University of Virginia Library

When Caesar had receaude his aunswere soe,
It vext him much: he fully straight decreed,
To wadge vs warre, and worke vs Britaines woe:
Therefore he hasted hitherwarde with speede.
Wee Britaynes eke, prepard our selues with heede,
To meete the Romaynes all in warlike wise:
With all the force, and speede we might deuise.

198

Wee Britaynes then farre deemde it meeter much,
To meete him first at th'entry on this lande:
Then for to giue an entrye here to suche,
Might with our victuals here our selues withstand.
Tis better far thy enemye to abande,
Quite from thy borders to a straunger soyle:
Then he at home, thee and thy country spoyle.
Wherefore we met him, at his entry in,
And pitche our campes directly in his way:
Wee minded sure to leese or els to winne
The praise, before wee paste from thence away.
So when that both the armies were in ray,
And trumpets blaste on euery side was blowne:
Our mindes to either eche, were quickely knowne.
Wee ioyned battaile, fercely both we fought:
The Romaynes to enlarge their Empires fame,
And wee with all the force and might wee mought,
To saue our country, and to keepe our name.
O worthy Britaynes learne to do the same,
Wee brake the rayes of all the Romaine host:
And made the mighty Caesar leaue his boast.
Yet he the worthiest Captaine euer was,
Brought all in ray, and fought againe a newe:
His skilfull souldiers he could bring to passe,
At once for why his traynings all they knewe.
No soner I his noble corps did vewe,
But in I brake amongst the Captaines bande,
And there I fought with Caesar hand to hande.

199

O God thou mightst haue giuen a Britaine grace,
T'haue slaine the Romaine Caesar noble then:
Which sought his bloud the Britaynes to deface,
And bring in bondage, valiaunt worthy men.
He neuer should haue gone to Rome agen,
To fight with Pompey, or his Peres to slaye,
Or els to bring his countrye in decaye.
It ioyde my hart to strike on Caesars crest,
O Caesar that there had bin none but wee:
I often made my sworde to trye thy brest,
But Lady Fortune did not looke on mee.
I able was mee thought with Caesars three,
To trye the case: I made thy hart to quake,
When on thy crest with mighty strokes I strake.
The strokes thou strokst mee, hurt me nought at all:
For why thy strength was nothing in respect,
But thou hadste bathde thy sword in poyson all:
Which did my wounde, not deadly els infect.
Yet was I or I parted thence bewrekte,
I gate thy sworde from thee for all thy fame:
And made thee flye, for feare to eate the same.
For when thy sword was in my Target fast,
I made the flye, and quickly leaue thy holde:
Thou neuer wast in all thy life so gast,
Nor durst againe be euer halfe so bolde.
I made a nomber Romaynes harts full colde,
Fight, fight, you noble Britaynes now (quoth I)
Wee neuer all will vnreuenged dye.

200

What Caesar though thy praise and mine be od?
Perdy the stories scarce remember mee:
Though Poets all of the do make a God,
Such simple fooles in making Gods they bee.
Yet if I might my case haue tride wyth thee,
Thou neuer hadst retournde to Rome againe:
Nor of thy faithfull frendes, bin beastly slaine.
A nomber Britaynes mightst thou ther haue seene,
Death wounded fight, & spoile their spiteful foes:
My selfe maynde, slewe and mangled mo I weene,
When I was hurt then twenty more of those.
I made the Romaynes harts to take their hose:
In all the campe no Romaine scarce I spyde,
Durst halfe a combat gainst a Britaine byde.
At lengthe I met a noble man they calde
Him Labienus, one of Caesars frendes,
A Tribune erste had many Britaynes thralde:
Was one of Caesars legates forth he sendes.
Well met (quoth I) I mynde to make the mendes,
For all thy frendship to our contrey crewe:
And so with Caesars sworde, his frende I slewe.
What nede I name you euery Britayne here,
As firste the king the nobles all beside:
Full stoute and worthy wightes in warre that were,
As euer erste the stately Romaines tryde.
We fought so long they durst no longer byde,
Proude Caesar he for all his bragges and boste:
Flew backe to shippes, with half his scattered hoste.

201

If he had bene a God as sottes him namde,
He coulde not of vs Britaynes taken foyle:
The Monarche Caesar might haue bene ashamde,
From such an Islande with his shippes recoyle,
Or else to flie and leaue behinde the spoyle:
But life is swete, he thought it better flye,
Then byde amongst vs Britaynes for to die.
I had his sworde, was namde Crocea mors,
With which he gaue me in the head a stroke,
The venime of the which had such a force,
It able was to perce the harte of oke:
No medcines might the poyson out reuoke,
Wherfore though scarce he perced had the skin:
In fiftene dayes my braynes it ranckled in.
And then to soone (alas therfore) I dyde,
I would to God he had retournde againe:
So that I might but once the dastard spyde,
Before he went I had the serpent slaine.
He playde the cowarde cutthrote all to playne,
A beastly serpentes harte that beaste detectes:
Which or he fighte, his sworde with bane infectes.
Well then my death, brought Caesar no renowne:
For both I gate therby, eternall fame,
And eke his sworde to strike his frendes a downe:
I slewe therewith his Labiene by name,
With prince, against my countrey foes I came:
Was wounded, yet did neuer fainte nor yelde:
Till Caesar with his souldiours fled the fielde.

202

Who would not venter life in such a case?
Who would not fight, at countreis whole requeste?
Who would not, meeting Caesar in the place,
Fight for life, prince and countrey with the beste?
The greatest courage is by factes expreste.
Then for thy prince with fortitude as I,
And realmes behofe: is prayse, to liue or dy.
Nowe wryte my life when thou haste leisure and,
Will all thy countrey men to learne by mee,
Both for their prince and for their natiue lande:
As valiaunte, bolde and fearelesse for to bee.
A paterne playne of fortitude they see,
To which directly if them selues they frame:
They shall preserue, their countrey, faith and fame.