 | The Dawn in Britain |  |
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!
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