University of Virginia Library

Search this document 
The Dawn in Britain

by Charles M. Doughty

collapse section 
collapse section 
 I. 
 II. 
 III. 
 IV. 
 V. 
 VI. 
 VII. 
 VIII. 
 IX. 
 X. 
 XI. 
 XII. 
 XIII. 
 XIV. 
 XV. 
 XVI. 
expand sectionXVII. 
 XVIII. 
 XIX. 
 XX. 
 XXI. 
 XXII. 
 XXIII. 
 XXIV. 

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!
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!

212

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.
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!
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;

213

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.
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.
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.
Magnanimous, ah, but too unequal dures,
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;

214

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.
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!
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.

215

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.
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!
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;

216

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.
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!
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.