The Dawn in Britain by Charles M. Doughty |
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| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
 | XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. | BOOK XXII |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
 | The Dawn in Britain |  |
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BOOK XXII
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ARGUMENT
Claudius' temple taken. Boudicca destroys the image of Claudius, therein. Britons dig down and furiously overthrow the temple-walls. Burned Roman Camulodunum, they march now forth, dread glast-stained multitude. In their way to Troynovant, they encounter, in an heath and utterly overthrow, the ninth legion. Come to Londinium, they make slaughter of all of Roman name, therein. Alexander attains the crown of martyrdom.
Boudicca, in Verulam, is acclaimed Lady-of-war! Her speech to the Britons! They march; and next day lodge in a border of the East-forest. Suetonius hastily marched from Mona; seen their watchfires, pitches nigh Britons' camp, that night. Boudicca, at dawn, beheld the Romans' castra, blows loud battle-note. She, twixt her royal daughters, drives forth armed in Prasutagos' battle-cart.
Suetonius' speech, to his soldiers. Battle joined, the royal maidens most valiantly fight. Three noble youths, their former wooers, run, in arms, beside the royal chariot. Suetonius' cohorts break through the Britons' loosely-arrayéd multitude.
The queen's flight. Digol and Eorth close their valley-passage, against the pursuit of Roman horse. Boudicca is come, at even, to a sacred grove: where her servants build a pyre. At dawn, the royal maids, thereon ascended, drink of a deadly cup, which Boudicca hath prepared. She, heard coming of the Romans, last upmounts: she also drinks thereof; and falls
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Famine in Britain. Joseph and the brethren succour the fainting people, in Alban. Caer Bran, in Mendip, is now a Roman villa of Aulus Verus. His son, Pudens, wounded, is besieged, in a tower, with one Felix Murcius. Pudens journeys, with Felix, to Mendip.
Pistos passing-by, from Avalon, finds Felix. Pistos persuades him to seek healing, for Pudens, at the hands of Syrian Joseph. When Spring is come; Pudens rides with Felix, to visit the man of God. The Roman knight, walking in Alban fields, sees trooping flocks and herdmaidens; and one among them, who is like unto an heavenly vision! At even, he goeth, with Felix, to salute Salema. Rosmerta reads forth the Lyber Bret. Pudens, returned to Mendip villa, languishes for love of Rosmerta. Then cometh again Pistos, to Verus' house; and Pudens beholds his servants, at dawn, assembled, to break bread of the New Life. He also lifts up his heart, unto the High God, of Joseph!
Again is a bitter cry of famine, in the Province. The sea, in a night-tempest, beat over the strand; and drowned is now the plain of Alban. Pudens obtains the legate's commission, to repair those sea-breaches. He rides to Avalon, where Rosmerta hath care of all the fugitive hungry women and little ones; that are come in. An angel from heaven crowneth the praying maiden.
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When some goodwhile then Britons mark no watch,
On the tower-head; new leaf-crowned men upmount.
They win, they stand on the fane's battled top:
Where none make more defence; now heartless Romans,
Failing their victual, and their water spent;
Nor hope of succour left. Is duke Suetonius,
Far-off, with strength of legions, in West parts.
On the tower-head; new leaf-crowned men upmount.
They win, they stand on the fane's battled top:
Where none make more defence; now heartless Romans,
Failing their victual, and their water spent;
Nor hope of succour left. Is duke Suetonius,
Far-off, with strength of legions, in West parts.
Those, under statua of godded impotent Claudius,
Hold hasty council, on the marble stones;
Nor rests, or heart or spirit, in their cold breasts.
They stand, as men condemned, that wait for death!
Hold hasty council, on the marble stones;
Nor rests, or heart or spirit, in their cold breasts.
They stand, as men condemned, that wait for death!
Those reason, must they evil ending make:
And cause was the only avarice of cursed Catus,
Exacting taxes, which remitted Claudius;
Whereto joined usury is, in Roman Province;
More than might Britain's sunless soil bring forth.
Best greatest Jove, requite all such, with loss!
They cry, by whom, after much blood and wars,
They, which had hoped to pass few quiet years;
Be now, in this dread tumult, like to perish.
And cause was the only avarice of cursed Catus,
Exacting taxes, which remitted Claudius;
Whereto joined usury is, in Roman Province;
More than might Britain's sunless soil bring forth.
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They cry, by whom, after much blood and wars,
They, which had hoped to pass few quiet years;
Be now, in this dread tumult, like to perish.
To them, each sound is death. Hark! gods of Rome!
Hark! trample barbare feet the temple-roof.
Hurl now down Britons, by the marble stairs;
Gods! those tower-stairs, which they forgate to fence!
Short fearful then the strife, so aghast were Romans;
Nor marked, how few and naked wights them smite.
Hark! trample barbare feet the temple-roof.
Hurl now down Britons, by the marble stairs;
Gods! those tower-stairs, which they forgate to fence!
Short fearful then the strife, so aghast were Romans;
Nor marked, how few and naked wights them smite.
Dim is, with only the priests' lamps, the place;
Under proud arcs of that high vaulted roof;
Whereas now harnessed Romans, as penned beasts,
Twixt wall and pillars perish: chace them forth,
With dreadful cries! victorious fierce blue Britons.
Would soldiers, that they mold-warps were; then might
These flinty walls they undercreep, to earth.
Like bats they flit, they fall now heartless press!
Under proud arcs of that high vaulted roof;
Whereas now harnessed Romans, as penned beasts,
Twixt wall and pillars perish: chace them forth,
With dreadful cries! victorious fierce blue Britons.
Would soldiers, that they mold-warps were; then might
These flinty walls they undercreep, to earth.
Like bats they flit, they fall now heartless press!
Soon are the walls, with gore, stained; the pave-stones,
Under men's tread, swim thick Italic blood!
Smells Claudius' temple, as some slaughter-house!
Blood-sprent even Claudius' image was then seen;
Whom fatal Fortune, genius of proud Rome,
Made Cæsar, to destruction of Isle Britain;
And mockery, even unto ages yet unborn,
A god! Were eftsoons all those Romans slain!
Under men's tread, swim thick Italic blood!
Smells Claudius' temple, as some slaughter-house!
Blood-sprent even Claudius' image was then seen;
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Made Cæsar, to destruction of Isle Britain;
And mockery, even unto ages yet unborn,
A god! Were eftsoons all those Romans slain!
Britons, augustales find, in secret adit;
(Are Claudius' priests,) proud queazy, faltering-kneed,
Men, fat of the lean people's gifts. Haled forth,
Them chace fierce wights, without the temple-gates;
That they, now day, break up, with fearful shout!
Where angry Britons' concourse those receiving;
Hundred hands buffet them! Done their tunics on,
Some play, in mumming-wise, then, Roman rites.
(Are Claudius' priests,) proud queazy, faltering-kneed,
Men, fat of the lean people's gifts. Haled forth,
Them chace fierce wights, without the temple-gates;
That they, now day, break up, with fearful shout!
Where angry Britons' concourse those receiving;
Hundred hands buffet them! Done their tunics on,
Some play, in mumming-wise, then, Roman rites.
Mad druids, upon the altar of dead Claudius,
(He who decreed, their bloody sacrifices
Should cease,) some of them slew! Boudicca entering
The fane then, statua of Claudius all defaced;
Hewing, with broad-sword of wronged Prasutagos,
And wreak of woman's arm, the impious stone.
(He who decreed, their bloody sacrifices
Should cease,) some of them slew! Boudicca entering
The fane then, statua of Claudius all defaced;
Hewing, with broad-sword of wronged Prasutagos,
And wreak of woman's arm, the impious stone.
Sith, under-delved; those temple-castle walls;
Heaving on cables, might of thousand hands,
Plucked down, in dreadful ruin, to the ground,
On Romans' bones. Few of those priests reserved,
In purple stoles, (like women, gem-adorned!)
Men set on the elephants, here, from days of Claudius,
Remained alive: and those huge beasts, through camps
They lead, and lodgings of blue mingled Britons;
That all, with mocks, cast mire, on them, their fill.
Heaving on cables, might of thousand hands,
Plucked down, in dreadful ruin, to the ground,
On Romans' bones. Few of those priests reserved,
In purple stoles, (like women, gem-adorned!)
Men set on the elephants, here, from days of Claudius,
Remained alive: and those huge beasts, through camps
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That all, with mocks, cast mire, on them, their fill.
Last, in strait place, men hurl, betwixt two walls,
Those priests to ground; and o'er them cause to pass
The elephants: those thus, trampled, bruised to death,
Were: on whom men slay, also, the huge beasts;
Wreaking them of past injuries of proud Romans!
Those priests to ground; and o'er them cause to pass
The elephants: those thus, trampled, bruised to death,
Were: on whom men slay, also, the huge beasts;
Wreaking them of past injuries of proud Romans!
Who Romans' wives then, and their children small,
Pale weeping company, are, to brackish shore,
(The outraged queen commanding,) led forth, where
Colne's land-stream, wide commingles with salt flood.
There some, being now low ebb, they bind, on stones;
Other to pales, driven in the stinking ooze:
So leave to drench, under a rising tide.
Who looking, then, from hill of Camulus,
Beheld their anguish; how, like worms, those perish!
Last burned Boudicca the new Roman town.
Pale weeping company, are, to brackish shore,
(The outraged queen commanding,) led forth, where
Colne's land-stream, wide commingles with salt flood.
There some, being now low ebb, they bind, on stones;
Other to pales, driven in the stinking ooze:
So leave to drench, under a rising tide.
Who looking, then, from hill of Camulus,
Beheld their anguish; how, like worms, those perish!
Last burned Boudicca the new Roman town.
Britons pass forth! By queen Boudicca's chariot,
With their stout herdmen, blowing shepherds' pipes;
Digol and Eorth march, armed with Roman glaives.
Brethren, then, of the queen come, in one war-cart,
Merdewy and Perigor; midst who oak-leaf crowned,
Conquerors of Claudius' fane, remained alive.
Sith druids, which chant loud hymns, to Camulus.
With their stout herdmen, blowing shepherds' pipes;
Digol and Eorth march, armed with Roman glaives.
Brethren, then, of the queen come, in one war-cart,
Merdewy and Perigor; midst who oak-leaf crowned,
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Sith druids, which chant loud hymns, to Camulus.
Follow them pomp of the chief men of war;
The first bear captive-ensigns of proud Romans.
With shout and dance then, guirlanded with flowers,
The honour of the field, to the war-god;
Thick-thronging, headlong, Britons' multitude,
With immense noise, disordinately beat
That Pedder-street, which to New London leads;
For dread revolt grows daily of East Province!
The first bear captive-ensigns of proud Romans.
With shout and dance then, guirlanded with flowers,
The honour of the field, to the war-god;
Thick-thronging, headlong, Britons' multitude,
With immense noise, disordinately beat
That Pedder-street, which to New London leads;
For dread revolt grows daily of East Province!
The third day was, when they, in wide waste heath,
Meet, hastily marched against them, with few horse,
The ninth Hispaniensis' expedite cohorts,
Whose tribune one Petilius Curialis;
(The same, who prætor sith, Brigantia's March,
For Cæsar, wan.) Britons fall, naked warriors,
Loose, mingled, glast-stained host, upon them, furious!
Meet, hastily marched against them, with few horse,
The ninth Hispaniensis' expedite cohorts,
Whose tribune one Petilius Curialis;
(The same, who prætor sith, Brigantia's March,
For Cæsar, wan.) Britons fall, naked warriors,
Loose, mingled, glast-stained host, upon them, furious!
As raging flood, which all before it bears;
They overrun, like sheepy flocks, Rome's ordinance:
Nor cease, to-day, they slay them; till wax weary
Their gory hands. With few knights, fled Petilius,
Gainst eve; when nigh destroyed was now the legion!
They overrun, like sheepy flocks, Rome's ordinance:
Nor cease, to-day, they slay them; till wax weary
Their gory hands. With few knights, fled Petilius,
Gainst eve; when nigh destroyed was now the legion!
Britons, thence, the third morrow, to Lud's town;
Lóud host, arrive, men bearing Roman arms.
To Troynovant they, with fury, by new bridge,
Of beams, and the ford's shallows, overpass:
Where lately, (of his war-wounds, mongst sorrowing Britons,
And abhorred Romans, dead;) made, for Marunus,
(Who, mongst men, seemed of kindred with the gods!)
By silver-streaming Thames, were wailful funerals.
Lóud host, arrive, men bearing Roman arms.
To Troynovant they, with fury, by new bridge,
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Where lately, (of his war-wounds, mongst sorrowing Britons,
And abhorred Romans, dead;) made, for Marunus,
(Who, mongst men, seemed of kindred with the gods!)
By silver-streaming Thames, were wailful funerals.
Full that new city of strangers; all whom Britons
In-thronging meet, with Roman glaives, they smite:
Till choked all common ways, with carcases.
And as, in Gaul, we see beyond the seas,
In vintage days, streets run, with lees of wine;
So these, to brackish Thames, with Romans' blood!
In-thronging meet, with Roman glaives, they smite:
Till choked all common ways, with carcases.
And as, in Gaul, we see beyond the seas,
In vintage days, streets run, with lees of wine;
So these, to brackish Thames, with Romans' blood!
Britons, with hymns, heap spoil, to Andates,
Victorious goddess, without Troynovant walls;
And divine Bran, and glast-stained Camulus;
Whose praises still, till fall of night, they chant.
Last then, with brands, they fire the wooden streets;
On both sides Thames; and burn, at bank, all ships.
Smoke of Thames' burning city, dimmed the world.
See far-off peoples, her wide-shining gleam,
In their night-firmament! In this sénnight perished,
As thirty-thousand souls, of Roman name!
Victorious goddess, without Troynovant walls;
And divine Bran, and glast-stained Camulus;
Whose praises still, till fall of night, they chant.
Last then, with brands, they fire the wooden streets;
On both sides Thames; and burn, at bank, all ships.
Smoke of Thames' burning city, dimmed the world.
See far-off peoples, her wide-shining gleam,
In their night-firmament! In this sénnight perished,
As thirty-thousand souls, of Roman name!
Had Alexander, of Christ's shipwrecked saints;
Which yet remain, in Britain's fenny Alban;
(By mouth of Pistos, faithful in the Lord,)
Been called of certain proselytes, men which, ere-
Time, had believed, in Asia, on Jews' God;
(Being of the parts of Lycia, and of Greeks' speech;
And servants to the legion now at Aquæ:)
To teach to them, that way of the New Life.
And, when had, of the Lord, enquired and prayed,
Christ's little Church; they devout hands, all laid,
On Simon's son: and sent that man of God,
Amongst the strangers forth, to pasture souls.
He, at year's end, síth, to Calleva passed;
And thence to new-built Roman Troynovant,
In the mutation of the garrison cohorts.
He sojourned there in hall, fast by Thames' side;
For the receipt of merchant strangers made.
Which yet remain, in Britain's fenny Alban;
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Been called of certain proselytes, men which, ere-
Time, had believed, in Asia, on Jews' God;
(Being of the parts of Lycia, and of Greeks' speech;
And servants to the legion now at Aquæ:)
To teach to them, that way of the New Life.
And, when had, of the Lord, enquired and prayed,
Christ's little Church; they devout hands, all laid,
On Simon's son: and sent that man of God,
Amongst the strangers forth, to pasture souls.
He, at year's end, síth, to Calleva passed;
And thence to new-built Roman Troynovant,
In the mutation of the garrison cohorts.
He sojourned there in hall, fast by Thames' side;
For the receipt of merchant strangers made.
What day that fury of Britons' new revolt,
Approached, he would his ministering not forslake,
To sick poor folk; but all which might not 'scape,
He caused them, in that hall, to be conveyed.
Though cry of foes, fire, slaughter, in the town;
Which dures long dreadful forth, he preacheth Christ!
Approached, he would his ministering not forslake,
To sick poor folk; but all which might not 'scape,
He caused them, in that hall, to be conveyed.
Though cry of foes, fire, slaughter, in the town;
Which dures long dreadful forth, he preacheth Christ!
Is last loud hasting tread of hostile feet,
Come to their gate; whereon now yelling smite,
With weapons and with stones, fierce glast-stained wights!
The imposts those do heave, with dreadful threat!
Strong Alexander, set to door his back;
Somewhile, alone, that immense poise, sustains!
But, in the end, blood-stained blue men in-brake:
Which, ah! the saint, mongst many strangers, pierced;
He trampled under, meekly yieldeth breath.
But joys, upmounting, as the lark, his spirit,
To heaven's gate; whérein, now, he rests, with Christ.
Come to their gate; whereon now yelling smite,
With weapons and with stones, fierce glast-stained wights!
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Strong Alexander, set to door his back;
Somewhile, alone, that immense poise, sustains!
But, in the end, blood-stained blue men in-brake:
Which, ah! the saint, mongst many strangers, pierced;
He trampled under, meekly yieldeth breath.
But joys, upmounting, as the lark, his spirit,
To heaven's gate; whérein, now, he rests, with Christ.
Is marched, on new paved way, of thirty milestones,
Boudicca forth, which to New Verulam leads,
By Cassio forest. Follows, with the queen,
Dread rushing host of glast and gore-stained Britons!
In whose most hands, be seen now Roman arms.
Boudicca forth, which to New Verulam leads,
By Cassio forest. Follows, with the queen,
Dread rushing host of glast and gore-stained Britons!
In whose most hands, be seen now Roman arms.
Blue Britons passed, with confused dreadful shouts;
That should affray the enemies' very gods!
Ver fords; behold the gates stand open wide,
Of Roman city. Britons risen, to-night,
Which therein dwell; had slain the Roman cohorts!
That should affray the enemies' very gods!
Ver fords; behold the gates stand open wide,
Of Roman city. Britons risen, to-night,
Which therein dwell; had slain the Roman cohorts!
Boudicca queen, rides through that towered great port;
Whom follow fast, to Verulam's market-place,
Thick-thronging folk; which acclaim, with one voice,
In royal city of great Cunobelin,
Her Lady-of-war, o'er all blue tribes of Britain!
Druids pronounce, The gods have chosen her.
Whom follow fast, to Verulam's market-place,
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In royal city of great Cunobelin,
Her Lady-of-war, o'er all blue tribes of Britain!
Druids pronounce, The gods have chosen her.
Mongst press of Britons armed, behold Boudicca,
In battle-cart, stands leaning on bright spear,
Semblant divine! Be her great lofty looks,
Like unto priests', which converse with the gods!
Her warlike limbs, clothes party-coloured weed,
Over her harness, fastened with broad brooch.
In battle-cart, stands leaning on bright spear,
Semblant divine! Be her great lofty looks,
Like unto priests', which converse with the gods!
Her warlike limbs, clothes party-coloured weed,
Over her harness, fastened with broad brooch.
Who princes, gird her, lo, with golden belt;
To be grand captain of East Britons' wars:
Which, when she had received, she feels new force,
Infused in all her veins. Her span-wide front,
A royal chapelet tires, of beaten gold,
The leaves; whence her long swart hairs, in a tress,
Arm-great, hang from her nape. Hark, to her folk,
Cries, with loud manlike voice, dissonant sounds,
Boudicca, queen, of unrequited wrongs!
To Britons' glast-stained throngs, cries; she, to-night,
Beheld sure vision of the blesséd gods;
Which show; victorious still should be her arms;
That have already, in field, o'erthrown a legion;
And taken three Roman cities, and them burned.
And perished, in each one, ten thousand souls!
To be grand captain of East Britons' wars:
Which, when she had received, she feels new force,
Infused in all her veins. Her span-wide front,
A royal chapelet tires, of beaten gold,
The leaves; whence her long swart hairs, in a tress,
Arm-great, hang from her nape. Hark, to her folk,
Cries, with loud manlike voice, dissonant sounds,
Boudicca, queen, of unrequited wrongs!
To Britons' glast-stained throngs, cries; she, to-night,
Beheld sure vision of the blesséd gods;
Which show; victorious still should be her arms;
That have already, in field, o'erthrown a legion;
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And perished, in each one, ten thousand souls!
Moreo'er, do promise gods, to give, these days,
Into her hands, Suetonius, Cæsar's legate;
Whence should be ransomed home Caratacus.
Nor turn their beaks, shall Cæsars, any more,
To Britain's cliffs. Recording then her harms;
The widow-queen, with flaming pupils, cries,
That, Sooner should the clodded field remove,
Flit as a cloud, than may her soul have rest;
Till she last vengeance have of abhorred Romans;
Till mark her borders their unburied bones.
Britons! shall, by your virtue, be preserved,
Unwemmed, your children; and chaste wives, unstained.
This said, with loud harsh voice, the Icenian queen,
Sudden! drew lightning brand of Prasutagos.
Into her hands, Suetonius, Cæsar's legate;
Whence should be ransomed home Caratacus.
Nor turn their beaks, shall Cæsars, any more,
To Britain's cliffs. Recording then her harms;
The widow-queen, with flaming pupils, cries,
That, Sooner should the clodded field remove,
Flit as a cloud, than may her soul have rest;
Till she last vengeance have of abhorred Romans;
Till mark her borders their unburied bones.
Britons! shall, by your virtue, be preserved,
Unwemmed, your children; and chaste wives, unstained.
This said, with loud harsh voice, the Icenian queen,
Sudden! drew lightning brand of Prasutagos.
Lifting the white-armed royal Britoness,
That her bright steel, to woad-stained Camulus;
She prayed him, Hurl from Britain's white cliffs, Romans!
Her Coritavian kindred march to her,
Caterfs likewise, she cries, that gathered were,
To the Two-Avons' camps. Tidings, more o'er,
She last night, hath, by sign of beacon-fires,
Received; how further Britons, whom Venutios
Leads hastily, in her aid, already approach.
These should o'erthrow last remnant of Rome's legions!
That her bright steel, to woad-stained Camulus;
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Her Coritavian kindred march to her,
Caterfs likewise, she cries, that gathered were,
To the Two-Avons' camps. Tidings, more o'er,
She last night, hath, by sign of beacon-fires,
Received; how further Britons, whom Venutios
Leads hastily, in her aid, already approach.
These should o'erthrow last remnant of Rome's legions!
Long shout they all! Then sheathed the warlike queen
Sheen glaive: and ready in battle-cart, anon,
The supple reins on necks of her proud steeds,
Shakes; that desirous of the way rush forth!
Follow Boudicca, not few wives, in wains,
To see that victory is promised of their gods!
With her, march blue loud-voiced war-multitude.
Sheen glaive: and ready in battle-cart, anon,
The supple reins on necks of her proud steeds,
Shakes; that desirous of the way rush forth!
Follow Boudicca, not few wives, in wains,
To see that victory is promised of their gods!
With her, march blue loud-voiced war-multitude.
Boudicca, next day, enters in East-forest;
Which joins to Epping-chace. Thus with Venutios,
Master of war, she hopes the sooner meet.
Now in border of that wold, Boudicca's host,
Do lodge, in champaign place: and when night falls,
They see far flames, of often beacon-fires;
Message of glast-stained nations, that approach.
Which joins to Epping-chace. Thus with Venutios,
Master of war, she hopes the sooner meet.
Now in border of that wold, Boudicca's host,
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They see far flames, of often beacon-fires;
Message of glast-stained nations, that approach.
Her destiny here, in idle camp, the queen
Detains; who her war-journeys should have hasted,
Till joined were, to her great tumultuous host,
Mid-Britons; whom not Romans, yet, of arms,
Deprived; and foot and horse, which leads Venutios.
Detains; who her war-journeys should have hasted,
Till joined were, to her great tumultuous host,
Mid-Britons; whom not Romans, yet, of arms,
Deprived; and foot and horse, which leads Venutios.
Behold, in this extremity Cæsar's legate,
Marching from Mona! He hath fifteen cohorts,
Besides vexillaries of the twentieth legion,
Five hundred veterans, and twelve troops of horse.
And like as falcon, holds wide aery skies,
Nor cures all lesser fowl; so duke Suetonius
By marches speeds, now hostile all to Romans.
Marching from Mona! He hath fifteen cohorts,
Besides vexillaries of the twentieth legion,
Five hundred veterans, and twelve troops of horse.
And like as falcon, holds wide aery skies,
Nor cures all lesser fowl; so duke Suetonius
By marches speeds, now hostile all to Romans.
Lo, Cæsar's legate, after seventeen camps;
In twilight of clear stars, halts in strong place;
For, little ere, wide-burning Briton watchfires,
Have seen his scouts to flame, beyond the forest.
In twilight of clear stars, halts in strong place;
For, little ere, wide-burning Briton watchfires,
Have seen his scouts to flame, beyond the forest.
At day, is erst descried the Roman vallum!
Then blow commands, Boudicca, battle-note.
Clad in fringed tunic, broidered, like spring mead,
Whereon sewn glittering scales of tin and brass;
She stands, whom girds that belt-of-strength; and shines,
On her large bosom, mirror ornament,
Like to a sun: her morion is leaf-crowned.
Then blow commands, Boudicca, battle-note.
Clad in fringed tunic, broidered, like spring mead,
Whereon sewn glittering scales of tin and brass;
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On her large bosom, mirror ornament,
Like to a sun: her morion is leaf-crowned.
The war-queen mounts; so drave forth, in shrill chariot!
Her milk-white arms, matchless in war, ben stained,
This day, with woad, like to the jacinth flower:
Ride, standing in one chariot, now with her,
Those daughters royal. Shrouds, ah, funeral stole,
Each high-born maid: lo, are tired both their heads,
With chapelet of oak-leaves, to warlike death!
Her milk-white arms, matchless in war, ben stained,
This day, with woad, like to the jacinth flower:
Ride, standing in one chariot, now with her,
Those daughters royal. Shrouds, ah, funeral stole,
Each high-born maid: lo, are tired both their heads,
With chapelet of oak-leaves, to warlike death!
Their cold-blue eyes look out, from golden locks,
With Britain pearls, long-broidered in a tress;
Like sunny rays, that pierce the evening clouds.
Their hands, (hang rattling quivers at their backs,)
Bear spended bows. In Prasutagos' chariot,
Then, whiles they pass, in all their people's viewing;
Made bare the betrayed maidens, their white breasts:
And laid each forth her paps, like mourning doves;
With rife plaint, them most cruelly doth wrong!
With Britain pearls, long-broidered in a tress;
Like sunny rays, that pierce the evening clouds.
Their hands, (hang rattling quivers at their backs,)
Bear spended bows. In Prasutagos' chariot,
Then, whiles they pass, in all their people's viewing;
Made bare the betrayed maidens, their white breasts:
And laid each forth her paps, like mourning doves;
With rife plaint, them most cruelly doth wrong!
Their heaven-born looks, uplifted, to war-gods;
The maidens' voices, clear as shepherds' flutes,
From lips; which like to blissful dewy roses,
Full of soft smiling happy laughter were,
In days, (before the coming-in of Romans,)
Of Britain's peace! intone, towards their deaths,
Loud battle-chant, of those which made Carvilios:
Souls'-music, seems, aloft this weary earth!
The maidens' voices, clear as shepherds' flutes,
From lips; which like to blissful dewy roses,
Full of soft smiling happy laughter were,
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Of Britain's peace! intone, towards their deaths,
Loud battle-chant, of those which made Carvilios:
Souls'-music, seems, aloft this weary earth!
The hearts, of Britons' generous youth, it pierced,
Confounded with their beauty and their wrongs!
And for had Belisama, upon their looks,
Made living ray shine; kindling love's desire,
In those, to perish with them, in one death!
The glast-stained host, long vehemently shout!
And stretch to gods their hands, accusing Romans.
Confounded with their beauty and their wrongs!
And for had Belisama, upon their looks,
Made living ray shine; kindling love's desire,
In those, to perish with them, in one death!
The glast-stained host, long vehemently shout!
And stretch to gods their hands, accusing Romans.
The queen, beholding this new-surging Sun;
To the all-bright god, her two blue-palms uplifted;
Before her glast-stained nation, sternly prayed;
He run, with speedy wheels, his day's career;
And might, soon setting, soaked, with Roman gore,
He see this field! Then showing, with her spear,
Suetonius' camp; Behold, this last of legions,
She cries; of whom none shall be left alive,
Helping our gods, to-night. And ye, which wives,
Contend, to-day, in valour and brave mind,
With men. She cried then thrice, midst her great army;
The day is come of vengeance, for our wrongs.
To the all-bright god, her two blue-palms uplifted;
Before her glast-stained nation, sternly prayed;
He run, with speedy wheels, his day's career;
And might, soon setting, soaked, with Roman gore,
He see this field! Then showing, with her spear,
Suetonius' camp; Behold, this last of legions,
She cries; of whom none shall be left alive,
Helping our gods, to-night. And ye, which wives,
Contend, to-day, in valour and brave mind,
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The day is come of vengeance, for our wrongs.
Yet spake the queen new word, mongst Britons armed;
And being one offspring of this foster-soil;
I say, stooped down, let every warrior-son,
Mould of the field, even as his mother's knees,
Kiss reverent; and her swear, defend from Romans!
And being one offspring of this foster-soil;
I say, stooped down, let every warrior-son,
Mould of the field, even as his mother's knees,
Kiss reverent; and her swear, defend from Romans!
When, on the legions' part, surveyed Suetonius
Glast-stained disordinate enemies' multitude:
He, in his heart, decreed, this day, to fight.
Britons' familiar routs, he shows his soldiers;
Blue battle-throngs, of little warlike worth;
Nor those, tumultuous, ordered in caterfs.
Whence should them easily break his warwont cohorts.
Glast-stained disordinate enemies' multitude:
He, in his heart, decreed, this day, to fight.
Britons' familiar routs, he shows his soldiers;
Blue battle-throngs, of little warlike worth;
Nor those, tumultuous, ordered in caterfs.
Whence should them easily break his warwont cohorts.
And sternly cries Suetonius, Those behold,
Soldiers, whose tumults have o'erthrown the Province:
Britons' rebellions grow, like Summer fires;
Else, were, with such, to fight, reproach for Romans!
But we to-day avenge, O Cæsar's soldiers;
Soldiers and citizens, of his wasted Province!
Soldiers, whose tumults have o'erthrown the Province:
Britons' rebellions grow, like Summer fires;
Else, were, with such, to fight, reproach for Romans!
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Soldiers and citizens, of his wasted Province!
Though long, before you, these may not endure;
Nathless, ye shall have need of all your force;
And be ye in battle, unmindful of all preys.
Let none 'scape the just vengeance of your hands,
Man, wife, nor child; and die the unborn babe!
This said, he led, from camp, his cohorts forth:
And them, in form arrayed, of phalanx deep.
Soldiers loud shout! though weary from long march.
Nathless, ye shall have need of all your force;
And be ye in battle, unmindful of all preys.
Let none 'scape the just vengeance of your hands,
Man, wife, nor child; and die the unborn babe!
This said, he led, from camp, his cohorts forth:
And them, in form arrayed, of phalanx deep.
Soldiers loud shout! though weary from long march.
Gave sign eftsoon Suetonius! and run Romans
Out, confident, ás men who, to vanquish, wont;
Careless of wounds, gainst glast-stained nighing routs:
Their only heed, hurl javelins and give death.
But falls thick sleet, on them, of Britons' darts;
Which, (sunbeams in their eyes!) they fence, uneath.
Out, confident, ás men who, to vanquish, wont;
Careless of wounds, gainst glast-stained nighing routs:
Their only heed, hurl javelins and give death.
But falls thick sleet, on them, of Britons' darts;
Which, (sunbeams in their eyes!) they fence, uneath.
Then mainly, the angry hosts, together rush.
To the heavens, rebellows hideous battle-noise,
Of the earth's children and lamenting cries!
To the heavens, rebellows hideous battle-noise,
Of the earth's children and lamenting cries!
Stands queen Boudicca, in party-coloured weed,
In cart, with glittering belt. She, Lady-of-war,
Guiding her team, leads, squadroned, those few chariots;
Which Romans only left to Prasutagos.
Her royal daughters, drawing mighty bows,
Pierce, with long fledged shafts, noblest now of Romans.
With teeth, her Briton steeds, and their fore-hooves,
And armed their panting breasts, with pikes of bronze,
Do fight gainst horsemen Gauls and Roman knights;
By whom these three queens suffered heinous wrong.
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Guiding her team, leads, squadroned, those few chariots;
Which Romans only left to Prasutagos.
Her royal daughters, drawing mighty bows,
Pierce, with long fledged shafts, noblest now of Romans.
With teeth, her Briton steeds, and their fore-hooves,
And armed their panting breasts, with pikes of bronze,
Do fight gainst horsemen Gauls and Roman knights;
By whom these three queens suffered heinous wrong.
Their quivers emptied, hurl the royal maids
Out thrilling darts, on enemies, where they pass.
Runners, light-armed, which fence the royal scythecart,
Those Romans' heads, whom slay their shot, hew-off;
And, horrid, hang, still dropping gore! their polls,
Round the queen's cart. Of them who fight thus forth
Afoot, the chiefest are three noble youth:
For when their nation lately disarmed Romans;
Those reaved their fathers' famous teams and scythecarts,
And harness spoiled and precious antique arms.
Out thrilling darts, on enemies, where they pass.
Runners, light-armed, which fence the royal scythecart,
Those Romans' heads, whom slay their shot, hew-off;
And, horrid, hang, still dropping gore! their polls,
Round the queen's cart. Of them who fight thus forth
Afoot, the chiefest are three noble youth:
For when their nation lately disarmed Romans;
Those reaved their fathers' famous teams and scythecarts,
And harness spoiled and precious antique arms.
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Yet known are, by their comely ingenuous looks,
And golden collars, Ennion, Rueydan,
(Like-minded entire friends, noble of port;
Not faint, in friends' distress, and both East Britons;)
And valorous Keduan, tall Cornavian prince.
At Taesdune, came those suitors to the queen;
In happier days of rich king Prasutagos;
Drawn of wing-footed teams, in glittering scythecarts:
Nor yet had curséd Roman Catus slain
The honour of the Icenian royal house!
And golden collars, Ennion, Rueydan,
(Like-minded entire friends, noble of port;
Not faint, in friends' distress, and both East Britons;)
And valorous Keduan, tall Cornavian prince.
At Taesdune, came those suitors to the queen;
In happier days of rich king Prasutagos;
Drawn of wing-footed teams, in glittering scythecarts:
Nor yet had curséd Roman Catus slain
The honour of the Icenian royal house!
Howbeit Gladusa, of long golden locks,
The elder, affianced, but in secret wise,
To Cathigern was; who far all noble youth,
In beauty and virtue excelled, in wide East March.
Whereof had cognizance peerless Elidore,
Her sister, only; for was Cathigern,
Of hostile kin, of Antethrigus' house.
The elder, affianced, but in secret wise,
To Cathigern was; who far all noble youth,
In beauty and virtue excelled, in wide East March.
Whereof had cognizance peerless Elidore,
Her sister, only; for was Cathigern,
Of hostile kin, of Antethrigus' house.
Ah, soon shall mount Gladusa's virgin spirit,
By fire, to heaven; nor tarry, come to her,
He; on whóm now mortal sickness falls, in Rome:
Above the stars, shall their unburied loves
Renew. Have those young lords bound, mourning token,
For maidens' wrong, their shorn heads, lo, with yew:
They cry; Gladusa and Elidore, wait for us.
We only ask, ye not prevent our deaths!
By fire, to heaven; nor tarry, come to her,
He; on whóm now mortal sickness falls, in Rome:
Above the stars, shall their unburied loves
Renew. Have those young lords bound, mourning token,
For maidens' wrong, their shorn heads, lo, with yew:
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We only ask, ye not prevent our deaths!
Who martial wives, companions of the queen;
And Prasutagos' daughters' maiden peers;
In chariots, follow fast, with loud holloa!
Of whom some sharp hooks hurl, other shield-stones,
Drawing out thongs, which lap round Romans' throats.
And as men snatch, with angles, scaly fish,
Forth; so these harnessed knights pluck down, from horse!
And Prasutagos' daughters' maiden peers;
In chariots, follow fast, with loud holloa!
Of whom some sharp hooks hurl, other shield-stones,
Drawing out thongs, which lap round Romans' throats.
And as men snatch, with angles, scaly fish,
Forth; so these harnessed knights pluck down, from horse!
Wife-men, with fury, as hawks, leaping from scythecarts,
To grass; make butchery, of fallen impious Romans.
Riving with knives and bodkins, their base breasts!
Were some, for their young lives, heard make lament;
Romans, of barbare women, to be slain!
To grass; make butchery, of fallen impious Romans.
Riving with knives and bodkins, their base breasts!
Were some, for their young lives, heard make lament;
Romans, of barbare women, to be slain!
Men, oak-leaf-crowned, in border of the field;
Whom, (brethren of the queen,) Merdewy, lead,
And Perigor; (with whom borne their manacles are,
Their chains, lo, and fetters of their feet, for ensigns!)
Slay Romans. But deep-ranked, now, legion-cohorts,
Like river's flood, which buffets with much wind,
The loose resistance and tumultuous arms,
Bear bloody aback, of the glast-stained fierce Britons:
And break well-nigh through, to their drawn-round wains;
Wherewith her camp had only fenced, the queen.
Whom, (brethren of the queen,) Merdewy, lead,
And Perigor; (with whom borne their manacles are,
Their chains, lo, and fetters of their feet, for ensigns!)
Slay Romans. But deep-ranked, now, legion-cohorts,
Like river's flood, which buffets with much wind,
The loose resistance and tumultuous arms,
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And break well-nigh through, to their drawn-round wains;
Wherewith her camp had only fenced, the queen.
Being parted thus, and pierced the island powers,
Romans bear-round, unto both parts, their ensigns!
Boudicca, (Britons hemmed thus and distressed;)
Hark! eftsoons, cries, with stern and deadly face,
To wives, on axe-trees shrill, that next her ride;
Flee women; lest ye, captives taken, were sold,
Beyond the seas, to Romans' shameful life.
This said, she incites her team, to utmost flight!
Fly chariot-women-riders, then, with her;
Whilst men-manned chariots hurl again on Romans.
Romans bear-round, unto both parts, their ensigns!
Boudicca, (Britons hemmed thus and distressed;)
Hark! eftsoons, cries, with stern and deadly face,
To wives, on axe-trees shrill, that next her ride;
Flee women; lest ye, captives taken, were sold,
Beyond the seas, to Romans' shameful life.
This said, she incites her team, to utmost flight!
Fly chariot-women-riders, then, with her;
Whilst men-manned chariots hurl again on Romans.
Lo, East-men warriors, on their faithful faces,
Them cast to ground; that o'er their bodies ride,
Where else none passage were, their Lady-of-war!
She shrieks, 'Scape! save you all to thicket woods!
So o'er dead foes and fallen friends, she drives!
Them cast to ground; that o'er their bodies ride,
Where else none passage were, their Lady-of-war!
She shrieks, 'Scape! save you all to thicket woods!
So o'er dead foes and fallen friends, she drives!
After her, then Gauls' Roman horse pursue.
Covets each knight, next to his own soul saved,
The person to take captive of this queen:
Which, helping him some god, might he achieve;
How should, blazed through the world, in trump of gold;
His name sound to the stars, in sovereign Rome!
Covets each knight, next to his own soul saved,
The person to take captive of this queen:
Which, helping him some god, might he achieve;
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His name sound to the stars, in sovereign Rome!
And Gauls had then attained Boudicca, queen,
By fleetness of tall steeds: but them swart Camulus
Frustrates, to whom, with many vows, she prayed.
Bellona him lately reft of his vast shield;
Else had he saved, this day, blue Britons' army.
Is fame, that god descended in a cloud,
Which breathed his divine steeds, Boudicca's team
Led forth; the whiles much dust a rising wind,
Lifts, twixt Gauls-Romans and the Icenian queen.
By fleetness of tall steeds: but them swart Camulus
Frustrates, to whom, with many vows, she prayed.
Bellona him lately reft of his vast shield;
Else had he saved, this day, blue Britons' army.
Is fame, that god descended in a cloud,
Which breathed his divine steeds, Boudicca's team
Led forth; the whiles much dust a rising wind,
Lifts, twixt Gauls-Romans and the Icenian queen.
Came Roman slaughter, to the four-wheel wains,
Whence Britons' warlike wives hurl darts on soldiers;
Aye, and aught that cometh ready to their hands;
Fighting, from thill-boards, as wont men in chariots.
They yell forth imprecations dire, on Romans!
Whence Britons' warlike wives hurl darts on soldiers;
Aye, and aught that cometh ready to their hands;
Fighting, from thill-boards, as wont men in chariots.
They yell forth imprecations dire, on Romans!
Short their death-strife was; for, as birds which pierced,
Of shafts, they ruin thrilled, by Roman darts:
And, at the cart-wheels, fell their little ones.
Nor spared the Italic gall them pierce to death;
And fling down, dying, breathless carcases!
Lest grown to manhood those, in warlike arms;
Should wreak, another day, their parents' wrongs.
Gored even that Roman fury their yoke-beasts.
Of shafts, they ruin thrilled, by Roman darts:
And, at the cart-wheels, fell their little ones.
Nor spared the Italic gall them pierce to death;
And fling down, dying, breathless carcases!
Lest grown to manhood those, in warlike arms;
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Gored even that Roman fury their yoke-beasts.
Helped of strong god, Boudicca outwent pursuit,
And warlike wives with her. Digol and Eorth,
Be with the hirds, league's-way from Britons' camp;
That keep the neat and swine, and those great flocks;
Which were for victual of East Britons' host.
Breast forth their oxen slowly, in valley-path.
And warlike wives with her. Digol and Eorth,
Be with the hirds, league's-way from Britons' camp;
That keep the neat and swine, and those great flocks;
Which were for victual of East Britons' host.
Breast forth their oxen slowly, in valley-path.
Cometh mainly driving, by that way, the queen,
With women's war-carts, to escape from Romans;
Which newly follow, eager, on her trace.
Those hirds, the queen, loud hailing! range their droves.
By, hastily, with few words, Boudicca passeth;
Like to a rushing wind, leaving men marvelling!
With women's war-carts, to escape from Romans;
Which newly follow, eager, on her trace.
Those hirds, the queen, loud hailing! range their droves.
By, hastily, with few words, Boudicca passeth;
Like to a rushing wind, leaving men marvelling!
Those hinds then seeing, pursuit of glittering Romans,
To horse; Digol, with spear and targe, stood forth,
Amidst the way; but erst, with robust fist,
Pluckt to him bramble-spray, for, in that place,
None oak-leaves were; dight with the thorny fret,
His vehement brows. Likewise, do all the hinds,
Which deem is come the day now of their deaths.
To horse; Digol, with spear and targe, stood forth,
Amidst the way; but erst, with robust fist,
Pluckt to him bramble-spray, for, in that place,
None oak-leaves were; dight with the thorny fret,
His vehement brows. Likewise, do all the hinds,
Which deem is come the day now of their deaths.
Gauls, loud-hooved squadrons, yelling, gainst them, ride,
With levelled spears! Contemn those, few hedge-folk;
Are armed, with bats, whose most ignoble hands,
And few with glaives. But, to the midst, these chace
A stubborn press of sharp-horned beasts, gainst Romans.
Wherethrough, Gauls' horsemen struggling; the stout hinds
Fall, at advantage, on them with rude arms:
Whose heavy hands then seemed resistless bronze;
That slay, that beat Gauls, mainly, from their steeds.
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Are armed, with bats, whose most ignoble hands,
And few with glaives. But, to the midst, these chace
A stubborn press of sharp-horned beasts, gainst Romans.
Wherethrough, Gauls' horsemen struggling; the stout hinds
Fall, at advantage, on them with rude arms:
Whose heavy hands then seemed resistless bronze;
That slay, that beat Gauls, mainly, from their steeds.
This strife dures, whilst the battle-queen 'scapes forth.
Fight, with their horned heads, Britons' beasts gainst Romans.
But when, at afternoon, fell Digol pierced;
And the most herdfolk, three-score wighty men,
With Eorth, were slain; the rest are overborne.
Fight, with their horned heads, Britons' beasts gainst Romans.
But when, at afternoon, fell Digol pierced;
And the most herdfolk, three-score wighty men,
With Eorth, were slain; the rest are overborne.
Fled-on Boudicca queen, and wives, till eve;
When, what for pathless, dim, uncertain place,
They last must light, and gone forth, on their feet,
Unwitting then, they entered sacred grove:
Known to Boudicca it is, in her own March!
Which hard to ween, is easy for the gods:
And there a well and altar-stone of druids.
When, what for pathless, dim, uncertain place,
They last must light, and gone forth, on their feet,
Unwitting then, they entered sacred grove:
Known to Boudicca it is, in her own March!
Which hard to ween, is easy for the gods:
And there a well and altar-stone of druids.
Ere day, few more 'scaped, chariots and war-teams,
Following Boudicca's trace; raught to this grove.
The queen, leaned to an yew tree, weary slumbers:
She, at sound, starts, of their voices from short rest!
But when what multitude of Icenians perished,
Boudicca hears; and at the four-wheel wains,
The mothers stricken; and how, from battle-chariot,
Merdewy and Perigor, Prasutagos' brethren,
After great deeds, fell mongst their oak-leaved warriors,
Under Gauls' rushing spears! the queen despairs.
Feigning then some war-sacrifice, here, she hath,
She servants sends, in moonshine, out for wood.
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The queen, leaned to an yew tree, weary slumbers:
She, at sound, starts, of their voices from short rest!
But when what multitude of Icenians perished,
Boudicca hears; and at the four-wheel wains,
The mothers stricken; and how, from battle-chariot,
Merdewy and Perigor, Prasutagos' brethren,
After great deeds, fell mongst their oak-leaved warriors,
Under Gauls' rushing spears! the queen despairs.
Feigning then some war-sacrifice, here, she hath,
She servants sends, in moonshine, out for wood.
Lo, those, with thraves, return, when daylight grows;
Whereof, in order, laid, at the queen's word,
Halm and sere boughs; wide-builded is high pyre.
And this full-ended; will the widow-queen,
And daughters royal, burn, thereon, with her,
Their wrongéd flesh; and thence, to heaven, upmount;
To intercede for Britons, with the gods!
Whereof, in order, laid, at the queen's word,
Halm and sere boughs; wide-builded is high pyre.
And this full-ended; will the widow-queen,
And daughters royal, burn, thereon, with her,
Their wrongéd flesh; and thence, to heaven, upmount;
To intercede for Britons, with the gods!
Now soars the sun, ascend those royal maids:
But tiding yet Boudicca waits; who sends
Out other faithful messengers, through green grove;
To watch all glades; whence they, with instant shout,
Might signify approach of any Romans.
But tiding yet Boudicca waits; who sends
Out other faithful messengers, through green grove;
To watch all glades; whence they, with instant shout,
Might signify approach of any Romans.
Of kex and yew, which, o'er the queen, spreads forth
His sacred arms, to everliving gods;
The royal mother cup prepared to-night;
Whereof who sups, eftsoons, forgetful sleeps;
And cometh, anon, dull death, without sore smart.
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The royal mother cup prepared to-night;
Whereof who sups, eftsoons, forgetful sleeps;
And cometh, anon, dull death, without sore smart.
Now voided all men being forth, from view;
Their harness doffed, them spoil the royal maids,
Of over-weed. And each the mother kissed;
When, from her hands, they both receive that cup.
Yet, ere they drink, each sister sister kisseth,
With twining, long, dear last, tear-bathed, embrace!
The innocent souls, that meet upon their lips,
(And are they twins,) now ready to flit forth.
Their harness doffed, them spoil the royal maids,
Of over-weed. And each the mother kissed;
When, from her hands, they both receive that cup.
Yet, ere they drink, each sister sister kisseth,
With twining, long, dear last, tear-bathed, embrace!
The innocent souls, that meet upon their lips,
(And are they twins,) now ready to flit forth.
Looks the elder, on broad glory of this new sun;
And sighing, stedfast, to her lips, approached
The cup; so drinks! and sith the younger drinks.
Then laid they twain, holding each other's hands,
Them down, soft murmuring prayer, to gods of death;
To guide their souls, to place of happy rest!
And sighing, stedfast, to her lips, approached
The cup; so drinks! and sith the younger drinks.
Then laid they twain, holding each other's hands,
Them down, soft murmuring prayer, to gods of death;
To guide their souls, to place of happy rest!
But, yet, the queen of Britons not upmounts.
For safety of her East Britons, yet consults
Boudicca, Lady-of-war. The golden belt
Deposed from her; and raised then funeral chant,
She last upclimbs, on that heaped fatal wood:
So sate her down, midst her dear dying ones.
She, upleaned on spear, yet looketh, from funeral bed,
About, around! so kisseth each swooning child.
For safety of her East Britons, yet consults
Boudicca, Lady-of-war. The golden belt
Deposed from her; and raised then funeral chant,
She last upclimbs, on that heaped fatal wood:
So sate her down, midst her dear dying ones.
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About, around! so kisseth each swooning child.
But heard then coming shouted of some Romans;
Erst little pouring, to swart gods, beneath;
She tarries not, that deadly cup drink-out!
Yet spake last word the queen, with constant face;
Ye, which shall live, haste save you in thick woods!
Erst little pouring, to swart gods, beneath;
She tarries not, that deadly cup drink-out!
Yet spake last word the queen, with constant face;
Ye, which shall live, haste save you in thick woods!
Rise hardly, at that new voice, upon the pyre,
The royal maids! for not yet dead they were;
Like drooping flowers, that sun of afternoon
Hath stricken, they stoop: they muse, whilst dulls their sense
The cup, the people's cry to hear! Sate up,
Each dimly, on other, casting looks of love;
Drawn their sharp girdle-knives, their innocent breasts
Do launch, at once. So covered each her feet,
With broidered weed; and sinks each down, in death.
The royal maids! for not yet dead they were;
Like drooping flowers, that sun of afternoon
Hath stricken, they stoop: they muse, whilst dulls their sense
The cup, the people's cry to hear! Sate up,
Each dimly, on other, casting looks of love;
Drawn their sharp girdle-knives, their innocent breasts
Do launch, at once. So covered each her feet,
With broidered weed; and sinks each down, in death.
Boudicca queen then fell forth, on her dart!
Down to her knees, there rails, ah! purple well;
And like to swan, which pierced hath hunter's shaft,
Neath the left wing, she fails: yet groans, Put fire!
So twixt, behold, her bleeding daughters, both,
Boudicca lies, ah, now, in throes of death!
Down to her knees, there rails, ah! purple well;
And like to swan, which pierced hath hunter's shaft,
Neath the left wing, she fails: yet groans, Put fire!
So twixt, behold, her bleeding daughters, both,
Boudicca lies, ah, now, in throes of death!
Two ancient women, keepers of that grove,
Have kindled sparks; which, twixt their withered hands,
Blown, they put-to. Ascend then writhing tongues,
Of crackling flames; and roars dawn's rising wind.
And some report, died presently the war-queen;
Other, rose up Boudicca, from the pyre;
Looked with fierce eyes, and saw approaching Romans!
And seemed the three queens' bodies heave, alwere
They dead; and wreathe, as holly, in herdman's fire;
At coming of the Romans' duke Suetonius.
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Blown, they put-to. Ascend then writhing tongues,
Of crackling flames; and roars dawn's rising wind.
And some report, died presently the war-queen;
Other, rose up Boudicca, from the pyre;
Looked with fierce eyes, and saw approaching Romans!
And seemed the three queens' bodies heave, alwere
They dead; and wreathe, as holly, in herdman's fire;
At coming of the Romans' duke Suetonius.
High ride the flames, now giddy bowering wave;
Which licks, with golden throat, the Summer woods,
Surging to heaven; wherein ascend their spirits,
Like unto like: whence now, immortal pure,
They look from stars. Fell, from those funeral flames,
A golden mist; which token is, from high gods,
Of their unending glory to endure.
Which licks, with golden throat, the Summer woods,
Surging to heaven; wherein ascend their spirits,
Like unto like: whence now, immortal pure,
They look from stars. Fell, from those funeral flames,
A golden mist; which token is, from high gods,
Of their unending glory to endure.
But ridden Suetonius, from far field of fight;
With guides and last pursuit of Gaulish horse,
By the moon's lamp, hath reached to this green place.
And find, therein remained, those weary Romans,
Alone, of Britons, two poor women-wights;
Which wallow on swart mould, beating their dugs,
Before a burning pyre, and dreary shrieks,
Cast forth; that even those enemies rue to hear!
With guides and last pursuit of Gaulish horse,
By the moon's lamp, hath reached to this green place.
And find, therein remained, those weary Romans,
Alone, of Britons, two poor women-wights;
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Before a burning pyre, and dreary shrieks,
Cast forth; that even those enemies rue to hear!
They deem, that one was nurse to Britons' queen;
And this was foster, of her daughters twain;
Whose breath, now ceased, these sacred flames consume.
And the enemies do their constant faith admire.
And this was foster, of her daughters twain;
Whose breath, now ceased, these sacred flames consume.
And the enemies do their constant faith admire.
Now and when the duke, through his interpreter,
Hears, of their trembling lips, this careful case;
Abhors the Roman's proud ingenuous thought,
Him who distained, destroyed, betrayed, the house
Of Prasutagos, friend erewhile to Romans.
To Rome, he will write letters of all this;
His procurator, Catus Decianus,
Cause of so great destruction of his Province,
Accusing, unto Cæsar, and the Senate.
(Catus, from Britain fled, Kent seas hath passed!)
Hears, of their trembling lips, this careful case;
Abhors the Roman's proud ingenuous thought,
Him who distained, destroyed, betrayed, the house
Of Prasutagos, friend erewhile to Romans.
To Rome, he will write letters of all this;
His procurator, Catus Decianus,
Cause of so great destruction of his Province,
Accusing, unto Cæsar, and the Senate.
(Catus, from Britain fled, Kent seas hath passed!)
Still, sitting on his horse, a bill Suetonius
Writeth, with his own hand, in Roman tongue;
For the safe-conduct, praising much their faith,
Of these poor women, Britons. He that scroll,
To them-unwilling, gives; wherein he warns
All men, and he, in Cæsar's name, commands;
Unto whom this script might come; suffer to pass,
By the paved ways, these women freely forth,
Bearing the ashes of their royal dead;
Until they come to Prasutagos' tomb.
Writeth, with his own hand, in Roman tongue;
For the safe-conduct, praising much their faith,
Of these poor women, Britons. He that scroll,
To them-unwilling, gives; wherein he warns
All men, and he, in Cæsar's name, commands;
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By the paved ways, these women freely forth,
Bearing the ashes of their royal dead;
Until they come to Prasutagos' tomb.
Quoth then Suetonius; how him liever were
Have saved Boudicca, than have vanquished her!
Collar of gold, which fell down from the pyre,
From her white bones; he takes up, to send Cæsar.
Likewise, two frets of pearls, slackt by the fire;
Of Prasutagos' wrongéd daughters fair.
(Had, in the sacred well, already cast
Those faithful Briton wives, the war-queen's belt;
That might it thus be saved, from impious Romans!)
Have saved Boudicca, than have vanquished her!
Collar of gold, which fell down from the pyre,
From her white bones; he takes up, to send Cæsar.
Likewise, two frets of pearls, slackt by the fire;
Of Prasutagos' wrongéd daughters fair.
(Had, in the sacred well, already cast
Those faithful Briton wives, the war-queen's belt;
That might it thus be saved, from impious Romans!)
Returned Suetonius, to burned Troynovant;
He pardon, for the Britons' late revolt,
(Whose root was the only avarice of cursed Catus,)
Proclaims: (and this prescribes Cæsar's new edict,)
To all, which, within certain days, (set forth;)
Shall to the clemency them submit, of Nero.
And this the rather, in that, now, new famine,
Travails the Isle: for their prophetic druids,
Fondly persuading, they should eat this year,
The Romans' victual, Britons reaped not down
Their harvest corn; and follows pestilence!
He pardon, for the Britons' late revolt,
(Whose root was the only avarice of cursed Catus,)
Proclaims: (and this prescribes Cæsar's new edict,)
To all, which, within certain days, (set forth;)
Shall to the clemency them submit, of Nero.
And this the rather, in that, now, new famine,
Travails the Isle: for their prophetic druids,
Fondly persuading, they should eat this year,
The Romans' victual, Britons reaped not down
Their harvest corn; and follows pestilence!
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Of fair Duffreynt, war-wasted wide, these days;
Much people hunger-starved, to Avalon holms,
Wander, whereas is bread, they hear, which sends
A god. Remembered the Lord's voice, His saints,
Gone forth, lead sick ones in and harbourless;
And succour who fall fainting, in nigh paths.
Much people hunger-starved, to Avalon holms,
Wander, whereas is bread, they hear, which sends
A god. Remembered the Lord's voice, His saints,
Gone forth, lead sick ones in and harbourless;
And succour who fall fainting, in nigh paths.
Where, in Caer Bran's spring-camp, erewhile, dwelt Titus,
One Auleius Verus now his villa hath,
Præfect, of knightly estate, of thousand horse.
Verus, withdrawn from Aquæ, in Summer season,
His leisure sooner would, mongst poor herdfolk,
Man of the antique mind, in Mendip, pass;
Than dwell, midst surfeiting new Nero's Romans.
One Auleius Verus now his villa hath,
Præfect, of knightly estate, of thousand horse.
Verus, withdrawn from Aquæ, in Summer season,
His leisure sooner would, mongst poor herdfolk,
Man of the antique mind, in Mendip, pass;
Than dwell, midst surfeiting new Nero's Romans.
Pudens,
his son, wars, mongst young Roman knights:
And lately, in Mona, fighting in sea-ford,
(Where manly he slew his foe,) sore wounded was.
But when had hastily marched, from thence, Suetonius;
Pudens, within a tower, (of those Ostorius
Had built, by fords, and certain passages;
And garrisoned, with two maniples, each, of soldiers;)
Was left, with other sick. They there beset,
Eftsoon, of raging Britons, endured siege.
And daily heard their land-cries, (dreadful sound,
In Latin ears!) as, Camuloudnum taken!
Cut-off, to the last soldier, Roman legion!
Londinium burns; were all within her, slain!
Boudicca this day entered, Verulamion!
And lately, in Mona, fighting in sea-ford,
(Where manly he slew his foe,) sore wounded was.
But when had hastily marched, from thence, Suetonius;
Pudens, within a tower, (of those Ostorius
Had built, by fords, and certain passages;
And garrisoned, with two maniples, each, of soldiers;)
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Eftsoon, of raging Britons, endured siege.
And daily heard their land-cries, (dreadful sound,
In Latin ears!) as, Camuloudnum taken!
Cut-off, to the last soldier, Roman legion!
Londinium burns; were all within her, slain!
Boudicca this day entered, Verulamion!
Is keeper of that hold, one Felix Murcius,
Primipilaris; than whom no man hath
More collars, bracelets, martial ornaments,
And crowns, gifts of his dukes, in many wars;
And who, now twenty years, hath served in arms:
In Aquæ, lately, he, (Galatians both,)
Found Pistos; through whose word, of that New Life;
Felix believed, on the Lord Jesus Christ.
Primipilaris; than whom no man hath
More collars, bracelets, martial ornaments,
And crowns, gifts of his dukes, in many wars;
And who, now twenty years, hath served in arms:
In Aquæ, lately, he, (Galatians both,)
Found Pistos; through whose word, of that New Life;
Felix believed, on the Lord Jesus Christ.
Sith, like a rising dawn, that heavenly hope
Lightens the soldier's breast. The young knight Auleius,
Oft Felix hears, in his long languishment,
Communing of these things: though day and night
He painful be, in his committed trust,
Felix finds breathing-whiles, to serve the sick.
Lightens the soldier's breast. The young knight Auleius,
Oft Felix hears, in his long languishment,
Communing of these things: though day and night
He painful be, in his committed trust,
Felix finds breathing-whiles, to serve the sick.
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Yester, great battle lost, nigh Verulamion!
Wherein are fallen the most part of Easthost!
Sith voice was shouted, of Boudicca's death!
Then turned their late victorious songs to wailing:
Rose great lament of Britons! Quenched their watchfires,
Blue warriors, at day-star, that siege forsake.
When passed a month, come cohorts; which relieve
The towers, with men and victual. Journey, hence,
With them, the sick; and mongst them Felix rides,
Emeritus, for his covenant now is out.
They march forth in the new paved way, towards Aquæ.
The towers, with men and victual. Journey, hence,
With them, the sick; and mongst them Felix rides,
Emeritus, for his covenant now is out.
They march forth in the new paved way, towards Aquæ.
Pudens, yet languishing, Felix further brought,
(The young knight is spear-wounded, in the breast,)
To Caer Bran villa; where he gins revive.
Auleius, recalled his father finds, to Rome;
To witness, in the cause of accused Catus.
There shortly of a flux, in time descended,
Of greatest Summer-heat, from the cold Alps,
Deceased good Verus. Pudens, the next month,
Received hath letters, of his father's death.
(The young knight is spear-wounded, in the breast,)
To Caer Bran villa; where he gins revive.
Auleius, recalled his father finds, to Rome;
To witness, in the cause of accused Catus.
There shortly of a flux, in time descended,
Of greatest Summer-heat, from the cold Alps,
Deceased good Verus. Pudens, the next month,
Received hath letters, of his father's death.
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Soon after this, by Mendip, Pistos passed.
(Interpreter now, in both the tongues, for Christ;
Is he, mongst who few strangers, in these coasts,
Are of the house of faith.) He, brother Murcius
Finds; by whom being constrained, at Caer Bran, Pistos,
That day, abode, in Verus' Roman house:
Where also, certain bondfolk have received
The Word; whose life, henceforth, is Jesus Christ!
(Interpreter now, in both the tongues, for Christ;
Is he, mongst who few strangers, in these coasts,
Are of the house of faith.) He, brother Murcius
Finds; by whom being constrained, at Caer Bran, Pistos,
That day, abode, in Verus' Roman house:
Where also, certain bondfolk have received
The Word; whose life, henceforth, is Jesus Christ!
Pudens yet lying, feeble of his hurt;
Pistos persuades, send for the stranger Joseph,
In Alban dwells, whose face as morning light!
And who an healing gift hath, of the Christ;
When, on the sick, he lays his prayer-worn hands.
Pistos persuades, send for the stranger Joseph,
In Alban dwells, whose face as morning light!
And who an healing gift hath, of the Christ;
When, on the sick, he lays his prayer-worn hands.
With Pistos, on the morrow, Felix wends:
And, come to Avalon, tarries with the saints,
There, certain days; wherein, more fully, is Felix
Of them instructed, in the things of God.
He parting thence, received a salve of Joseph.
This Felix brought, with devout prayer of faith,
To the young knight, in his hill-house, in Mendip:
And he, the third day, (cleansed his wound and closed,)
Is risen, behold, from bed of languishment!
And, come to Avalon, tarries with the saints,
There, certain days; wherein, more fully, is Felix
Of them instructed, in the things of God.
He parting thence, received a salve of Joseph.
This Felix brought, with devout prayer of faith,
To the young knight, in his hill-house, in Mendip:
And he, the third day, (cleansed his wound and closed,)
Is risen, behold, from bed of languishment!
Come sith that month, when springs the tender green,
Pudens, with Felix, rides to visit Joseph.
How sweet the Spring-tide, in far island-Britain,
When soars the heavenly lark, with merry throat!
Descended now, they much deep way mote pass:
Sith, partly wading, come up to Isle Avalon.
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How sweet the Spring-tide, in far island-Britain,
When soars the heavenly lark, with merry throat!
Descended now, they much deep way mote pass:
Sith, partly wading, come up to Isle Avalon.
Felix brings Pudens then, to bowers and hall;
Which timbered ere Phœnician Ithobal:
Where, they alighting, cometh forth agéd Joseph;
Who them salutes, with Peace, in name of Christ!
They enter in the Syrians' hall, and rest.
Which timbered ere Phœnician Ithobal:
Where, they alighting, cometh forth agéd Joseph;
Who them salutes, with Peace, in name of Christ!
They enter in the Syrians' hall, and rest.
The stranger shipwrecked brethren come, gainst eve,
In, one by one; men clad in blanket weed,
Featured like Syrians, bearded are as Greeks.
And each quoth, Peace of God, in Jesus Christ!
In, one by one; men clad in blanket weed,
Featured like Syrians, bearded are as Greeks.
And each quoth, Peace of God, in Jesus Christ!
Now when the timely hour, bringeth Sabra and Salema,
In dish; and, lo, they all, in giving thanks,
Do sit around: and fishes of the lake,
And loaves, with honey of wild bees, do eat.
And, after meat, an holy hymn they sing.
In dish; and, lo, they all, in giving thanks,
Do sit around: and fishes of the lake,
And loaves, with honey of wild bees, do eat.
And, after meat, an holy hymn they sing.
Sith, in the Britons' speech, which he, in Mendip,
Learned of his servants, communes Roman Auleius;
And partly in Latin tongue, (interprets Felix,)
With Syrian Joseph. He the father asks,
In whom found virtue of High healing God;
What end foresees he, of the wars in Britain?
Learned of his servants, communes Roman Auleius;
And partly in Latin tongue, (interprets Felix,)
With Syrian Joseph. He the father asks,
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What end foresees he, of the wars in Britain?
Joseph took, from his bosom, then a roll
Of the prophetic Scriptures: and reads words,
Declaring, o'er all nations, must prevail,
Until fulfilled her time, the Power of Rome;
When should, the last, another kingdom, rise.
Of the prophetic Scriptures: and reads words,
Declaring, o'er all nations, must prevail,
Until fulfilled her time, the Power of Rome;
When should, the last, another kingdom, rise.
Heavy with years, and ailing in his knees,
Joseph no more departs, from Avalon's mere;
Where dwell those shipwrecked saints, mongst outlaws poor;
As stewards of the heavenly Providence.
Night fallen, beside the hearth, now Romans rest,
Under poor roof-tree of the Syrian Joseph.
Joseph no more departs, from Avalon's mere;
Where dwell those shipwrecked saints, mongst outlaws poor;
As stewards of the heavenly Providence.
Night fallen, beside the hearth, now Romans rest,
Under poor roof-tree of the Syrian Joseph.
Pudens wakes, on the morrow, as from dream
Of wonderful, of joyous healing light;
Whence he will, that day o'er, dwell with good Joseph.
He, with the sun, walks forth, in Avalon fields:
Till, being yet feeble, last, he weary is.
So sits to rest, awhile, on this green grass.
Of wonderful, of joyous healing light;
Whence he will, that day o'er, dwell with good Joseph.
He, with the sun, walks forth, in Avalon fields:
Till, being yet feeble, last, he weary is.
So sits to rest, awhile, on this green grass.
Come hither trooping lamb-flocks of the Britons;
And maidens, carolling, lo, before them trace.
He a virgin, mongst them, spies; much like a vision
Or one of the inhabiters of heaven!
Anon, like guileful hunter, Roman Auleius,
Her to behold, him couched in thicket bush.
And maidens, carolling, lo, before them trace.
He a virgin, mongst them, spies; much like a vision
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Anon, like guileful hunter, Roman Auleius,
Her to behold, him couched in thicket bush.
Chief of the shepherd-daughters of the fen;
Like gracious lily, in some thorny wood,
Is this, that wends and gathers herbs and flowers!
He deems it her, (which nymph of that fair mead,
Or goddess seems!) of whom runs voice mongst Britons:
That daughter named is of the stranger Joseph,
Howbeit her father perished in the war.
Like gracious lily, in some thorny wood,
Is this, that wends and gathers herbs and flowers!
He deems it her, (which nymph of that fair mead,
Or goddess seems!) of whom runs voice mongst Britons:
That daughter named is of the stranger Joseph,
Howbeit her father perished in the war.
As wont the dewy flowers, at Summer's dawn,
Unfold, with parfume, gainst the light divine,
So her dear aspect, entering through his eyes,
With subtle influence, ere might Pudens find
Defence, his heart transmues, sublimes his being.
Then flows the blood, in a delicious tide;
With high aspiring, frail, quick, confuse thought;
As when spread riotous leaves' green multitude,
On some fat ground; which of few seeds, arise.
Unfold, with parfume, gainst the light divine,
So her dear aspect, entering through his eyes,
With subtle influence, ere might Pudens find
Defence, his heart transmues, sublimes his being.
Then flows the blood, in a delicious tide;
With high aspiring, frail, quick, confuse thought;
As when spread riotous leaves' green multitude,
On some fat ground; which of few seeds, arise.
Eftsoons, his soul, assembling all her powers;
He stedfastly refrains the stormy passion;
Firming his thought, on steep philosophy;
Idéae, (as stars, cold flaming from night's sky;)
Patterns of things immutable in the heavens;
And which the soul beholding, that descended
Thence, as pure fire, subdues base fleshes jar.
He stedfastly refrains the stormy passion;
Firming his thought, on steep philosophy;
Idéae, (as stars, cold flaming from night's sky;)
Patterns of things immutable in the heavens;
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Thence, as pure fire, subdues base fleshes jar.
What spirit revert, to that her former being,
And fly, on eyas wings, would, from the earth;
Must strongly her frail affections still represss;
Being thereto armed with heedful fortitude.
She keepeth, aye, harnessed watch, upon all walls,
Of her clay citadel, leaguered round; where most,
Churl-of-the-flesh, strong Captain of her foes,
She fears; howbe, at erst, of gracious guise,
This seemed; yet one he is, of brutish kind,
Titanic wight, wont wallow in the fen,
(Earth's son,) with swine: lest, on the soul, disarmed,
He, all suddenly sallying, with his vilain powers;
Should snatch the crown of honour, from her brows.
And fly, on eyas wings, would, from the earth;
Must strongly her frail affections still represss;
Being thereto armed with heedful fortitude.
She keepeth, aye, harnessed watch, upon all walls,
Of her clay citadel, leaguered round; where most,
Churl-of-the-flesh, strong Captain of her foes,
She fears; howbe, at erst, of gracious guise,
This seemed; yet one he is, of brutish kind,
Titanic wight, wont wallow in the fen,
(Earth's son,) with swine: lest, on the soul, disarmed,
He, all suddenly sallying, with his vilain powers;
Should snatch the crown of honour, from her brows.
She suffers to be kindled none strange fire,
On the chaste temple-altar of her being;
Whose strong contagion steaming to the brain,
And that close-creeping ferment, in the blood,
Turns sweet to sour, suborns the greedy sense;
She, both contemning, stedfast doth recuse.
On the chaste temple-altar of her being;
Whose strong contagion steaming to the brain,
And that close-creeping ferment, in the blood,
Turns sweet to sour, suborns the greedy sense;
She, both contemning, stedfast doth recuse.
Pudens still musing, in his hazel-bush,
Hears sing the Alban virgins, as they wend:
And after them, trace many-footed flocks,
Wide-wavering on the green. But she that seems
Goddess, or sunbright maiden of Diane,
Chants hymn of Cuan, as blithe lark in heaven.
Hears sing the Alban virgins, as they wend:
And after them, trace many-footed flocks,
Wide-wavering on the green. But she that seems
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Chants hymn of Cuan, as blithe lark in heaven.
Some spin of their lambs' wool, which hither pace;
Other the field-flowers crop, blue violet:
But guirlanded, (who primrose of them all,)
Is she that nighs, with budded eglantine;
Which seems a parfume cast, on earth, of heaven.
Other the field-flowers crop, blue violet:
But guirlanded, (who primrose of them all,)
Is she that nighs, with budded eglantine;
Which seems a parfume cast, on earth, of heaven.
Lord of life's breath, she sings, The Love of God,
Which brake the gyves of death! Hark, herding songs,
Attuned to shrilling pipes, of fenny reeds!
One sings, among her fellows, with clear voice:
Sings, golden spring-time, in the shepherds' cotes;
When seemeth a flowering orchard the wide earth;
And every bough a garland: when is season
Of milk, and comes again the stork, to house;
And quiddering swallows flitter in our eaves;
And sweet birds answer, all day, in the woods.
Which brake the gyves of death! Hark, herding songs,
Attuned to shrilling pipes, of fenny reeds!
One sings, among her fellows, with clear voice:
Sings, golden spring-time, in the shepherds' cotes;
When seemeth a flowering orchard the wide earth;
And every bough a garland: when is season
Of milk, and comes again the stork, to house;
And quiddering swallows flitter in our eaves;
And sweet birds answer, all day, in the woods.
Of silly sheep she sings and shearing feast;
When maidens and herd-grooms dance on the green;
And the bright moons, when shepherds fear no wolf.
Then all run, laughing, linkéd, fere and fere,
To gather primrose buds, in the new grass.
When maidens and herd-grooms dance on the green;
And the bright moons, when shepherds fear no wolf.
Then all run, laughing, linkéd, fere and fere,
To gather primrose buds, in the new grass.
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Passeth the virgin choir, in Pudens' breast,
Such sweetness leaving, as this furze in the sun:
And thinks his heart, on songs of witty Greeks,
Of other isle; but which none shepherds were.
A creeping pleasance, springing breath of love,
His heart infirms, as steel relents in fire.
Such sweetness leaving, as this furze in the sun:
And thinks his heart, on songs of witty Greeks,
Of other isle; but which none shepherds were.
A creeping pleasance, springing breath of love,
His heart infirms, as steel relents in fire.
He musing, still, in his deceitful bush,
The day drives forth, amongst these herbs and flowers,
Of Britain's meads. Again, in Ithobal's house,
He sits, among the saints, at eve, to sup.
Pudens admires their humble lofty countenance!
The day drives forth, amongst these herbs and flowers,
Of Britain's meads. Again, in Ithobal's house,
He sits, among the saints, at eve, to sup.
Pudens admires their humble lofty countenance!
But, after supper, new occasion finds
He abroad, with Felix Murcius, soon to pass;
To salute, namely, Salema, spouse to Joseph,
Because they should, at morn, from Alban, part.
He abroad, with Felix Murcius, soon to pass;
To salute, namely, Salema, spouse to Joseph,
Because they should, at morn, from Alban, part.
Come then, with lanterns, those, to the white porch,
Of Amathon's hall; and looking Romans in,
(The door on-jar;) yet silent stand without,
A space. On rushes, at clear hearth of turves,
Lo, age-bent comely Syrian mother sits.
By her, sits Keina, priestess, with white locks!
Gazing, him-thinks, how noble be their looks!
Of Amathon's hall; and looking Romans in,
(The door on-jar;) yet silent stand without,
A space. On rushes, at clear hearth of turves,
Lo, age-bent comely Syrian mother sits.
By her, sits Keina, priestess, with white locks!
Gazing, him-thinks, how noble be their looks!
Maidens, on stools, companions of Rosmerta,
Be seated round the walls, of this poor hall:
And they, to clothe, intend, the poor of Christ,
Their cheerful tasks. Wool of dead Amathon's flocks,
Some card, some spin, some weave. Her agéd voice,
Lifts Salema oft, among, in sweet discourse.
Be seated round the walls, of this poor hall:
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Their cheerful tasks. Wool of dead Amathon's flocks,
Some card, some spin, some weave. Her agéd voice,
Lifts Salema oft, among, in sweet discourse.
Rosmerta sits by Keina, next in place:
And she, to-night, reads forth that Lyber-Bret;
Wherein is writ, of the New Life, in Christ.
Seems some glad heavenly chant; and they rejoice,
With smiles and dulcet murmur of chaste lips.
And she, to-night, reads forth that Lyber-Bret;
Wherein is writ, of the New Life, in Christ.
Seems some glad heavenly chant; and they rejoice,
With smiles and dulcet murmur of chaste lips.
Pudens then goeth in, boldly, Roman knight.
(And, in that, Salema, mother of His Church,
In Avalon, warns Christ's Spirit; with this loved maid,
Should that elect young Roman be made one!)
And Pudens her, whose looks, as Summer gladness,
And eyes as star, which shines before the sun,
Beholds: she last him then beholds again,
Only of her womanly pity; and when she hears,
Was this he whom had healed her father Joseph.
(And, in that, Salema, mother of His Church,
In Avalon, warns Christ's Spirit; with this loved maid,
Should that elect young Roman be made one!)
And Pudens her, whose looks, as Summer gladness,
And eyes as star, which shines before the sun,
Beholds: she last him then beholds again,
Only of her womanly pity; and when she hears,
Was this he whom had healed her father Joseph.
Him, sees she angel-fair, for so would Christ;
As born again, purged from all earthly dross.
That looking of her eyes falls on his flesh;
As when a sunlight gildeth some waste ground.
It pierced his soul, which yet in darkness lies!
As born again, purged from all earthly dross.
That looking of her eyes falls on his flesh;
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It pierced his soul, which yet in darkness lies!
When, after greetings, sit down Roman guests;
Rosmerta, as Salema bade, that roll gan read,
Anew. She opens, peradventure, place,
Where writ; He journeyed, eachwhere, doing good:
And when the day's sun set, on Jesus' head,
The Lord, alwere in open field, abode.
And white of hew was Jesus' virgin flesh;
Benign His countenance. Where He passed, He said,
Peace, to each wight, of high or low estate,
And beckoned unto heaven, with His hand!
Rosmerta, as Salema bade, that roll gan read,
Anew. She opens, peradventure, place,
Where writ; He journeyed, eachwhere, doing good:
And when the day's sun set, on Jesus' head,
The Lord, alwere in open field, abode.
And white of hew was Jesus' virgin flesh;
Benign His countenance. Where He passed, He said,
Peace, to each wight, of high or low estate,
And beckoned unto heaven, with His hand!
Transported, Pudens gazeth, on the maid:
And pale he waxed and cold, and hot and red.
His stout heart quails, within his Roman breast.
Him seems converse in heaven! The whiles she reads,
Seem lamps her eyes, (whereon he looking dreams!)
Of love: such seem they, as, unto who sick,
The lattice-peeping star, in night's unrest.
And like to blissful sound, in Summer heat,
Of rain, that measure of the virgin's voice;
(Voice which him-seemed, in field, of Muse's lips,
Attuned to sweet consent of Phœbus' lute,
Making ambrosial melody, among the gods!)
And pale he waxed and cold, and hot and red.
His stout heart quails, within his Roman breast.
Him seems converse in heaven! The whiles she reads,
Seem lamps her eyes, (whereon he looking dreams!)
Of love: such seem they, as, unto who sick,
The lattice-peeping star, in night's unrest.
And like to blissful sound, in Summer heat,
Of rain, that measure of the virgin's voice;
(Voice which him-seemed, in field, of Muse's lips,
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Making ambrosial melody, among the gods!)
When, after this, those sing an heavenly laud;
What manly heart is there, of woman born,
But would not move to love, that sweet accord,
Lifted, of maidens' throats, to heavenly gods.
Sith Pudens risen, the spouse salutes of Joseph!
So turned to Ithobal's hall; but not to rest.
What manly heart is there, of woman born,
But would not move to love, that sweet accord,
Lifted, of maidens' throats, to heavenly gods.
Sith Pudens risen, the spouse salutes of Joseph!
So turned to Ithobal's hall; but not to rest.
In that fresh hour, when Britain's lavrock mounts,
On trembling wings, up, from the pearléd grass,
Rides Pudens forth, but having little slept.
To Mendip hills, returns the Roman knight.
Where come again, though he see no more Alban;
Yet cannot Auleius from himself remove.
On trembling wings, up, from the pearléd grass,
Rides Pudens forth, but having little slept.
To Mendip hills, returns the Roman knight.
Where come again, though he see no more Alban;
Yet cannot Auleius from himself remove.
His heart, wherein is war of opposed parts;
Is like to vast sea-billows' rumorous face,
Whereo'er have some great weathers lately passed.
Wanders his soul, then, as in wilderness;
Where, neath dog-star, without or herb or bush,
Is giddy drought, consuming bitterness;
Where woven have hot winds the sliding sand:
And only is God; and under empty loft,
The fearful echoing of man's forlorn voice.
Is like to vast sea-billows' rumorous face,
Whereo'er have some great weathers lately passed.
Wanders his soul, then, as in wilderness;
Where, neath dog-star, without or herb or bush,
Is giddy drought, consuming bitterness;
Where woven have hot winds the sliding sand:
And only is God; and under empty loft,
The fearful echoing of man's forlorn voice.
For love is like a fever, that ransacks
The reins, and dries the brain and inward parts:
A flower whose stem is fire, whose leaves are frost.
And lacking longtime sleep, each moment leaps
The heart up, in dry throat, of straitened breast;
And there stands still! Live present her dear looks,
Aye, in his transformed thought. The young knight day-
Long dreams, of eyes of love and meeting lips.
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A flower whose stem is fire, whose leaves are frost.
And lacking longtime sleep, each moment leaps
The heart up, in dry throat, of straitened breast;
And there stands still! Live present her dear looks,
Aye, in his transformed thought. The young knight day-
Long dreams, of eyes of love and meeting lips.
He would a murmuring bee he were; to sip
Of arcane sweet, (like to Elysian bliss!)
For evermore, from thence, his sustenance.
He dreams that maiden hand of her white flesh,
(Like Christ's,) joined unto his, in holy bond;
Which, in earth, maketh happy marriage.
Of arcane sweet, (like to Elysian bliss!)
For evermore, from thence, his sustenance.
He dreams that maiden hand of her white flesh,
(Like Christ's,) joined unto his, in holy bond;
Which, in earth, maketh happy marriage.
He would he a lavrock were, that, all day, might
He, o'er her, singing flit, from toft to croft;
Where walks Rosmerta, like to golden Dawn,
Before her sheep-flocks, in fair mead of Alban.
He, o'er her, singing flit, from toft to croft;
Where walks Rosmerta, like to golden Dawn,
Before her sheep-flocks, in fair mead of Alban.
Oft sitting, by his river's bubbling brinks,
Pudens, like Lælius, casts-in pebble-stones;
And would those flints he were, she the clear brook;
That evermore, her crystal sliding foot,
He might abide beneath, abide and drown.
Pudens, like Lælius, casts-in pebble-stones;
And would those flints he were, she the clear brook;
That evermore, her crystal sliding foot,
He might abide beneath, abide and drown.
Wastes then his sullen hours this knight of Rome,
To cast lots, with the spotless flowers of God,
That blow beside; tokening these daisies pied,
Himself; bright kingcups her, dight of pure gold:
So sprinkles, on the pool, his warlike hand.
And, as they mingle, or those swimming blooms
Be sunder drawn; so rise his hopes or wane.
To cast lots, with the spotless flowers of God,
That blow beside; tokening these daisies pied,
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So sprinkles, on the pool, his warlike hand.
And, as they mingle, or those swimming blooms
Be sunder drawn; so rise his hopes or wane.
How full of the infinite harmonies of my God,
Be these sweet fields! whose flowery Summer breath
Embalms the brain; where naught, to gentle heart,
But only, in all the world, sweet-love seems worth!
Be these sweet fields! whose flowery Summer breath
Embalms the brain; where naught, to gentle heart,
But only, in all the world, sweet-love seems worth!
Then he, who daylong lonely wanders forth;
The eternal mystery, Infinite Love, discerns,
Which all upholds, before and with all was,
Love, increate, unborn God! Love spake, and stars
Were! and went forth, upon their crystal spheres.
He spake again; and spread forth, from His hands,
Wide earth, to be the nations' dwelling-place.
But whilst Love weary slept, an envious spirit,
The seeds of his decay, sowed in man's flesh!
The eternal mystery, Infinite Love, discerns,
Which all upholds, before and with all was,
Love, increate, unborn God! Love spake, and stars
Were! and went forth, upon their crystal spheres.
He spake again; and spread forth, from His hands,
Wide earth, to be the nations' dwelling-place.
But whilst Love weary slept, an envious spirit,
The seeds of his decay, sowed in man's flesh!
Thus daily he fares, lone lingers, till late eve:
And henceforth all those daughters of the field,
And voiceful air, trees, herb, craigs, clouds, sweet birds;
And silver-footed streams of Mendip hills,
Wax dear, as kin, to him with wonted face.
When, last, now wanes from skies, day's cheerful light;
And kindled herd-swains' lucid star; (that fold
Then flocks, what hour wont fare forth evil beasts;
Whence handmaid she is named of huntress Cynthia;)
Gins Roman Pudens, pensive, homeward, trace:
But sith, upon his bed, finds little rest.
And henceforth all those daughters of the field,
And voiceful air, trees, herb, craigs, clouds, sweet birds;
And silver-footed streams of Mendip hills,
Wax dear, as kin, to him with wonted face.
When, last, now wanes from skies, day's cheerful light;
And kindled herd-swains' lucid star; (that fold
Then flocks, what hour wont fare forth evil beasts;
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Gins Roman Pudens, pensive, homeward, trace:
But sith, upon his bed, finds little rest.
Looking, towards infinite gulf of these night-gods;
He cannot choose but think on Rosmerta!
Him-seems then, mongst celestial signs, ensphered,
To walk, alone, with her, in crystal paths.
From love to love, with her, from light to light,
His spirit seems mount; and yet with her is Christ.
He dreams, and yet is wake, till morrow's cock.
He cannot choose but think on Rosmerta!
Him-seems then, mongst celestial signs, ensphered,
To walk, alone, with her, in crystal paths.
From love to love, with her, from light to light,
His spirit seems mount; and yet with her is Christ.
He dreams, and yet is wake, till morrow's cock.
The Roman knight, pale, erewhile, of his wound,
Like one, now waxed, forgetful of his good.
So love, that drinketh up the spirits, still found
Is wasting malady, a consuming smart:
Love that, from highest mountain top, draws breath,
Love that can lift the basest from the earth!
Few had then known again this knight of Rome;
Who walks aparted from wont fellowship.
Like one, now waxed, forgetful of his good.
So love, that drinketh up the spirits, still found
Is wasting malady, a consuming smart:
Love that, from highest mountain top, draws breath,
Love that can lift the basest from the earth!
Few had then known again this knight of Rome;
Who walks aparted from wont fellowship.
Oft would the Roman, he were Briton-born,
As Rosmerta; or hers were Latin tongue,
Which issues, from her mouth, as chain of gold.
Ah, might he but to her dear love attain;
And join to his, that only loveth Christ,
To his unworth, the sweetness of her life!
As Rosmerta; or hers were Latin tongue,
Which issues, from her mouth, as chain of gold.
Ah, might he but to her dear love attain;
And join to his, that only loveth Christ,
To his unworth, the sweetness of her life!
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For multitude, be his unquiet thoughts,
Like to a city's thronging, in her streets;
Whereas men noble-lignaged seen to space;
Who commons most. Go some by, knavish wights,
That stink of misery, and are evil breathed;
Which clamour raise, at the soul's temple-gate;
Where might those enter, should they all deface;
And tread down her bright bowers. In Pudens' breast,
If some dark whispering, hell-crept, spirit entice,
(For he, mongst vanquished nation, Roman is;)
Through guile, or else parforce, his love possess:
Divine Philosophy, thy clear discipline,
Remembering, puts away this perfect knight,
As spotted serpent, so ungentle thought;
As breath on mirror of her image bright!
Like to a city's thronging, in her streets;
Whereas men noble-lignaged seen to space;
Who commons most. Go some by, knavish wights,
That stink of misery, and are evil breathed;
Which clamour raise, at the soul's temple-gate;
Where might those enter, should they all deface;
And tread down her bright bowers. In Pudens' breast,
If some dark whispering, hell-crept, spirit entice,
(For he, mongst vanquished nation, Roman is;)
Through guile, or else parforce, his love possess:
Divine Philosophy, thy clear discipline,
Remembering, puts away this perfect knight,
As spotted serpent, so ungentle thought;
As breath on mirror of her image bright!
A certain Christos is that healing God,
Of her reputed father, Felix saith,
Judæus; but dwell not Jews, (whom Claudius erst
Expulsed from Rome,) to-day, in Cæsar's palace!
Of her reputed father, Felix saith,
Judæus; but dwell not Jews, (whom Claudius erst
Expulsed from Rome,) to-day, in Cæsar's palace!
Is not long since, (was in his father's days!)
Accused of His own people, of the Jews,
(His crime sedition, in a Roman Province;)
By Roman Law, judged and condemned, died Christos;
Impaled, mongst men transgressors, on vile cross;
(Which only, of slaves, the infamous punishment is,
And murderérs!) but rose, Divine, from death,
Christos, and He to heaven, so Felix saith,
Ascended: where He was, ere thrown the stars,
Of God, were on their spheres; so Felix saith!
Accused of His own people, of the Jews,
(His crime sedition, in a Roman Province;)
By Roman Law, judged and condemned, died Christos;
Impaled, mongst men transgressors, on vile cross;
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And murderérs!) but rose, Divine, from death,
Christos, and He to heaven, so Felix saith,
Ascended: where He was, ere thrown the stars,
Of God, were on their spheres; so Felix saith!
Then doubts this knight, how might he daughter bring,
Of barbare Isle, to Scipio's house, in Rome!
Though far her heavenly virtue should appear,
Bove Rome's loose ladies, and excelling feature.
Ah, noble Briton maid! he sighs; so rose
Pudens, from daylong musing, weak and faint.
Of barbare Isle, to Scipio's house, in Rome!
Though far her heavenly virtue should appear,
Bove Rome's loose ladies, and excelling feature.
Ah, noble Briton maid! he sighs; so rose
Pudens, from daylong musing, weak and faint.
For living wound is love; a deadly life,
Heart's dear constraint, which gladly we enclose:
A music's healing sweetness, in our souls;
An heavenly trance, a dovelike true consent;
Souls' covenant, drawn from their bodies forth;
To walk in gardens of fair lawns and flowers.
How seems, then, our life's dream, whereo'er there shines
Love's rising sun, a new-found world of gold!
Heart's dear constraint, which gladly we enclose:
A music's healing sweetness, in our souls;
An heavenly trance, a dovelike true consent;
Souls' covenant, drawn from their bodies forth;
To walk in gardens of fair lawns and flowers.
How seems, then, our life's dream, whereo'er there shines
Love's rising sun, a new-found world of gold!
Love is here lowest stair, to the Infinite Good.
Love-labour easy is: is aught so hard,
But will attempt it love? with panting breast!
For love, love lightly would forsake the world!
Love-labour easy is: is aught so hard,
But will attempt it love? with panting breast!
For love, love lightly would forsake the world!
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Well wots he; might Rosmerta not be given,
To any Idolater. Thirsts then Pudens' soul,
Like to dry beast, that wanders lowing forth;
And cannot find, where to go down to drink!
How, being Roman? how, might he believe,
Great Pan was slain, and rose again from death!
To any Idolater. Thirsts then Pudens' soul,
Like to dry beast, that wanders lowing forth;
And cannot find, where to go down to drink!
How, being Roman? how, might he believe,
Great Pan was slain, and rose again from death!
Be many, in Asia, found, religions strange:
Him semblable, this of Syrian Joseph, seems,
To Mithras' rites, which lately brought to Rome;
Aye and mystery of Astarte and Adon slain;
Who raised, the third day, each year, is to the goddess.
But Felix saith, Christ greater was than thus;
Who sought passed spirits, in gulf, beneath the earth:
In Whom being also raiséd from the dead,
Shall we men from last powder of the grave
Eternally revive; so Felix saith!
Him semblable, this of Syrian Joseph, seems,
To Mithras' rites, which lately brought to Rome;
Aye and mystery of Astarte and Adon slain;
Who raised, the third day, each year, is to the goddess.
But Felix saith, Christ greater was than thus;
Who sought passed spirits, in gulf, beneath the earth:
In Whom being also raiséd from the dead,
Shall we men from last powder of the grave
Eternally revive; so Felix saith!
Pistos, on whom Christ's saints their hands ere laid,
To preach God's word, in Britain's Roman Province;
Returning by Caer Bran, is Pudens' guest.
The morrow, first in seven, the Lord's day is;
And lo, assembled in his villa court,
Yet being very early, to break bread;
And nothing minish of their Master's tasks,
Poor souls together, brethren, which believe,
On Christ: and those bondservants are to Auleius!
To preach God's word, in Britain's Roman Province;
Returning by Caer Bran, is Pudens' guest.
The morrow, first in seven, the Lord's day is;
And lo, assembled in his villa court,
Yet being very early, to break bread;
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Poor souls together, brethren, which believe,
On Christ: and those bondservants are to Auleius!
Uprose young Auleius; who laid on his bed,
Long, without sleep, hath heard a mingled voice,
(Souning with swallows and these early birds,
So rife in Britain,) óf hymns, in rude mouths
Of his own servants; glad and weeping voice!
Long, without sleep, hath heard a mingled voice,
(Souning with swallows and these early birds,
So rife in Britain,) óf hymns, in rude mouths
Of his own servants; glad and weeping voice!
Soon from his balcony, pale yet, for love's heat,
And his old languor, he looks down; (nor yet
Is, but as twilight of a Summer's dawn,)
On this strange new assembling of his servants.
All stand, whilst Murcius fervent prays; which ceased,
Pistos exhorts, in lifting up his voice!
And his old languor, he looks down; (nor yet
Is, but as twilight of a Summer's dawn,)
On this strange new assembling of his servants.
All stand, whilst Murcius fervent prays; which ceased,
Pistos exhorts, in lifting up his voice!
He marks that mild demeanour of them all;
How gaze their eyes, like lovers' eyes, far-off;
How smile their lips, a smile not of the earth.
Poor wights, how gentle is their clownish cheer;
As some the noblest of this world they were!
How gaze their eyes, like lovers' eyes, far-off;
How smile their lips, a smile not of the earth.
Poor wights, how gentle is their clownish cheer;
As some the noblest of this world they were!
Marks Pudens, certain, kiss their adversaries;
And some, with tears, confess their former guilts:
Some fallen, upon their faces, quake and weep;
Some bowed down in their prayer, make moan; that might
They no more stain their souls, to death; whereof
This body should be temple-raiment pure;
Until they see Christ's coming in the air!
And some, with tears, confess their former guilts:
Some fallen, upon their faces, quake and weep;
Some bowed down in their prayer, make moan; that might
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This body should be temple-raiment pure;
Until they see Christ's coming in the air!
Pudens, being with new inward sweetness, toucht!
As one whom wakes a music in the night,
Recoils all softly, to his cubicle.
He feels, he wist not why, his soul at rest:
So makes him ready shortly to wend forth,
Unto the fields. But musing Pudens still,
Looks on the ikons, which his father, Verus,
Ranged on these walls, with his familiar gods:
Pythagoras; by whom stands old Sabine Numa,
Then Zeno; then that plat-faced ruddy son,
Of Sophroniscos, wisest man was named,
By the holy oracle; (he whom not-the-less,
His city, Pallas' city! put to death.)
Next him is Plato, Sapience of the gods.
Sith Rome's great captains, Scipio, Julius:
Last Homer's image, ever crowned with flowers!
As one whom wakes a music in the night,
Recoils all softly, to his cubicle.
He feels, he wist not why, his soul at rest:
So makes him ready shortly to wend forth,
Unto the fields. But musing Pudens still,
Looks on the ikons, which his father, Verus,
Ranged on these walls, with his familiar gods:
Pythagoras; by whom stands old Sabine Numa,
Then Zeno; then that plat-faced ruddy son,
Of Sophroniscos, wisest man was named,
By the holy oracle; (he whom not-the-less,
His city, Pallas' city! put to death.)
Next him is Plato, Sapience of the gods.
Sith Rome's great captains, Scipio, Julius:
Last Homer's image, ever crowned with flowers!
How lifts his soul in his lararium, Auleius;
Up to that God, of loved Rosmerta and Joseph!
Immutable, from Whom came forth our spirits.
His brow great drops sweats; whilst, his palms spread-forth,
Towards Great Alfather, Who the world sustains,
Of men and gods, his voiceless prayer ascends.
Up to that God, of loved Rosmerta and Joseph!
Immutable, from Whom came forth our spirits.
His brow great drops sweats; whilst, his palms spread-forth,
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Of men and gods, his voiceless prayer ascends.
Though hearts more ripe of Britons, to receive
God's kingdom; Christ hath called this Roman Auleius!
He all dáy, he all night-time, only sees Rosmerta.
Possesseth her pure heavenly radiance,
His being, like unto an abiding vision.
Him-seems, she beckons mild. Him-thinks he hears,
In every place, (bidding him send for Joseph!)
Rosmerta's voice. In vision he the Christ
Beheld, as an impression in the air!
God's kingdom; Christ hath called this Roman Auleius!
He all dáy, he all night-time, only sees Rosmerta.
Possesseth her pure heavenly radiance,
His being, like unto an abiding vision.
Him-seems, she beckons mild. Him-thinks he hears,
In every place, (bidding him send for Joseph!)
Rosmerta's voice. In vision he the Christ
Beheld, as an impression in the air!
Again rose cry of famine, in Rome's Province.
Have seven-times hastily Britons gathered in
Their harvest of bread corn: most scarcity is,
Now this eighth year. Hungering in wide Duffreynt,
A wretched people journey from their cotes;
That stretch lean hands forth, clamouring to eat bread;
Even of strange Romans, their Land's enemies!
Men wander, full of sores, with tottering tread:
They fall in heaths; they die in thicket woods.
The remnant train their pithless joints uneath!
Have seven-times hastily Britons gathered in
Their harvest of bread corn: most scarcity is,
Now this eighth year. Hungering in wide Duffreynt,
A wretched people journey from their cotes;
That stretch lean hands forth, clamouring to eat bread;
Even of strange Romans, their Land's enemies!
Men wander, full of sores, with tottering tread:
They fall in heaths; they die in thicket woods.
The remnant train their pithless joints uneath!
Young mothers, hollow-eyed, with sharpened looks,
And faint, lay deadly babes to their dry dugs.
The harrish hips, in vain, the forest leaves,
They chaw; and the unkindly herb, alas!
For empty are their veins, as the South wind.
Lie cast men's carrions, under briar and bush,
Meat of corpse-birds: are filled the vales with stink;
And rot, for putrid lies the grass, the brooks.
Fight unclean hounds, o'er carcases of wights;
And gnaw their skulls, they hide then in the brakes.
Is none to bury, and all the world a grave!
And faint, lay deadly babes to their dry dugs.
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They chaw; and the unkindly herb, alas!
For empty are their veins, as the South wind.
Lie cast men's carrions, under briar and bush,
Meat of corpse-birds: are filled the vales with stink;
And rot, for putrid lies the grass, the brooks.
Fight unclean hounds, o'er carcases of wights;
And gnaw their skulls, they hide then in the brakes.
Is none to bury, and all the world a grave!
Careless of warfare, which, erewhile, with Romans;
How may they only eat, seek dying Britons.
Their bodies men, to bondage, for vile price,
Sell! so their fainting little ones might taste
Of bread. Suetonius hastily, Cæsar's legate,
To Gaul, then tribute-gold sends of Isle Britain;
To take up corn, and feed his dying Province.
How may they only eat, seek dying Britons.
Their bodies men, to bondage, for vile price,
Sell! so their fainting little ones might taste
Of bread. Suetonius hastily, Cæsar's legate,
To Gaul, then tribute-gold sends of Isle Britain;
To take up corn, and feed his dying Province.
But rousing him, from dream, is busy Auleius,
To succour Britons; whose, towards fenny Alban,
Wayfaring feet, now Mendip, faintly, pass.
And yet, to more increase of many miseries;
The sea, which shut in God, with walls of stone,
And bars of sand, so drave a vehement wind;
That beat the giant flood, úp over salt strand!
Whence drowned the fenny plain; that, with the mere,
Conjoined, is come again salt deep to Avalon.
To succour Britons; whose, towards fenny Alban,
Wayfaring feet, now Mendip, faintly, pass.
And yet, to more increase of many miseries;
The sea, which shut in God, with walls of stone,
And bars of sand, so drave a vehement wind;
That beat the giant flood, úp over salt strand!
Whence drowned the fenny plain; that, with the mere,
Conjoined, is come again salt deep to Avalon.
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Now in lockt capsa, amongst his father's books,
Auleius finds roll of Pollio Vitruvius;
And reads, where Pollio entreats, in certain place;
How frame, by building art, all kinds of argines,
Moles, dams and dykes, gainst sea and river's force.
Auleius finds roll of Pollio Vitruvius;
And reads, where Pollio entreats, in certain place;
How frame, by building art, all kinds of argines,
Moles, dams and dykes, gainst sea and river's force.
Rides Pudens forth, to view the sites, with Murcius;
And reasoning still, and pondering, in his thought;
And heard at Aquæ now arrived the legate;
He, turned his horse, rode thither, to Suetonius;
To whom, next day, he all his care expounded.
And reasoning still, and pondering, in his thought;
And heard at Aquæ now arrived the legate;
He, turned his horse, rode thither, to Suetonius;
To whom, next day, he all his care expounded.
Hears and grants the proprætor: and, to Pudens,
He issued his commission, to hew wood,
And conscribe labourers: further he him gives
Wains and an hundred pioneers. With these
Then Auleius, marched; and all along the path,
He young men gathers and work-beasts. Come down,
To vast sea-breaches; o'er his Briton folk,
He sets decurion soldiers. Day and night-time,
These travail, hewing beams; which sith they ram,
Two ranks, in ooze, with beetles, twixt both tides,
And wind; and stop, with crates and clay-stived sacks.
He issued his commission, to hew wood,
And conscribe labourers: further he him gives
Wains and an hundred pioneers. With these
Then Auleius, marched; and all along the path,
He young men gathers and work-beasts. Come down,
To vast sea-breaches; o'er his Briton folk,
He sets decurion soldiers. Day and night-time,
These travail, hewing beams; which sith they ram,
Two ranks, in ooze, with beetles, twixt both tides,
And wind; and stop, with crates and clay-stived sacks.
But when seemed, one day, nigh to be achieved,
Against that flood, their busy hasty work;
And lightened is again his breast, rides Auleius,
To Avalon-ward, thence not far off. Him-seemed,
Then, as he rides, to hear an arcane voice,
Saying; Líke that Word, whereof ere Plato writ,
Christ of Alfather of the world is Breath.
Against that flood, their busy hasty work;
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To Avalon-ward, thence not far off. Him-seemed,
Then, as he rides, to hear an arcane voice,
Saying; Líke that Word, whereof ere Plato writ,
Christ of Alfather of the world is Breath.
And as he studies, in his mood, he is
Behold, arrived! and much uplandish folk
Finds hungry and wretched, wandered in to Alban;
Whom, housed, in turven cotes and osier bowers,
Now Shalum nourish, and the magistrate.
Behold, arrived! and much uplandish folk
Finds hungry and wretched, wandered in to Alban;
Whom, housed, in turven cotes and osier bowers,
Now Shalum nourish, and the magistrate.
Joseph is borne, (infirm his prayer-worn knees,)
Amongst them in a litter; and outstretched
The father oft his hand, to heal and bless.
Now of all the famished women there, hath charge
Rosmerta: and fain are of the virgin's face,
Their weary eyes, as fowls of morning light;
Mother of orphans and their little ones;
Which thing, as he beholds, he trusts in Christ!
Amongst them in a litter; and outstretched
The father oft his hand, to heal and bless.
Now of all the famished women there, hath charge
Rosmerta: and fain are of the virgin's face,
Their weary eyes, as fowls of morning light;
Mother of orphans and their little ones;
Which thing, as he beholds, he trusts in Christ!
Blessed of the Lord; and sealed, betwixt them twain,
The lovely marriage bond, of Christ in heaven:
From that empyreal shining see, whereas
He sate, mongst Sons of God, ere this world was;
An angel slides. He lights, as Ray of Love
Divine, from azure wings, on earth's low clod;
Wings like to changeful tokens of the dove.
The lovely marriage bond, of Christ in heaven:
From that empyreal shining see, whereas
He sate, mongst Sons of God, ere this world was;
An angel slides. He lights, as Ray of Love
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Wings like to changeful tokens of the dove.
Now evening-red, Rosmerta is come home,
To Salema's bower, and lowly kneels the maid;
And bowing down to Christ, her golden head,
Her innocent washen hands she folds, in prayer.
To Salema's bower, and lowly kneels the maid;
And bowing down to Christ, her golden head,
Her innocent washen hands she folds, in prayer.
Whilst, for her orphan little ones and poor,
She seeks the Lord; and soars her wingéd thought;
Enters, like unto glance of rainbow light,
In Amathon's hall, the angel. Else unseen,
His high immortal hand, holds over her,
The gracious crown of perfect womanhead.
She seeks the Lord; and soars her wingéd thought;
Enters, like unto glance of rainbow light,
In Amathon's hall, the angel. Else unseen,
His high immortal hand, holds over her,
The gracious crown of perfect womanhead.
His other hand lifts censer, lo, divine;
Wherein he inspiring, kindles holy warmth,
Of kindly affections, in her virgin being;
New blameless earthly sense, dumb and unknown,
Of powers and virtues, which the world uphold,
Enlarging charity; and seemed the Avalon maid,
Her, prayer-spread virgin arms, Christ's voice say, Fold
About My lambs, in spotless marriage!
Wherein he inspiring, kindles holy warmth,
Of kindly affections, in her virgin being;
New blameless earthly sense, dumb and unknown,
Of powers and virtues, which the world uphold,
Enlarging charity; and seemed the Avalon maid,
Her, prayer-spread virgin arms, Christ's voice say, Fold
About My lambs, in spotless marriage!
Wox then her gentle lifted heart abashed;
And, in her prayer, she quakes, and weeps to Christ,
In sweet distress. And, for the evening light,
Whilst long she prayed, is wasted from the earth;
She doubts it were some fever of the fen,
Which her molests. A little while, she sighed,
To the High Lord; and named dear name of Christ:
Then having sung an hymn, her down she laid;
And on her pallet sleeps, as child doth rest.
And, in her prayer, she quakes, and weeps to Christ,
In sweet distress. And, for the evening light,
Whilst long she prayed, is wasted from the earth;
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Which her molests. A little while, she sighed,
To the High Lord; and named dear name of Christ:
Then having sung an hymn, her down she laid;
And on her pallet sleeps, as child doth rest.
She dreams it Spring-time; when erst field and wood
Recomforted are with sunny beams and showers.
And seemed her then, one hail-beat, for Christ's sake,
An enemy, she, (some Roman, wounded, pale,)
Leads in to shelter. Seen, more nigh, his face;
It is the same whom healed her father Joseph!
Recomforted are with sunny beams and showers.
And seemed her then, one hail-beat, for Christ's sake,
An enemy, she, (some Roman, wounded, pale,)
Leads in to shelter. Seen, more nigh, his face;
It is the same whom healed her father Joseph!
But word this spake; how only was, for her,
He suffered languor; whence surprised her heart,
It came, him, brother, in her simple thought,
To call; and though she brother hath no mo.
Her pity seems, that one so gentle is,
The Lord not knoweth. Gan then, within her spirit,
The maiden pray, and him commend to Christ.
He suffered languor; whence surprised her heart,
It came, him, brother, in her simple thought,
To call; and though she brother hath no mo.
Her pity seems, that one so gentle is,
The Lord not knoweth. Gan then, within her spirit,
The maiden pray, and him commend to Christ.
Seemed, in her dream, then, that his Roman tongue
Did ask, If that she choose alway, in Alban,
To dwell. But when was tempest-cloud o'erpast;
And wide again seemed garish sun shine forth,
On Avalon's mere; the stranger, parting, spake,
Farewell! and ached, to weeping, her young heart!
Did ask, If that she choose alway, in Alban,
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And wide again seemed garish sun shine forth,
On Avalon's mere; the stranger, parting, spake,
Farewell! and ached, to weeping, her young heart!
Rosmerta wakes; and stays her soul, on Christ:
So rose; and made her ready, to wend forth,
To minister needful things, to poor and sick.
So rose; and made her ready, to wend forth,
To minister needful things, to poor and sick.
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