 | Songs for Sailors |  |
IN A ROMAN WINE-HOUSE.
DURING CÆSAR OCTAVIUS'S TRIUMPHS, B.C. 29.
Now, by Mars's beard, Favonius, these that Rome to-day is loud of
I name not with great Julius: these are men; he was a god.
What years were those in Gaul when fierce they surged around us, proud of
Their countless strength! We tamed them; how they trembled at his nod!
I name not with great Julius: these are men; he was a god.
What years were those in Gaul when fierce they surged around us, proud of
Their countless strength! We tamed them; how they trembled at his nod!
Fill! nay, spare thou not the wine, man! red as that, we of his legions,
I of the Tenth, world-famous, soaked Alesia's reeking ways;
How we heaped their gold-torqued chieftains—piled the brave of all its regions!
Not the swift, broad Rhine could stay our conquering eagles in his days.
I of the Tenth, world-famous, soaked Alesia's reeking ways;
How we heaped their gold-torqued chieftains—piled the brave of all its regions!
Not the swift, broad Rhine could stay our conquering eagles in his days.
Not the farthest circling ocean that stretched vast and horror-haunted,
With no further land than Britain, where the mystic Druids taught
Fell strange spells that flung the lightnings, that our truest spirits daunted;
But our Cæsar willed to show its pearls to Rome—so there we fought.
With no further land than Britain, where the mystic Druids taught
Fell strange spells that flung the lightnings, that our truest spirits daunted;
But our Cæsar willed to show its pearls to Rome—so there we fought.
88
War they loved, the long-haired tribes there; wild, woad-stained, skin-clad, I see them
As I saw them as our transports neared their unknown wooded shore;
As they yelled along their white cliffs, few, I swear, from dread could free them,
And our boldest, to plunge shoreward through the foe-filled surf, forbore.
As I saw them as our transports neared their unknown wooded shore;
As they yelled along their white cliffs, few, I swear, from dread could free them,
And our boldest, to plunge shoreward through the foe-filled surf, forbore.
Even under Cæsar's very eyes, not one Centurion, leaping,
Led the gazing ranks to battle through the billows to the land;
Then I cried to the great gods to have my eagle in their keeping,
And I looked one look to him as towards the beach he drove his hand.
Led the gazing ranks to battle through the billows to the land;
Then I cried to the great gods to have my eagle in their keeping,
And I looked one look to him as towards the beach he drove his hand.
On his galley's prow I see him; in his sight (he saw and told it)
I, standard-bearer of the Tenth, leapt with the ringing cry:
‘Men of the Tenth, will you betray this eagle? I that hold it
Bear it there, where it should be; I plunge, to conquer or to die!’
I, standard-bearer of the Tenth, leapt with the ringing cry:
‘Men of the Tenth, will you betray this eagle? I that hold it
Bear it there, where it should be; I plunge, to conquer or to die!’
Then the shout of Rome rang upwards, and a thousand plunging round me;
Made the long foam break on flashing arms—then breast to breast was set,
With shout and shriek, and clash and groan, at stroke and thrust I found me;
That hour, I say, our General looked upon us hard beset.
Made the long foam break on flashing arms—then breast to breast was set,
With shout and shriek, and clash and groan, at stroke and thrust I found me;
That hour, I say, our General looked upon us hard beset.
Ah, these Britons! (have you seen them in the Campus, matched with others
Of all races? then you know, man, of what stuff the brood is come);
Hot and sudden cold the Gaul is; these are like their Teuton brothers,
Stern of purpose, that can look in death's eyes with the gaze of Rome.
Of all races? then you know, man, of what stuff the brood is come);
Hot and sudden cold the Gaul is; these are like their Teuton brothers,
Stern of purpose, that can look in death's eyes with the gaze of Rome.
89
How they met us on that flat shore, pouring down the cliffs to meet us,
From the rolling downs down-roaring, foot and horse, and scythe-armed car!
Huge they came in boar and wolf skin, with fierce battle-songs to greet us,
With bare breasts that fearless thrust them joyous to the front of war.
From the rolling downs down-roaring, foot and horse, and scythe-armed car!
Huge they came in boar and wolf skin, with fierce battle-songs to greet us,
With bare breasts that fearless thrust them joyous to the front of war.
Then they knew us not; they met us knowing not that Cæsar's coming
Was to see and to destroy still all who met the short sword's thrust—
That the Fates to the great city's yoke all lands and tribes were dooming—
That the sons of the wolf-suckled must grind all foes in the dust.
Was to see and to destroy still all who met the short sword's thrust—
That the Fates to the great city's yoke all lands and tribes were dooming—
That the sons of the wolf-suckled must grind all foes in the dust.
Help the bald-pate saw we needed (so his words said when he wrote them),
Struggling through the clinging sea-depths, armourcumbered, stormed with blows;
So our slingers, archers, engines from the transports for us smote them
Sideways with a hail of death, and brought our sea-war to a close.
Struggling through the clinging sea-depths, armourcumbered, stormed with blows;
So our slingers, archers, engines from the transports for us smote them
Sideways with a hail of death, and brought our sea-war to a close.
Once on firm ground from the ocean, then they stood not long before us,
Then we gave them point and pilum, and they learned to know our mark;
Rome's brand we scored on breast and back, and as the eve closed o'er us
The uproar sank to silence, and we camped us in the dark.
Then we gave them point and pilum, and they learned to know our mark;
Rome's brand we scored on breast and back, and as the eve closed o'er us
The uproar sank to silence, and we camped us in the dark.
Fill again to him, great Julius! curses on the steel that slew him!
Never will the hate that stabbed him, or Time, see his like again.
Here I sit worn-out and useless, yet to think I served, I knew him,
Makes me young and I can laugh even when my old wounds rack with pain.
Never will the hate that stabbed him, or Time, see his like again.
90
Makes me young and I can laugh even when my old wounds rack with pain.
Fighting this same British fight now, till its very yells are present,
As my old words tell the old tale and my old thoughts see it all,
Makes, O brother, this same warm hour in this wineshop doubly pleasant,
As the Forum's hum flows past us and the shadows eastward crawl.
As my old words tell the old tale and my old thoughts see it all,
Makes, O brother, this same warm hour in this wineshop doubly pleasant,
As the Forum's hum flows past us and the shadows eastward crawl.
| Songs for Sailors | |