
Thick mist; that, eftsoon, their own feet they see not.
In Britons' rearward marched,) was, in this strife,
Severed, by thronging foes, from the blue host.
He climbed then, in that valley's steepy sides;
Meaning fall forth, from sideward, on the Romans;
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Which seemed-him mouth of felon Cogidubnos!
But come up to sharp craigs; so, on them, drives
Thick mist; that, eftsoon, their own feet they see not.
Hanging, with hearts aflame, on the cliffs' brinks,
As birds; those hear the battle-rage, beneath.
Groping, fell Kynan forth; whose furious hands
Impatient are to fight, from an high-place.
He astonished lies, where craig-stone caught his fall!
As birds; those hear the battle-rage, beneath.
Groping, fell Kynan forth; whose furious hands
Impatient are to fight, from an high-place.
He astonished lies, where craig-stone caught his fall!
The gods' will was, that were not Britons' dukes
Together slain all, in one sun; that not
Them violate should ravening beasts; nor fret
Them beaks of filthy fowl, they ordained thus:
But that the kindly mould, which brought them forth,
Again, should, in her sacred womb, receive,
At Kynan's hand; and to late age, his praise
Be sung, that made them pious funerals.
Together slain all, in one sun; that not
Them violate should ravening beasts; nor fret
Them beaks of filthy fowl, they ordained thus:
But that the kindly mould, which brought them forth,
Again, should, in her sacred womb, receive,
At Kynan's hand; and to late age, his praise
Be sung, that made them pious funerals.
Ceased was, when lifted, from their eyes, that mist,
All battle-tumult: Romans have passed forth.
Britons, not slain or captive, left alive,
Be fled. Strewn, with blue corses, silent, lies,
And void, the slaughter-place: nor Hammeraxe
Tarries, as now, mongst Britons' battle-dead,
To read who fallen; but hastes, with headlong heat.
All battle-tumult: Romans have passed forth.
Britons, not slain or captive, left alive,
Be fled. Strewn, with blue corses, silent, lies,
And void, the slaughter-place: nor Hammeraxe
Tarries, as now, mongst Britons' battle-dead,
To read who fallen; but hastes, with headlong heat.
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Like guileful serpent, full of rancorous hate,
With quivering deadly tongue, and swelling throat;
In shining mails, hies Kynan, by wild paths,
With weary champions: and from craig to cliff,
That king, like hunter, creeps; might he cut-off
Fell Cogidubnos, or abhorred Vigantios!
With quivering deadly tongue, and swelling throat;
In shining mails, hies Kynan, by wild paths,
With weary champions: and from craig to cliff,
That king, like hunter, creeps; might he cut-off
Fell Cogidubnos, or abhorred Vigantios!
Great Hammeraxe went on his enemy's trace,
Till Westing sun; when gazing from hill-steep;
His angry eyes none enemy, even yet, far-off,
Descries. Then Kynan, with grieved empty heart,
Returns and sapless knees, from vain pursuit.
Till Westing sun; when gazing from hill-steep;
His angry eyes none enemy, even yet, far-off,
Descries. Then Kynan, with grieved empty heart,
Returns and sapless knees, from vain pursuit.
Come lateward, to that corse-strewn battle-ground;
His Ordovices somewhile rest, and eat.
All then the moon await: that forest-trees
And cliffs, soars now above, with silver crest.
His Ordovices somewhile rest, and eat.
All then the moon await: that forest-trees
And cliffs, soars now above, with silver crest.
They seek then forth, ah, midst the slain caterfs;
And find, woeworth, that do, in comely feature,
(And though already were their corses spoiled,)
And godlike stature, even in sleep of death,
Exceed, the Briton kings, all their slain warriors!
Kynan them and his lords, with desolate hearts,
Take up; and bear forth, on long wicker shields.
And find, woeworth, that do, in comely feature,
(And though already were their corses spoiled,)
And godlike stature, even in sleep of death,
Exceed, the Briton kings, all their slain warriors!
Kynan them and his lords, with desolate hearts,
Take up; and bear forth, on long wicker shields.
Totter their steps, afflicted of the gods;
For wot their weary souls, is, of her dukes
The Land bereaved; and must, a prey, to Romans,
Fall shortly! They to place, neath lofty ash,
Bear. There, delve their bright glaives the mossy sod,
And those together open one wide grave;
Wherein they Maglos, Hælion, Kowain laid.
For wot their weary souls, is, of her dukes
The Land bereaved; and must, a prey, to Romans,
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Bear. There, delve their bright glaives the mossy sod,
And those together open one wide grave;
Wherein they Maglos, Hælion, Kowain laid.
Sith, drawn, of pious Ordovican Britons,
In the moon's shadows, are all dead blue warriors;
And laid, in fear and haste, on funeral rows:
And boughs, of swart-green pine, on them men strewed.
Whereafter Hammeraxe deems burn this grove,
Over the bodies; for, mongst ling and trees,
They lie; where deep mould, of fir-needles, is.
In the moon's shadows, are all dead blue warriors;
And laid, in fear and haste, on funeral rows:
And boughs, of swart-green pine, on them men strewed.
Whereafter Hammeraxe deems burn this grove,
Over the bodies; for, mongst ling and trees,
They lie; where deep mould, of fir-needles, is.
Kynan smote spark, of flint, and kindles flame:
Then sends anon, with brands, an hundred men,
To fire the thickets round: wherein, wind-god,
(Who Vintios named, to whom men offer birds,)
Doth breathe. Vast bale-fire rose, devouring roars;
Which seems incense the heavens, and scorch the stars:
And all consumes, to stones of the wild sod.
That burning quenched, at day, sith falling showers;
Shall bring up herb, on those untimely bones!
Then sends anon, with brands, an hundred men,
To fire the thickets round: wherein, wind-god,
(Who Vintios named, to whom men offer birds,)
Doth breathe. Vast bale-fire rose, devouring roars;
Which seems incense the heavens, and scorch the stars:
And all consumes, to stones of the wild sod.
That burning quenched, at day, sith falling showers;
Shall bring up herb, on those untimely bones!
But thence king Kynan led his Ordovices,
(With whom few hurt; which found they yet alive,
Fallen in nigh woods, and hidden fugitives,)
To forest; where, three days, his glast-stained warriors
Did rest, him mourning, round: thence they turn home.
(With whom few hurt; which found they yet alive,
Fallen in nigh woods, and hidden fugitives,)
To forest; where, three days, his glast-stained warriors
Did rest, him mourning, round: thence they turn home.
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But is not dead, in Colonnwy's field,
Loved of the gods, warsire Caratacus.
Come night, his mighty men, whom shields the goddess,
Stole him away, from danger of the Romans.
Him bear, by turns, six warriors forth, on targe;
Through hills, through wood. Now was, of second morrow,
Springing the sacred dawn; when, shielding Camulus,
And guiding Belisama, in pathless brakes,
They raught some cragged coast; and there find cave,
In cliff; whereas wont harbour salvage beasts.
Therein the warlord, come now to himself,
His Catuvelaunian champions do depose!
Loved of the gods, warsire Caratacus.
Come night, his mighty men, whom shields the goddess,
Stole him away, from danger of the Romans.
Him bear, by turns, six warriors forth, on targe;
Through hills, through wood. Now was, of second morrow,
Springing the sacred dawn; when, shielding Camulus,
And guiding Belisama, in pathless brakes,
They raught some cragged coast; and there find cave,
In cliff; whereas wont harbour salvage beasts.
Therein the warlord, come now to himself,
His Catuvelaunian champions do depose!
Thence Hiradoc, duke, who, with the sire, scaped forth;
Sends a strong runner, to the lord Venutios,
Far in the North! requiring hasty aid.
In evil hour! for met now, midst his path,
That messenger with queen Cartismandua's horse!
Sends a strong runner, to the lord Venutios,
Far in the North! requiring hasty aid.
In evil hour! for met now, midst his path,
That messenger with queen Cartismandua's horse!
The royal witch, consulting magic arts,
Had Calduc sent, light steward of her court,
(Who carnal knowledge, of her, from his youth
Up, hath.) With him ride three-score young men, champions,
Of the queen's guard; unto whom, she gave, in charge,
Venutios' kindred seize, for hostages;
Gainst time, when Caradoc should be taken alive!
But he, whom Hiradoc sent, suspecting naught,
Nor Calduc's falsehead; heard his guileful tale,
(How were they come, forerunners, from Venutios;)
Returns, their guide, to king Caratacus!
Had Calduc sent, light steward of her court,
(Who carnal knowledge, of her, from his youth
Up, hath.) With him ride three-score young men, champions,
Of the queen's guard; unto whom, she gave, in charge,
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Gainst time, when Caradoc should be taken alive!
But he, whom Hiradoc sent, suspecting naught,
Nor Calduc's falsehead; heard his guileful tale,
(How were they come, forerunners, from Venutios;)
Returns, their guide, to king Caratacus!
They then, that put on, day and night; arrive,
Soon, to those cliffs. Sharp stony coast it is,
Whereon the stormy eagles wont to tower:
Under whose eaves, dim sullen hold, lo, cave,
Whereo'er his thorny arms weaves the wild brier;
And garlands ivy-twine, and goat's-beard, hoary.
Therein, (for it is night,) none keeping watch,
So far from human foot, king Caradoc sleeps.
Soon, to those cliffs. Sharp stony coast it is,
Whereon the stormy eagles wont to tower:
Under whose eaves, dim sullen hold, lo, cave,
Whereo'er his thorny arms weaves the wild brier;
And garlands ivy-twine, and goat's-beard, hoary.
Therein, (for it is night,) none keeping watch,
So far from human foot, king Caradoc sleeps.
Lo, Calduc's men, thereto, with stealing foot,
Approach. These gazing-in, that hollow place,
(Whereas none lamp,) see full of shimmering light!
It Belisama caused cast the king's harness.
Approach. These gazing-in, that hollow place,
(Whereas none lamp,) see full of shimmering light!
It Belisama caused cast the king's harness.
Come dawn, they them, before the wakening king,
Present, as horse-folk ridden from lord Venutios.
Misdeems naught Caradoc, who none conscience hath
Of ill desert. He Gorran bade such messes
Set forth, as might afford that desert place;
Singed corn, wild honey, and trouts of the clear brook;
Bake venison, which ran yester in green forest;
(Where Idhig's battle-lance it pierced;) that might,
Venutios' tired march-riders break their fasts.
Present, as horse-folk ridden from lord Venutios.
Misdeems naught Caradoc, who none conscience hath
Of ill desert. He Gorran bade such messes
Set forth, as might afford that desert place;
Singed corn, wild honey, and trouts of the clear brook;
Bake venison, which ran yester in green forest;
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Venutios' tired march-riders break their fasts.
Now, by her aery intelligences, knows,
Fell Cartismandua all her steward's hap;
And Caradoc sees she, in a bowl of water;
Moreo'er sees journey, in far West March, queen Embla,
Folding her gentle hands, to saviour gods;
And turning aye, to heaven, her tearworn face.
Fell Cartismandua all her steward's hap;
And Caradoc sees she, in a bowl of water;
Moreo'er sees journey, in far West March, queen Embla,
Folding her gentle hands, to saviour gods;
And turning aye, to heaven, her tearworn face.
What heart but hers, had, on the queen's pale looks,
Not rued. But rues, nor pities, more than Death
The corse; or wolf the fold, that Northern queen.
Envying chaste life of bounteous womanhead,
She Embla's eyes joys bitter tears have wasted;
Which, like cold stars, for cause of Vellocatus,
Had looked, on her, reproach at Camulodunum;
(Of Vellocatus, whom, with wicked spells,
She sought subdue, to her unstayed desires.)
Not rued. But rues, nor pities, more than Death
The corse; or wolf the fold, that Northern queen.
Envying chaste life of bounteous womanhead,
She Embla's eyes joys bitter tears have wasted;
Which, like cold stars, for cause of Vellocatus,
Had looked, on her, reproach at Camulodunum;
(Of Vellocatus, whom, with wicked spells,
She sought subdue, to her unstayed desires.)
Had Embla journeyed, from Caerwent, with wains;
Bearing, when Caradoc marched, forth, corn and stuff:
And way, among the wilds, now weary, holds,
Of Ordovican nation, in rough paths.
Another band Isurium's queen outsends,
With forged words, Embla's heavy heart to tempt.
Feigning the warlord, ('scaped by flight from death;)
Raught to Isurium, to her royal court.
Bearing, when Caradoc marched, forth, corn and stuff:
And way, among the wilds, now weary, holds,
Of Ordovican nation, in rough paths.
Another band Isurium's queen outsends,
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Feigning the warlord, ('scaped by flight from death;)
Raught to Isurium, to her royal court.
With Calduc, Caradoc sire, ere midday, parts;
Riding the king and his, on the queen's steeds:
(They unwitting; which suppose, to lord Venutios,
They went!) Are Hiradoc, Idhig and Volisios,
And Cathigern, with the king; and certain warriors.
Riding the king and his, on the queen's steeds:
(They unwitting; which suppose, to lord Venutios,
They went!) Are Hiradoc, Idhig and Volisios,
And Cathigern, with the king; and certain warriors.
By uplands, Calduc leads them, moors and woods.
But where they come first to Brigantine fords;
Now, after supper, when, as amongst friends,
The hero sleeps, (and most of his have wounds,)
To them, misdeeming no such thing, creeps Calduc,
And his fell crew. On every sleeper, then,
Of the king's peers and valorous warriors,
Four champions suddenly seize! Even thus, uneath,
They take the least. And though surprised, in trance;
With shout! appalling all their craven hearts;
Like to ureox, upleapt the warsire Caradoc:
And, with a stool, the hero had slain them all;
Were not a wrestler stolen behind his back;
Who, with a sudden cast of his vile foot,
Under knee-bow, where is the strongest weak,
O'erthrew Caratacus, Strong-arm of Britain;
And flung a noose the felon, on his neck!
But where they come first to Brigantine fords;
Now, after supper, when, as amongst friends,
The hero sleeps, (and most of his have wounds,)
To them, misdeeming no such thing, creeps Calduc,
And his fell crew. On every sleeper, then,
Of the king's peers and valorous warriors,
Four champions suddenly seize! Even thus, uneath,
They take the least. And though surprised, in trance;
With shout! appalling all their craven hearts;
Like to ureox, upleapt the warsire Caradoc:
And, with a stool, the hero had slain them all;
Were not a wrestler stolen behind his back;
Who, with a sudden cast of his vile foot,
Under knee-bow, where is the strongest weak,
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And flung a noose the felon, on his neck!
All, knit together their ignoble force,
Him bind then on the ground. Yet hardly gyved,
With bronze, to this, prepared, they his dread hands;
Who bellows, as an heifer, in his bonds!
Then they, that now his peers and mighty ones,
Have bound, do fetters on his royal feet.
Him bind then on the ground. Yet hardly gyved,
With bronze, to this, prepared, they his dread hands;
Who bellows, as an heifer, in his bonds!
Then they, that now his peers and mighty ones,
Have bound, do fetters on his royal feet.
Those thrust them, mocking, sith, in covered carts,
And convoy closely forth, through much murk forest;
That might none hear, that main voice, of king Caradoc.
And convoy closely forth, through much murk forest;
That might none hear, that main voice, of king Caradoc.
Another day, come down to Abus
strand,
In moorish dale, twixt holts, swart streaming wide,
Rolling dark treasons, Calduc's impious breast;
He weighs, (which all occasions should cut-off,)
Whether not Caradoc drench, and all his peers,
As misadventure were, midst the dark flood,
In that they pass; yet dreads that river's god.
In moorish dale, twixt holts, swart streaming wide,
Rolling dark treasons, Calduc's impious breast;
He weighs, (which all occasions should cut-off,)
Whether not Caradoc drench, and all his peers,
As misadventure were, midst the dark flood,
In that they pass; yet dreads that river's god.
Whilst thus he reasons, came, from the witch queen,
A raven, which she feeds with quicken berries;
(And, fame is, flesh of men!) That war-fowl knows
Calduc; when crakes the slaughter-bird to him,
See, and thou bríng king Caradoc safely on;
To enter, such an eve, in Caer Isurium,
When high feast is of great Brigantios, god.
It shall be light, persuade men full of mead,
He is run mad; wherefore ye brought him bound!
A raven, which she feeds with quicken berries;
(And, fame is, flesh of men!) That war-fowl knows
Calduc; when crakes the slaughter-bird to him,
See, and thou bríng king Caradoc safely on;
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When high feast is of great Brigantios, god.
It shall be light, persuade men full of mead,
He is run mad; wherefore ye brought him bound!
Sets the sixth sun; when they walled dune Isurium,
Approach; whence blown, is to their listful ears,
As confuse noise of revelry and loud voice;
Praising the god, a thousand drunken throats:
Where come; the dune, lo, full of reeling wights;
With whom, is the queen's guard, dancing in harness.
Approach; whence blown, is to their listful ears,
As confuse noise of revelry and loud voice;
Praising the god, a thousand drunken throats:
Where come; the dune, lo, full of reeling wights;
With whom, is the queen's guard, dancing in harness.
But when men Calduc saw, within their gates,
Went up a cry, none wist from whence, To arms!
Then ran together, presently, a great press;
But Calduc, with his spear, the people smote.
Likewise do those with him, that cry, Give place;
For urgent is this business of the queen!
Went up a cry, none wist from whence, To arms!
Then ran together, presently, a great press;
But Calduc, with his spear, the people smote.
Likewise do those with him, that cry, Give place;
For urgent is this business of the queen!
Way entering in, to the dune's royal court,
Twixt two paled banks, winds. Cunobal it devised,
Is fame, for his more safety, in his days.
This privily hath now beset false Vellocatus.
Yet when main voice was of Caratacus,
Yelling he is betrayed! heard in the street;
And, in those covered wains, voice of his warriors;
Men, whose hearts hate the tyranny of the fell queen,
Have, running to their wicker bowers, caught arms.
Twixt two paled banks, winds. Cunobal it devised,
Is fame, for his more safety, in his days.
This privily hath now beset false Vellocatus.
Yet when main voice was of Caratacus,
Yelling he is betrayed! heard in the street;
And, in those covered wains, voice of his warriors;
225
Have, running to their wicker bowers, caught arms.
Assemble, in the street, then, shielded band;
Which presently entered, following with the wains;
Shut-to the gates, behind them, Vellocatus!
Which presently entered, following with the wains;
Shut-to the gates, behind them, Vellocatus!
From the two banks, then fly his treacherous shafts!
On Cunobal's pent armed warriors; which fall pierced.
Bellows, within the cart, king Caradoc!
Who reads now all the falsehead of this queen.
The wains are halted, at the mead-hall porch!
On Cunobal's pent armed warriors; which fall pierced.
Bellows, within the cart, king Caradoc!
Who reads now all the falsehead of this queen.
The wains are halted, at the mead-hall porch!
Is this, night's chilling air; it is no dream!
Those groans, in twilight, are of wounded men.
Hark, battle-yells! Lo, gyved Caratacus,
The godlike hero is, from a covered cart,
Haled forth of vilain wights! They, impious, thrust
On the great warsire, chained, to the queen's hall.
The rest, with buffets, then, unseemly, enforce;
With murmur deep, gain-striving, to high-hall:
Who, lords of warlike peoples, had, alone,
With them, the power withstood of mighty Rome.
Those groans, in twilight, are of wounded men.
Hark, battle-yells! Lo, gyved Caratacus,
The godlike hero is, from a covered cart,
Haled forth of vilain wights! They, impious, thrust
On the great warsire, chained, to the queen's hall.
The rest, with buffets, then, unseemly, enforce;
With murmur deep, gain-striving, to high-hall:
Who, lords of warlike peoples, had, alone,
With them, the power withstood of mighty Rome.
Sits Cartismandua, in her great father's hall;
Pale is the harlot-queen. In Cunobal's stool,
She uneasy leans: bright bow bears her white hand.
Her royal guard, all beautiful young men,
Stand backward; looking forth, with ready spears.
Pale is the harlot-queen. In Cunobal's stool,
She uneasy leans: bright bow bears her white hand.
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Stand backward; looking forth, with ready spears.
But her imperious eyelids, from the floor,
Durst she not lift: she might not yet sustain,
Thy godlike looks, bewrayed Caratacus!
He Britons' king, (the visage wan, o'ergrown,
With beard, is seen, of great Cunobelin's son;)
Fierce-eyed beholds, from under thicket brows.
He bellows, heard that moan of dying men,
Without: shaking his chains, he waxed nigh mad!
He roars; and seems to quake Cunobal's moot-hall,
Whilst cites dull ear of heaven, Caratacus!
Durst she not lift: she might not yet sustain,
Thy godlike looks, bewrayed Caratacus!
He Britons' king, (the visage wan, o'ergrown,
With beard, is seen, of great Cunobelin's son;)
Fierce-eyed beholds, from under thicket brows.
He bellows, heard that moan of dying men,
Without: shaking his chains, he waxed nigh mad!
He roars; and seems to quake Cunobal's moot-hall,
Whilst cites dull ear of heaven, Caratacus!
Comes eftsoons in, then lawless Vellocatus;
Whom so abased have the queen's devilish drugs,
He bathes him with the witch, and sits perfumed,
Drinking, all days, sweet mead, in king's high hall;
Or dissolute else, in sun-bower of the queen,
(Built on the walls, adorned with feather-work,
And hanged with so fine precious lawn; might seem
That dew-dropt weft, which beards, when Harvest-moon
Wanes and fall the first leaves, the thorny glades.
And storied it had fingers, long and small,
Of Cerna and Erdila, of Belisama caught,
With needle-work; bright maidens of the queen;)
Devising how betray, even Britons' gods,
To Romans. Sped his bloody work, that prince,
In ivory settle, sate down, with the queen;
And hopes, with Cartismandua, to reign soon,
O'er all North March, with the strong aid of Rome!
Whom so abased have the queen's devilish drugs,
He bathes him with the witch, and sits perfumed,
Drinking, all days, sweet mead, in king's high hall;
Or dissolute else, in sun-bower of the queen,
(Built on the walls, adorned with feather-work,
And hanged with so fine precious lawn; might seem
That dew-dropt weft, which beards, when Harvest-moon
Wanes and fall the first leaves, the thorny glades.
And storied it had fingers, long and small,
Of Cerna and Erdila, of Belisama caught,
With needle-work; bright maidens of the queen;)
Devising how betray, even Britons' gods,
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In ivory settle, sate down, with the queen;
And hopes, with Cartismandua, to reign soon,
O'er all North March, with the strong aid of Rome!
He calls, for drink! Ceased now all noise of strife,
Without; behold, the ancients of this town,
Come bending in. But, in their secret, weep,
Old men, that call to mind great Cunobal;
Beholding, bound, betrayed in his high hall!
In ignominy of chains, this chosen of the gods;
Who duke of the resistance of blue Britons.
Without; behold, the ancients of this town,
Come bending in. But, in their secret, weep,
Old men, that call to mind great Cunobal;
Beholding, bound, betrayed in his high hall!
In ignominy of chains, this chosen of the gods;
Who duke of the resistance of blue Britons.
To them, with violent and stern voice, bespake;
Yet, on that terrible visage, could not look,
Burdening great Caradoc, falsely, Vellocatus;
How he would have delivered, to Venutios,
The queen. She only him forestalled in this:
And he himself must fight in her defence,
Whose blood derives, from that high warlike god,
Whose feast, renowned in all their coasts, to-night,
Isurium's citizens keep. His battle-wound,
Which bruised his brain, makes warlord Caradoc mad;
Whence now, from his obedience, all be loosed.
Yet, on that terrible visage, could not look,
Burdening great Caradoc, falsely, Vellocatus;
How he would have delivered, to Venutios,
The queen. She only him forestalled in this:
And he himself must fight in her defence,
Whose blood derives, from that high warlike god,
Whose feast, renowned in all their coasts, to-night,
Isurium's citizens keep. His battle-wound,
Which bruised his brain, makes warlord Caradoc mad;
Whence now, from his obedience, all be loosed.
Beckons high warsire Caradoc, he would speak:
But straightway is shouted down, of the queen's guard.
Ribalds, they mock godlike Caratacus!
Outcrying then, all at once, He is mad, mad, mad!
Stern, rising, in high settle, Vellocatus;
Steal the elders forth, afraid of their own deaths.
But straightway is shouted down, of the queen's guard.
Ribalds, they mock godlike Caratacus!
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Stern, rising, in high settle, Vellocatus;
Steal the elders forth, afraid of their own deaths.
From thence, not twenty leagues, stands walled Caer Ebroc;
Where keeps Venutios, now, his warlike court:
Whom fearing Vellocatus, lest he march,
To loose out of their hand Caratacus;
His fell thought whispers he, unto the queen!
Wherefore, so soon as they might hear, again,
The people's drunken stir still, in the street;
They Caradoc thrust, without or drink or meat,
Anew forth, chained, unto the night; and bound,
With him, his lords: and, in what covered carts,
They now arrived, again, men them, by force,
Shut in. Shall Vellocatus them, with chariots,
And household armed, string champions of the queen,
Convey forth, to the Romans' duke Ostorius!
Where keeps Venutios, now, his warlike court:
Whom fearing Vellocatus, lest he march,
To loose out of their hand Caratacus;
His fell thought whispers he, unto the queen!
Wherefore, so soon as they might hear, again,
The people's drunken stir still, in the street;
They Caradoc thrust, without or drink or meat,
Anew forth, chained, unto the night; and bound,
With him, his lords: and, in what covered carts,
They now arrived, again, men them, by force,
Shut in. Shall Vellocatus them, with chariots,
And household armed, string champions of the queen,
Convey forth, to the Romans' duke Ostorius!
They part: cries after, the injurious queen,
Come forth, before her porch; See they mad Caradoc
Keep well; they keep him low and scant his diet;
Lest, journeying, he break forth, to some excess!
In that she spake, slided the harlot's foot;
In dreary slime, spilth of men's murdered blood!
Come forth, before her porch; See they mad Caradoc
Keep well; they keep him low and scant his diet;
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In that she spake, slided the harlot's foot;
In dreary slime, spilth of men's murdered blood!
That great voice of the king, as by the street,
They pass, covers hoarse voice of trumpet's throat;
That seems to blow the vigil of the god.
They, come without the gate, their impious voyage
Pursue forth, under stars, and without pause;
Hoping thus to outgo the king Venutios.
Day dawned; awhile, they rest. All that sun, sith,
Taking fresh beasts, whereso they find, by force,
Those speed, till eve; they journey, yet, that night.
They pass, covers hoarse voice of trumpet's throat;
That seems to blow the vigil of the god.
They, come without the gate, their impious voyage
Pursue forth, under stars, and without pause;
Hoping thus to outgo the king Venutios.
Day dawned; awhile, they rest. All that sun, sith,
Taking fresh beasts, whereso they find, by force,
Those speed, till eve; they journey, yet, that night.
Last, almost spent, they win to mountain hold,
In march of the mid-Britons; whose bleak cliffs
Like some vast chamber, in moon's hoary light.
Strait is the gate, betwixt two justling rocks,
Whereas their beasts and wains may hardly pass;
A fastness of such strength, that might few warriors
Maintain it, gainst an army. Vellocatus,
Here now secure, will wait Rome's duke Ostorius;
Unto whom he sent, with utmost speed of horse.
In march of the mid-Britons; whose bleak cliffs
Like some vast chamber, in moon's hoary light.
Strait is the gate, betwixt two justling rocks,
Whereas their beasts and wains may hardly pass;
A fastness of such strength, that might few warriors
Maintain it, gainst an army. Vellocatus,
Here now secure, will wait Rome's duke Ostorius;
Unto whom he sent, with utmost speed of horse.
Now, in that night, (abhorred of men and gods!)
Wherein the witch-queen hath delivered bound,
Great Caradoc, unto felon Vellocatus;
Were many, in Cunobal's town, keeping the feast,
Of king Venutios' part. Were those, for late
They arrived, not slain. Then leapt some of them down,
From the dune wall; which fleeing, by dim paths;
Stint not their running, all night, on towards Ebroc.
Wherein the witch-queen hath delivered bound,
Great Caradoc, unto felon Vellocatus;
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Of king Venutios' part. Were those, for late
They arrived, not slain. Then leapt some of them down,
From the dune wall; which fleeing, by dim paths;
Stint not their running, all night, on towards Ebroc.
Lo, those, at hour, when gin the leafy woods,
To ring, with sweet consent of the small birds;
Draw nigh some forest hold, whereas abide
Four brethren, woodwards; which, gainst lawless wights,
That border keep, for king Venutios.
Heard the men's words, betwixt their panting breaths;
(Those left, to rest,) twain of the brethren ran.
From nigh hill-brow, the land-cry raise, anon,
That other twain. O'er wood, o'er field, speeds forth
Then tiding grave, to hamlets, village steads;
And gather warriors soon to king Venutios!
To ring, with sweet consent of the small birds;
Draw nigh some forest hold, whereas abide
Four brethren, woodwards; which, gainst lawless wights,
That border keep, for king Venutios.
Heard the men's words, betwixt their panting breaths;
(Those left, to rest,) twain of the brethren ran.
From nigh hill-brow, the land-cry raise, anon,
That other twain. O'er wood, o'er field, speeds forth
Then tiding grave, to hamlets, village steads;
And gather warriors soon to king Venutios!
Ere noon, are those two brethren nighing fast,
Unto Caer Ebroc! where already bands
Assemble armed. Those halting now, from race;
Where, mongst tall warriors, harnessed, stands Venutios;
One of the brethren, that assays erst speak,
Reels, falls, for brast his valorous heart, a corse!
Unto Caer Ebroc! where already bands
Assemble armed. Those halting now, from race;
Where, mongst tall warriors, harnessed, stands Venutios;
One of the brethren, that assays erst speak,
Reels, falls, for brast his valorous heart, a corse!
The king bade crown him, that lies dead, with bough,
Ere he were cold, of sacred yew. Heard then
His germain's tale; lifting his royal palms,
He prays the Sun all-seeing, far-shooting god;
With arrow of death, smite felon Vellocatus;
And give, that might he save Caratacus!
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His germain's tale; lifting his royal palms,
He prays the Sun all-seeing, far-shooting god;
With arrow of death, smite felon Vellocatus;
And give, that might he save Caratacus!
Now issue first foot-bands, from Ebroc walls.
By way that to Isurium leads, those hold:
(Shall king Venutios follow on, ere eve;
With all his horse, and speeding chariots.)
March Ebroc's host, with blowing trumps; and grows,
From league to league. Night-time, to them, Venutios
Arrives. But brought more certain word, at dawn,
Is, how, with wains, went forth king Vellocatus;
(And bounden, in them, lies Caratacus!)
From Caer Isurium, with strong guard of horse.
By way that to Isurium leads, those hold:
(Shall king Venutios follow on, ere eve;
With all his horse, and speeding chariots.)
March Ebroc's host, with blowing trumps; and grows,
From league to league. Night-time, to them, Venutios
Arrives. But brought more certain word, at dawn,
Is, how, with wains, went forth king Vellocatus;
(And bounden, in them, lies Caratacus!)
From Caer Isurium, with strong guard of horse.
Fast after; and he prays just battle-gods,
With burning heart, of vengeance as he rides.
Ridden on the spur, the Romans' duke, Ostorius,
Is reached now to that hold, with knights and horse:
And covenant there he makes, with Vellocatus,
At all times, send an aid of Roman arms,
To maintain Cartismandua the queen's part;
Gainst her strong foes, (now many,) in wide North March:
And Briton Vellocatus, on his part,
Shall now deliver him Caratacus.
Joining right hands, it, by his nation's gods,
Whom he betrays, swears felon Vellocatus!
Is reached now to that hold, with knights and horse:
And covenant there he makes, with Vellocatus,
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To maintain Cartismandua the queen's part;
Gainst her strong foes, (now many,) in wide North March:
And Briton Vellocatus, on his part,
Shall now deliver him Caratacus.
Joining right hands, it, by his nation's gods,
Whom he betrays, swears felon Vellocatus!
Britons, their warlord yield, to Britain's foes;
Yield, to be done, to shameful death in Rome!
There to be made a spectacle, ah! of scorn,
Nay of pity, even to his cruel adversaries.
Hero divine, they yield Caratacus!
Yield, to be done, to shameful death in Rome!
There to be made a spectacle, ah! of scorn,
Nay of pity, even to his cruel adversaries.
Hero divine, they yield Caratacus!
Called Gaulish smith, one who rides mongst his horse,
Commands Ostorius; he offsmite the chains
Of king Caratacus. Forbid it gods,
Quoth he, of Rome, so noble foe were bound!
That Roman duke then taking, by the hand,
The hero; admires, longtime, his royal feature!
His tribunes also gaze, on that great Briton,
And captains! he who, in swift-teamed shrill chariot;
And girt with royal band of barbare gold,
Leading blue hosts, had seemed some hostile god!
Commands Ostorius; he offsmite the chains
Of king Caratacus. Forbid it gods,
Quoth he, of Rome, so noble foe were bound!
That Roman duke then taking, by the hand,
The hero; admires, longtime, his royal feature!
His tribunes also gaze, on that great Briton,
And captains! he who, in swift-teamed shrill chariot;
And girt with royal band of barbare gold,
Leading blue hosts, had seemed some hostile god!
But when is come new dawn, leaving that place,
Ostorius; Caradoc, captive king of Britons,
Must, midst thick-spears ride, of Rome's Gaulish horse:
They, each night, after long swift journey, lodge,
For peril of the way, in fence of vallum.
Great is their charge, who bring Caratacus.
Ostorius, in his tent, him entertains.
Ostorius; Caradoc, captive king of Britons,
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They, each night, after long swift journey, lodge,
For peril of the way, in fence of vallum.
Great is their charge, who bring Caratacus.
Ostorius, in his tent, him entertains.
Last all, to legions' stative camp, arrive;
(Is that now Noviomagus, dune by Thames.)
And sith, ere this moon's end, with guard and wains,
Led in, sad captive, lo, bright Embla queen;
To adorn, with him, some cruel pomp in Rome!
(Is that now Noviomagus, dune by Thames.)
And sith, ere this moon's end, with guard and wains,
Led in, sad captive, lo, bright Embla queen;
To adorn, with him, some cruel pomp in Rome!
Her, journeying, horse which Cartismandua sent,
Had overtaken; and they, on her, did seize,
By fraud, and her sweet babe. Then, that fell queen,
Far ways about, from king Venutios' ken,
Did send them, with strong guard of horse, to Romans.
Had overtaken; and they, on her, did seize,
By fraud, and her sweet babe. Then, that fell queen,
Far ways about, from king Venutios' ken,
Did send them, with strong guard of horse, to Romans.
They few days dwell; and sorry is duke Ostorius,
For their nigh deaths; who pleasantly oft discourses,
In tongue of Latium, with these high-born Britons.
Then he commands, make ready, the ninth legion;
King Caradoc to convey, his wife and brethren,
To Cantion port; whereas they shall embark.
For their nigh deaths; who pleasantly oft discourses,
In tongue of Latium, with these high-born Britons.
Then he commands, make ready, the ninth legion;
King Caradoc to convey, his wife and brethren,
To Cantion port; whereas they shall embark.
Such power he sends; lest even, in Roman Province,
Some leaf-crowned Britons tempt, despising death,
Rescue their king. Behold is led king Caradoc,
Midst Roman soldiers; on tall Gaulish horse.
Some leaf-crowned Britons tempt, despising death,
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Midst Roman soldiers; on tall Gaulish horse.
From Thames' green banks, and all along the path,
Each hour, to vale of Kent, fast-flocking Britons,
Hanging their heads, spread disarmed hands and weep.
Fair women beat their open breasts, down loost,
(Clear as the gleaner's sheaf,) their long hair-locks,
Like to ring-gold. Is, all day, loud and great
Lament of those that see their warlord led,
Captive, in their own Land! and Embla queen,
That daughter of dead Kentish Dumnoveros:
And their sweet babe, the Maid-of-Kent, they name.
Each hour, to vale of Kent, fast-flocking Britons,
Hanging their heads, spread disarmed hands and weep.
Fair women beat their open breasts, down loost,
(Clear as the gleaner's sheaf,) their long hair-locks,
Like to ring-gold. Is, all day, loud and great
Lament of those that see their warlord led,
Captive, in their own Land! and Embla queen,
That daughter of dead Kentish Dumnoveros:
And their sweet babe, the Maid-of-Kent, they name.
At Dubris, galley-ships, lo, with stepped masts,
To take them in, ride ready; and merry wind
Blows fair. Ha! mock great Caradoc's captive case,
Even at his own white cliffs, of foster Britain,
That shall he see no more, Rome's legionaries;
Whose majesty them confounds. But generous Publius,
Who emulates that old continence of Romans!
(The prætor's son,) taking this king's right hand,
(Which multitude hath, untimely, of harnessed soldiers,
Sent down to hell,) walks with him to Kent strand,
Where he inships; and down even to sea-billows.
Last bids, with manly cheer and voice, Farewell!
The gods, cries he, of thee, most noble Briton,
Have cure! Him follows, with their daughter, Embla;
(To whom, mild countenance show Italic soldiers.)
In other keel, his oath-fast brethren sail.
To take them in, ride ready; and merry wind
Blows fair. Ha! mock great Caradoc's captive case,
Even at his own white cliffs, of foster Britain,
That shall he see no more, Rome's legionaries;
Whose majesty them confounds. But generous Publius,
Who emulates that old continence of Romans!
(The prætor's son,) taking this king's right hand,
(Which multitude hath, untimely, of harnessed soldiers,
Sent down to hell,) walks with him to Kent strand,
Where he inships; and down even to sea-billows.
Last bids, with manly cheer and voice, Farewell!
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Have cure! Him follows, with their daughter, Embla;
(To whom, mild countenance show Italic soldiers.)
In other keel, his oath-fast brethren sail.
They loost, at eve, to shun the pirate-navy;
At day-dawn, touched Mainland. Through plain then journey,
Of Gaul, in much disease, in covered carts,
Those royal Britons: sith, vast Alps overpassed;
They turn, (but captives now!) to hostile Rome.
At day-dawn, touched Mainland. Through plain then journey,
Of Gaul, in much disease, in covered carts,
Those royal Britons: sith, vast Alps overpassed;
They turn, (but captives now!) to hostile Rome.
Venutios speeding, with his warlike scythe-carts,
Drew nigh, the fourth day, to that mountain hold;
Where warded was betrayed Caratacus.
But they now all forlorn that strength behold!
Yet of poor wight, whom, under beechen shaw,
Larding few swine, they found, Venutios hears;
Was Vellocatus, yester, parted forth;
With horse and covered wains, and swift-teamed scythe-carts.
He led away, king Caradoc saw, mongst horse,
Of enemy strangers; that him hemmed, with spears!
Drew nigh, the fourth day, to that mountain hold;
Where warded was betrayed Caratacus.
But they now all forlorn that strength behold!
Yet of poor wight, whom, under beechen shaw,
Larding few swine, they found, Venutios hears;
Was Vellocatus, yester, parted forth;
With horse and covered wains, and swift-teamed scythe-carts.
He led away, king Caradoc saw, mongst horse,
Of enemy strangers; that him hemmed, with spears!
Vain pursue after were, the Roman squadrons,
With weary steeds. Then king Venutios rides,
At second morrow, on his enemy's trace.
When fade night stars, and gins new morn to break;
Being ready now to halt, and graze their teams,
They espy some wavering steeds of Vellocatus;
That browse, with bridles loost, in the fresh glades!
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At second morrow, on his enemy's trace.
When fade night stars, and gins new morn to break;
Being ready now to halt, and graze their teams,
They espy some wavering steeds of Vellocatus;
That browse, with bridles loost, in the fresh glades!
Blindness of heart had cast, on those false Britons,
Avenging gods; that wander they distraught,
Seeking widewhere, and cannot find their path:
Nor knoweth one, any more, his fellows' face
And voice. Steep clouds them seem some frowning woods,
Blue holts wan waves; fire seems the wavering wind,
Which, their distempered entrails thus consumes.
For victual spent and spoiled, they gnaw wild leaves;
But, kex and dwale, the angry Briton gods
Give to their hands; nor find they aught to drink,
Of that earth-mother's breast, which they betrayed!
(Had these been scattered, before Vellocatus;
Who slew his own folk, yester, from iron chariot;
When fell dire frenzy on him, from the gods!)
Avenging gods; that wander they distraught,
Seeking widewhere, and cannot find their path:
Nor knoweth one, any more, his fellows' face
And voice. Steep clouds them seem some frowning woods,
Blue holts wan waves; fire seems the wavering wind,
Which, their distempered entrails thus consumes.
For victual spent and spoiled, they gnaw wild leaves;
But, kex and dwale, the angry Briton gods
Give to their hands; nor find they aught to drink,
Of that earth-mother's breast, which they betrayed!
(Had these been scattered, before Vellocatus;
Who slew his own folk, yester, from iron chariot;
When fell dire frenzy on him, from the gods!)
Like heartless deer, dismayed, at thunder's sound,
They gaze on venging scythe-carts of Venutios!
That powdered, with long course, to them approach;
Whose riders shine, with glaives drawn to their deaths.
Then extreme headlong fury, upon them, seized.
Dispersedly, on sharp iron and whirling bronze,
They rush of him, who most expert of dukes.
He, like to erne, which, on his quarry, stoops;
Now on them hurls, without regard, save this,
Them make, and Vellocatus, ravens' meat!
They gaze on venging scythe-carts of Venutios!
That powdered, with long course, to them approach;
Whose riders shine, with glaives drawn to their deaths.
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Dispersedly, on sharp iron and whirling bronze,
They rush of him, who most expert of dukes.
He, like to erne, which, on his quarry, stoops;
Now on them hurls, without regard, save this,
Them make, and Vellocatus, ravens' meat!
Men diversely report, how eftsoons met;
That felon Vellocatus could not smite
His rightful lord, the king, whom he had wronged:
And how Venutios held his wrathful hand;
And would not slay a wretch, beside his mind;
To heaven, remitting his dread punishment!
Whereof bards, in their chants, strange things endite;
How of crude fiends, in guise of immane birds,
Being ravisht; and long buffeted in wild winds;
That prince was cast, in dim abysmal place;
Strewn, with their corses, which had gods offended;
That stings of serpents, fangs of ravening beasts,
And ravens' beaks send on them. Fretted die
They, each day, till eve: but made, at dawn, alive;
Each soul new wakens, to new direful death.
That felon Vellocatus could not smite
His rightful lord, the king, whom he had wronged:
And how Venutios held his wrathful hand;
And would not slay a wretch, beside his mind;
To heaven, remitting his dread punishment!
Whereof bards, in their chants, strange things endite;
How of crude fiends, in guise of immane birds,
Being ravisht; and long buffeted in wild winds;
That prince was cast, in dim abysmal place;
Strewn, with their corses, which had gods offended;
That stings of serpents, fangs of ravening beasts,
And ravens' beaks send on them. Fretted die
They, each day, till eve: but made, at dawn, alive;
Each soul new wakens, to new direful death.
Ere noon, were all his people cast away;
Nor more was Vellocatus seen of eye.
Men vainly him sought, among those bloody corses.
Howbe are some, which say, 'scaped Vellocatus;
And lived with Cartismandua, in secret wonne;
In luxury, until, when changed her woman's mind;
She, instead of wont love-potion, in his drink,
Strewed venim privily; whence he swelled and died.
Yet sith repenting, by tremendous spells,
She gods constrained to loose her love from death.
Nor more was Vellocatus seen of eye.
Men vainly him sought, among those bloody corses.
Howbe are some, which say, 'scaped Vellocatus;
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In luxury, until, when changed her woman's mind;
She, instead of wont love-potion, in his drink,
Strewed venim privily; whence he swelled and died.
Yet sith repenting, by tremendous spells,
She gods constrained to loose her love from death.
With strength of foot, horse and shrill battlechariots;
Then marched, against Isurium, king Venutios;
Whereof foreknowledge having the witch-queen,
By aery intelligences, which obey
To her enchantments, Fagl, she compelled,
Prince of air-running nation of false spirits;
And sends, by welken paths, back, to Ostorius.
Then marched, against Isurium, king Venutios;
Whereof foreknowledge having the witch-queen,
By aery intelligences, which obey
To her enchantments, Fagl, she compelled,
Prince of air-running nation of false spirits;
And sends, by welken paths, back, to Ostorius.
Fagl, gone forth; enters now Roman Verulam,
In form of Calduc. Squadron, with him, rides,
Of scythe-carts, whose hot teams vent hellish breath;
Nor might, save by 'scance-looking of their eyes,
From women's sons, be known those hollow fiends.
In form of Calduc. Squadron, with him, rides,
Of scythe-carts, whose hot teams vent hellish breath;
Nor might, save by 'scance-looking of their eyes,
From women's sons, be known those hollow fiends.
To Rome's prætorium, they presumptuous hold;
Where Fagl proffers tokens from the queen;
Then terms of late-sealed covenant, he recites,
Requiring instant succour of Rome's legions;
For marches all the North, against her raised!
Fagl, in porch, without the council-house,
Vaingloriously, with his, (his reasons said,)
Attends, then answer of the imperial legate.
Where Fagl proffers tokens from the queen;
Then terms of late-sealed covenant, he recites,
Requiring instant succour of Rome's legions;
For marches all the North, against her raised!
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Vaingloriously, with his, (his reasons said,)
Attends, then answer of the imperial legate.
The occasion, deems Ostorius asketh haste;
Is season fit to conquer all North Britain:
Wherefore, the same day, parted; he takes horse,
At Troynovant; sent letters on before,
To Camulodunum, and, (new burg on Yare,)
To Gariononum; to make ready cohorts;
Commanding, that those meet him, in the path.
Is season fit to conquer all North Britain:
Wherefore, the same day, parted; he takes horse,
At Troynovant; sent letters on before,
To Camulodunum, and, (new burg on Yare,)
To Gariononum; to make ready cohorts;
Commanding, that those meet him, in the path.
That royal witch, who skills black weathers raise,
And chain the wavering winds, sends other fiends;
Which, baleful, borne, on eager rushing wings,
Wake magic tempest; lightning splits the craigs:
Is filled then dusking air, with blasts of dread.
And met with other spirits, of hell-ground,
Those make earth's face to quake, and reel the woods;
Whence cumbered is the march of king Venutios.
And chain the wavering winds, sends other fiends;
Which, baleful, borne, on eager rushing wings,
Wake magic tempest; lightning splits the craigs:
Is filled then dusking air, with blasts of dread.
And met with other spirits, of hell-ground,
Those make earth's face to quake, and reel the woods;
Whence cumbered is the march of king Venutios.
Sith when that warlike king heard, how the legions
Approach; he rose from sieging round Isurium:
(Wherein all dwellers fear the outrageous queen;
That takes off, and for aught mistrust she hath,
Whomso she will, by venim, or night-murderers!)
Approach; he rose from sieging round Isurium:
(Wherein all dwellers fear the outrageous queen;
That takes off, and for aught mistrust she hath,
Whomso she will, by venim, or night-murderers!)
Venutios hastes hill-passage then beset,
Hemmed with sharp craigs; and whereby, the third morrow,
He deems, must marching Roman legions pass.
And seemed his chariot-wheels, as burning brass,
With hovering ravens' wings, so fleetly he drives;
Who most, of noble warriors in the North,
Is skilled, in full career, wield rushing teams.
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He deems, must marching Roman legions pass.
And seemed his chariot-wheels, as burning brass,
With hovering ravens' wings, so fleetly he drives;
Who most, of noble warriors in the North,
Is skilled, in full career, wield rushing teams.
Bands, with the king, ride, of Brigantine horse.
An armed backrider sits, on each steed's croup:
Are those, in fight, light-runners, with the scythe-carts.
Three-hundred follow, of the land's trimarch.
Run many chariots, with the king Venutios;
And powderous, flecked, with spume, come their teams' breasts.
Loud sound the stripes, of hundred crackling whips;
Of who tall lords, in them, to battle, ride.
Glister their rushing wheels, uprolling dust.
An armed backrider sits, on each steed's croup:
Are those, in fight, light-runners, with the scythe-carts.
Three-hundred follow, of the land's trimarch.
Run many chariots, with the king Venutios;
And powderous, flecked, with spume, come their teams' breasts.
Loud sound the stripes, of hundred crackling whips;
Of who tall lords, in them, to battle, ride.
Glister their rushing wheels, uprolling dust.
But looking forth, at morrow, from steep craig;
Far-glancing arms, of Romans' expedite cohorts,
Venutios sees, already past the strait!
He must return then back, to his caterfs.
Last he his weary powers draws to hill-foot;
Where now they rest, come eve, in covert place.
Far-glancing arms, of Romans' expedite cohorts,
Venutios sees, already past the strait!
He must return then back, to his caterfs.
Last he his weary powers draws to hill-foot;
Where now they rest, come eve, in covert place.
But when shines wide East threshold of day's god,
As a vast hearth; to battle impatient, blue
Brigantes hail this surging sun! Venutios
Leads forth his chariots. Seemed a whirlwind risen,
Then, like to storm-god, on the Summer plain.
Venutios foremost rides; and soughs the wind,
About his blowing hairs; that, like flame, girds
A bend of gold. Romans, at crow of clarions,
Though taken unwares, (had marched the legions' trains
Before the sun,) halt, range them, do helms on,
Embrace their shields. Their tribunes, at a run,
Lead up the rearward. Time fails, stand in ordinance;
Soldiers them gather round their stoutest ones.
Gauls' horse, in field, with knights of Rome, ride forth.
As a vast hearth; to battle impatient, blue
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Leads forth his chariots. Seemed a whirlwind risen,
Then, like to storm-god, on the Summer plain.
Venutios foremost rides; and soughs the wind,
About his blowing hairs; that, like flame, girds
A bend of gold. Romans, at crow of clarions,
Though taken unwares, (had marched the legions' trains
Before the sun,) halt, range them, do helms on,
Embrace their shields. Their tribunes, at a run,
Lead up the rearward. Time fails, stand in ordinance;
Soldiers them gather round their stoutest ones.
Gauls' horse, in field, with knights of Rome, ride forth.
Impetuous assault of swift iron scythe-carts;
(Whence barbare yells affray Italic breasts!)
Reap round them living swathe. Venutios leapt,
To grass, and chariot-riders, with him, made
Yet more red slaughter: for the king, in force,
Though old, is next to great Caratacus.
Drivers of iron scythe-carts, then draw off,
To breathe their sweated teams, for come his spears;
Which footmen now, in wide half-moon, he leads;
(Was this old warlike wont of Cunobal,
His enemies to enclose.) But went not forth,
To-day, Brigantine gods, mongst their blue warriors:
(Fear holds their hands, dread quells their divine breasts,
Of Fortune, god of Rome; that, in North March,
Arriving, threatens hurl them from their seats,
Aye and send them, exiles, forth!) whence shortly enforced,
The Britons' loosely ordained caterfs are seen!
Brigantine bands are, each from each, dispersed.
But, from an ambush, warriors, oak-leaf crowned,
Fell out, with so fierce brunt, they saved Venutios.
(Whence barbare yells affray Italic breasts!)
Reap round them living swathe. Venutios leapt,
To grass, and chariot-riders, with him, made
Yet more red slaughter: for the king, in force,
Though old, is next to great Caratacus.
Drivers of iron scythe-carts, then draw off,
To breathe their sweated teams, for come his spears;
Which footmen now, in wide half-moon, he leads;
(Was this old warlike wont of Cunobal,
His enemies to enclose.) But went not forth,
To-day, Brigantine gods, mongst their blue warriors:
(Fear holds their hands, dread quells their divine breasts,
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Arriving, threatens hurl them from their seats,
Aye and send them, exiles, forth!) whence shortly enforced,
The Britons' loosely ordained caterfs are seen!
Brigantine bands are, each from each, dispersed.
But, from an ambush, warriors, oak-leaf crowned,
Fell out, with so fierce brunt, they saved Venutios.
Come to Isurium soon, from field of fight,
Rome's duke, behold, Ostorius, with the legions!
Where Cartismandua, unworthy queen, now him,
With feast receives and honour, only due
To Britons' sire, betrayed Caratacus.
Princes of many lordships of North parts;
Then, (lest their dunes were burned and wide fields wasted;)
Come in, entreat of peace. The imperial legate
Will, (hostages imposed and yearly tribute,)
To Claudius some, the noblest of their sons,
Send; to be fostered up, in sovereign Rome:
But unto Romans, comes not king Venutios!
Rome's duke, behold, Ostorius, with the legions!
Where Cartismandua, unworthy queen, now him,
With feast receives and honour, only due
To Britons' sire, betrayed Caratacus.
Princes of many lordships of North parts;
Then, (lest their dunes were burned and wide fields wasted;)
Come in, entreat of peace. The imperial legate
Will, (hostages imposed and yearly tribute,)
To Claudius some, the noblest of their sons,
Send; to be fostered up, in sovereign Rome:
But unto Romans, comes not king Venutios!
These things determined, and left foot and horse,
For garrison; hastes to part again, Ostorius;
Had tidings of new tumult in his Province.
Chuchid is up, last son of Moelmabon:
(For valorous Cerix, prince, is dead, of late!
Whom all men favoured, hope of Deheubarth,
Of his sore, many, wounds; which he received,
Warding the warsire hurt.) From all West March,
Chuchid leads warlike youth; that come uneath,
To man's estate and spousing days, have crowned
Their beardless heads, with leaves, to fight, to death!
For garrison; hastes to part again, Ostorius;
Had tidings of new tumult in his Province.
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(For valorous Cerix, prince, is dead, of late!
Whom all men favoured, hope of Deheubarth,
Of his sore, many, wounds; which he received,
Warding the warsire hurt.) From all West March,
Chuchid leads warlike youth; that come uneath,
To man's estate and spousing days, have crowned
Their beardless heads, with leaves, to fight, to death!
But Cartismandua soon, queen, Briton-born,
Waxed weary in her light mood, of Cæsar's soldiers;
That up and down the street of Cunobal,
Chant insolent proverb, in lewd Latin tongue,
Woe to the vanquished! shamed, she daily hears,
Her royal maids; and Briton wives undone.
Waxed weary in her light mood, of Cæsar's soldiers;
That up and down the street of Cunobal,
Chant insolent proverb, in lewd Latin tongue,
Woe to the vanquished! shamed, she daily hears,
Her royal maids; and Briton wives undone.
Forlorn of all men, Vellocatus dead,
She now forsaken is of her fathers' gods.
Bright Belisama, in whom she hopéd most,
Abhors her, which betrayed Caratacus.
Though seethe she many a night-cropt cankered root,
Her magic spells have lost their former force;
Despise her perverse spirits now her behests.
The griesly night-hags of dread Morrigu's train,
Conspire, in their dark watch, to mock her rest;
(Wherein she shrieks, and weeps for Vellocatus!)
By day, are they as clarions, in her ears,
Tongues that upbraid, which whisper dark suggest;
To slay herself! ere vengeance of the gods,
Her overtake. She sees, before her, rise
The souls of all whom she hath done to death;
That beckon her, to pains of Underworld!
She now forsaken is of her fathers' gods.
Bright Belisama, in whom she hopéd most,
Abhors her, which betrayed Caratacus.
Though seethe she many a night-cropt cankered root,
Her magic spells have lost their former force;
Despise her perverse spirits now her behests.
The griesly night-hags of dread Morrigu's train,
Conspire, in their dark watch, to mock her rest;
(Wherein she shrieks, and weeps for Vellocatus!)
By day, are they as clarions, in her ears,
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To slay herself! ere vengeance of the gods,
Her overtake. She sees, before her, rise
The souls of all whom she hath done to death;
That beckon her, to pains of Underworld!
Then goddess, Kerriduen, in that march,
Of the Brigantine women, on her cast
Distemper foul: whence, full of loathsome sores,
Might she be known, bereaved her beauty, uneath.
And her luxurious loins are thrilled with ache.
Of the Brigantine women, on her cast
Distemper foul: whence, full of loathsome sores,
Might she be known, bereaved her beauty, uneath.
And her luxurious loins are thrilled with ache.
In vain, to Aermod, goddess, which hath charge
Of healing herbs; and, daughter of the god
Of leeches, Etain, Cartismandua calls.
Like carcase longtime dead, is this queen's corse
Become a stink: and who her lovers were,
Her now abhor. Great queen she, in North March,
Doth only therein live, that none ease hath;
Which, (when her journey done,) each thrall-wife hath!
Of healing herbs; and, daughter of the god
Of leeches, Etain, Cartismandua calls.
Like carcase longtime dead, is this queen's corse
Become a stink: and who her lovers were,
Her now abhor. Great queen she, in North March,
Doth only therein live, that none ease hath;
Which, (when her journey done,) each thrall-wife hath!
Moreover, seeks felon Calduc her decay;
Hoping, dead Cartismandua, or else undone;
He should himself sit, in great Cunobal's room:
But Cartismandua, semblant made of feast;
She taketh him off, by venim, in his meat,
So sharp, that burst his belly, or he deceased.
Hoping, dead Cartismandua, or else undone;
He should himself sit, in great Cunobal's room:
But Cartismandua, semblant made of feast;
She taketh him off, by venim, in his meat,
So sharp, that burst his belly, or he deceased.
Then fallen in hatred, of all men and gods;
And had all in suspect, the damnéd queen,
Used cruelty extreme; and daily did torment,
As many as she misweens conspire her death!
As one past hope, sought Cartismandua, at last,
Atonement of her much long-injured lord;
With secret proffer, to revolt from Rome.
But might not more Entreated be Venutios.
Alone, he grants, in grace of her great sire;
Her body dead, to bury, and not expose.
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Used cruelty extreme; and daily did torment,
As many as she misweens conspire her death!
As one past hope, sought Cartismandua, at last,
Atonement of her much long-injured lord;
With secret proffer, to revolt from Rome.
But might not more Entreated be Venutios.
Alone, he grants, in grace of her great sire;
Her body dead, to bury, and not expose.
In vain, she mullen burns and sacred vervain;
And, in the thick fumes, mutters mighty spells;
Which wont to open doors were, of dark Hell,
And move dead world: she calls strong spirits beneath!
Her maidens answer, only, to her crying;
Havisia, and eye-bright Erdila and Goleudyth,
And Arianlys. The people tell, in form
Then of swart hound, the royal hag outran;
Banning the gods, whose anger her transmewed,
(Her, hairy hide now covers!) to beast's shape.
And, in the thick fumes, mutters mighty spells;
Which wont to open doors were, of dark Hell,
And move dead world: she calls strong spirits beneath!
Her maidens answer, only, to her crying;
Havisia, and eye-bright Erdila and Goleudyth,
And Arianlys. The people tell, in form
Then of swart hound, the royal hag outran;
Banning the gods, whose anger her transmewed,
(Her, hairy hide now covers!) to beast's shape.
She delves, in graves, with her inhuman claws:
She rends dead flesh; and that by covert night.
And rotten hearts, of who her enemies were,
Plucks forth! (her hand the most sent to their deaths!)
To make more devilish charms, then on green grass:
Whence burdens her the people's dreadful curse!
She rends dead flesh; and that by covert night.
And rotten hearts, of who her enemies were,
Plucks forth! (her hand the most sent to their deaths!)
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Whence burdens her the people's dreadful curse!
Being come Caratacus, and Embla and peers,
With long disease, to gates of hostile Rome;
When it is night, and no man in the ways;
To the Gemonium, (prison named of sighs;)
All brought, in covered carts, therein were cast:
Where hidden, in loathsome den, beneath the earth,
As in a tomb, from heaven's cheerful light;
They await the ignominy of most cruel deaths!
By strangling, at base hands of vilain wights.
With long disease, to gates of hostile Rome;
When it is night, and no man in the ways;
To the Gemonium, (prison named of sighs;)
All brought, in covered carts, therein were cast:
Where hidden, in loathsome den, beneath the earth,
As in a tomb, from heaven's cheerful light;
They await the ignominy of most cruel deaths!
By strangling, at base hands of vilain wights.
Yet erst will Claudius show Caratacus;
(King, which these nine years hath withstood his legions;)
A public spectacle, in the Roman streets.
(King, which these nine years hath withstood his legions;)
A public spectacle, in the Roman streets.
Behold then, on set day, those royal Britons,
Sad, squalid, chained, are lifted, bleak of hew,
Up, from that dreadful lower prison-pit,
Of Servius Tullius; (which, four-paces deep,
Is ceiled with stone, beneath the Roman street;)
Into sun's blissful ray, to march, from weight
Of night, to death! Behold Caratacus!
With pomp, (great barbare Island's king!) led forth;
By the world's sovereign-City's thronged paved street;
And through triumphal arc, decreed to Claudius;
Whereon his fond new name Britannicus, writ!
Behold, bronze images, gilt, on that arc's top,
Set up; of Britons' trimarch, and scythed war-carts:
And, in the entablature, battle, graved, is seen,
Before paled walls of hill-set Camulodunum!
Sad, squalid, chained, are lifted, bleak of hew,
Up, from that dreadful lower prison-pit,
Of Servius Tullius; (which, four-paces deep,
Is ceiled with stone, beneath the Roman street;)
Into sun's blissful ray, to march, from weight
Of night, to death! Behold Caratacus!
With pomp, (great barbare Island's king!) led forth;
By the world's sovereign-City's thronged paved street;
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Whereon his fond new name Britannicus, writ!
Behold, bronze images, gilt, on that arc's top,
Set up; of Britons' trimarch, and scythed war-carts:
And, in the entablature, battle, graved, is seen,
Before paled walls of hill-set Camulodunum!
Loud trumpets sound! Much insolent concourse is
Descended, in Rome's ways, of mingled speech;
(For flow the world's offscourings now by Rome,
Wherein are infinite slaves of many wars.)
Stand, on all foot-ways, Rome's proud citizens,
Ranged; bove whom framed be scaffolds, in long rows;
Where sit patricians, and Rome's senators;
And ambassades, with purpled magistrates;
Women look proudly on, from every porch;
Stairs, pillared temples. Other throng house-tops;
Where great Britannic king Caratacus,
Their Sacred Way along, towards his death,
Shall pass. He cometh, lo, chained, like salvage beast!
Afoot. With him fares Embla; and, twixt them both,
Their little daughter traces, Maid-of-Kent.
Descended, in Rome's ways, of mingled speech;
(For flow the world's offscourings now by Rome,
Wherein are infinite slaves of many wars.)
Stand, on all foot-ways, Rome's proud citizens,
Ranged; bove whom framed be scaffolds, in long rows;
Where sit patricians, and Rome's senators;
And ambassades, with purpled magistrates;
Women look proudly on, from every porch;
Stairs, pillared temples. Other throng house-tops;
Where great Britannic king Caratacus,
Their Sacred Way along, towards his death,
Shall pass. He cometh, lo, chained, like salvage beast!
Afoot. With him fares Embla; and, twixt them both,
Their little daughter traces, Maid-of-Kent.
His brethren peers, come after, in Rome-street.
As, on Jugurtha bound, all Romans gaze,
On thee; (with ribald jests, they mock thy looks,)
Sword-of-the-gods, divine Caratacus!
As, on Jugurtha bound, all Romans gaze,
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Sword-of-the-gods, divine Caratacus!
Great king Cunobelin's scythe-cart, then is seen;
Wherein war-kings of Britain wont to ride.
It draw forth, teamed, six tall young noble Britons,
War-captives! and winged dragon seemed the beam;
With vermeil shining scales. The bilge is full
Of dints; yet seen distained with battle-blood!
The wheels seem running eagle's claws, of bronze.
And men those barbare brazen hooks behold,
Whereon, were wont be hanged, in every field,
The off-hewed polls, of chief slain ones of Romans!
Wherein war-kings of Britain wont to ride.
It draw forth, teamed, six tall young noble Britons,
War-captives! and winged dragon seemed the beam;
With vermeil shining scales. The bilge is full
Of dints; yet seen distained with battle-blood!
The wheels seem running eagle's claws, of bronze.
And men those barbare brazen hooks behold,
Whereon, were wont be hanged, in every field,
The off-hewed polls, of chief slain ones of Romans!
Was taken that royal cart, at Camulodunum;
Wherein is reared now of Cunobelin,
Broad sun-bright targe; and hauberk of Manannan.
The shrieking Briton axe-tree, of hard bronze,
Rumbles, not-washt, with scab of battle-dust,
And rotten gore, on, dread, through mighty Rome:
And thereon gazing, shrink the hearts of Romans;
That fear again the antique Gauls of Brennus!
Wherein is reared now of Cunobelin,
Broad sun-bright targe; and hauberk of Manannan.
The shrieking Briton axe-tree, of hard bronze,
Rumbles, not-washt, with scab of battle-dust,
And rotten gore, on, dread, through mighty Rome:
And thereon gazing, shrink the hearts of Romans;
That fear again the antique Gauls of Brennus!
Thereafter, four-wheel Briton wagons drawn
Are. March tall young men, captives of the Isle,
Beside; upholding barbare glittering ensigns.
Those wains pass forth, behanged with painted shields,
Of island peoples, vanquished in the wars.
Gleam war-horns, in the first, and long iron glaives:
Bound, in the next, lo, thraves of bronze-head spears.
Are. March tall young men, captives of the Isle,
Beside; upholding barbare glittering ensigns.
Those wains pass forth, behanged with painted shields,
Of island peoples, vanquished in the wars.
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Bound, in the next, lo, thraves of bronze-head spears.
Passeth forth godlike, pale, Caratacus,
(Whose only arm a nation's shelter was!)
Betrayed, not taken, in wars; midst dog-faced press.
The Briton king, erect, magnanimous,
Vouchsafes not them behold. The stings have pierced,
Of ire, his noble breast; proud sorrow slays.
(Whose only arm a nation's shelter was!)
Betrayed, not taken, in wars; midst dog-faced press.
The Briton king, erect, magnanimous,
Vouchsafes not them behold. The stings have pierced,
Of ire, his noble breast; proud sorrow slays.
On Embla's looks, long-time, all Romans gaze!
Though she, from prison-pit, come lean and wan;
So fair a woman's face, is none in Rome.
Her tresst locks part are wounden, like to crown,
Upon her noble front; part, backlong hang,
Like veil of gold. She, sad-faced Britain's queen,
Hath a royal majesty, in her countenance!
Though she, from prison-pit, come lean and wan;
So fair a woman's face, is none in Rome.
Her tresst locks part are wounden, like to crown,
Upon her noble front; part, backlong hang,
Like veil of gold. She, sad-faced Britain's queen,
Hath a royal majesty, in her countenance!
Like snowdrop pale, (the innocent oppressed!)
Their maiden child, she leads on by the hand.
(These oft speak, twixt them both, in Briton tongue.)
That little daughter dreads swart looks of Romans;
And cannot choose but weep, because these chains
The king, her father, bears: nor wots, (amaze
Her, so sore, all things;) they wend to their deaths!
Their maiden child, she leads on by the hand.
(These oft speak, twixt them both, in Briton tongue.)
That little daughter dreads swart looks of Romans;
And cannot choose but weep, because these chains
The king, her father, bears: nor wots, (amaze
Her, so sore, all things;) they wend to their deaths!
Those peers, that follow, of Caratacus,
(His brethren named,) seem harts, mongst wolves of Romans.
The cruel Romans murmur, whilst they pass;
What joy were, see these enemies cast to beasts!
Great-statured Idhig seems them Father Mars,
His harness doffed; such his great brawns and breast!
(His brethren named,) seem harts, mongst wolves of Romans.
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What joy were, see these enemies cast to beasts!
Great-statured Idhig seems them Father Mars,
His harness doffed; such his great brawns and breast!
One led, lo, of the royal war-cart steeds,
Which Caradoc fed, with the white barley ears;
And Embla's white hand combed, in far-off Britain;
His mane, long-drooping, stains yet warlike woad.
Is he the last of those which drew the chariot
And royal sons of great Cunobelin;
With silver bit, and barded to the ground,
With gingling little chains: dight his breast harness,
With coral studs, and emailled scaly brass,
Fashioned like sheen spring-leaves and bright-hewed flowers.
Lace, of great pearls, hangs, on his neck, of glass.
Which Caradoc fed, with the white barley ears;
And Embla's white hand combed, in far-off Britain;
His mane, long-drooping, stains yet warlike woad.
Is he the last of those which drew the chariot
And royal sons of great Cunobelin;
With silver bit, and barded to the ground,
With gingling little chains: dight his breast harness,
With coral studs, and emailled scaly brass,
Fashioned like sheen spring-leaves and bright-hewed flowers.
Lace, of great pearls, hangs, on his neck, of glass.
Not as when Hart-foot, with his dam, Blue-mane;
Or his yoke-fellow, swift Gold-hoof, he ran,
Under bright silver yoke-tree of Cunobelin;
And shook the hulver-beam of the king's chariot.
Wound-weary old, this famous battle-steed,
Gaul's long paved way, and, sith, vast Alps hath passed.
On his broad chine, hath carrion leanness seized.
His bronze-shod hooves, which wont, in island Britain,
To trample Roman shields, uneath tread forth.
Of stature low, he goeth, in Rome's paved street,
With drooping crest. And heard, mongst mocking Romans,
Was word, from mouth to mouth, Whether is this
The horse or ass, of king Caratacus?
Or his yoke-fellow, swift Gold-hoof, he ran,
Under bright silver yoke-tree of Cunobelin;
And shook the hulver-beam of the king's chariot.
Wound-weary old, this famous battle-steed,
Gaul's long paved way, and, sith, vast Alps hath passed.
On his broad chine, hath carrion leanness seized.
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To trample Roman shields, uneath tread forth.
Of stature low, he goeth, in Rome's paved street,
With drooping crest. And heard, mongst mocking Romans,
Was word, from mouth to mouth, Whether is this
The horse or ass, of king Caratacus?
They gaze on arms upborne, of tall blue warriors,
On staves and tables, of two Briton kings.
But most Manannan's hauberk Rome admires;
That casts, divine, a strange victorious gleam!
Much like quaint precious armure which uphangs,
In temple of Bellona, of Britomaros;
Or that of Gaulish king Bituitus;
Who rode in Fabius' triumph, of old time;
In silver war-cart, clad in gilt ceiled harness.
On staves and tables, of two Briton kings.
But most Manannan's hauberk Rome admires;
That casts, divine, a strange victorious gleam!
Much like quaint precious armure which uphangs,
In temple of Bellona, of Britomaros;
Or that of Gaulish king Bituitus;
Who rode in Fabius' triumph, of old time;
In silver war-cart, clad in gilt ceiled harness.
Men gaze on Caradoc's helm, of lucid steel,
Whose crest that dragon of his royal house;
And golden belt of strength, and tremble Romans:
And the king's glaive, which heapmeal hath slain soldiers.
The same is noised, was sword renowned, that Brennus
Cast in those antique balances of old Rome!
Whose crest that dragon of his royal house;
And golden belt of strength, and tremble Romans:
And the king's glaive, which heapmeal hath slain soldiers.
The same is noised, was sword renowned, that Brennus
Cast in those antique balances of old Rome!
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Yet seen borne collars, kingly ornaments,
Gold frets, broad brooches, rings and long-spired bracelets,
Cups, silver mead-horns of old Verulam kings;
Gold bends of charioteers, bright tyres of steeds;
Then spoil of infinite bronze, lead, silver, tin.
Last princes, hostages, of submitted tribes,
Of Britons, march; about whose noble necks,
Wreathed torques shine, of the fine burnt gold of Britain!
Gold frets, broad brooches, rings and long-spired bracelets,
Cups, silver mead-horns of old Verulam kings;
Gold bends of charioteers, bright tyres of steeds;
Then spoil of infinite bronze, lead, silver, tin.
Last princes, hostages, of submitted tribes,
Of Britons, march; about whose noble necks,
Wreathed torques shine, of the fine burnt gold of Britain!
| The Dawn in Britain | |