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The Dawn in Britain

by Charles M. Doughty

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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!
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!
Fell Mona's valiant champions, round their prince.

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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.
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!
Now enters Britons' bulwark, duke Ostorius,
On his white horse. He, lo, upholdeth glaive!
His clarions sound, then, Cease from fight! The legate

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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.