The Dawn in Britain by Charles M. Doughty |
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 | The Dawn in Britain |  |
Tells Pistos, This is Sena's sacred isle,
Wherein have priestess-virgins, nine, abode,
Till death: and ships of Gaul, wont hither sail,
With offerings, and to pray for prosperous voyage.
Strangers, shipwrecked, are holy to their god.
The priestess maids, which may, in sundry shapes,
Transfigure them, (that, from their women's breasts,
They might all pity chace,) of some fell beasts,
As hounds or wolves; when first decays their strength,
On them wont seize! and those, for fear, nigh dead,
Hale the weird sisters to dire altar stones;
Whereas, at set of sun, they slit their gorge;
And lap, with furious tongues, their lukewarm blood.
Each year is, there, high tide; when, from the Main,
Come Gauls, Armoricans, and come Venetan Gauls,
In many barks, with captives, taken in wars;
Which wont they, for good seasons, sacrifice!
Wherein have priestess-virgins, nine, abode,
Till death: and ships of Gaul, wont hither sail,
With offerings, and to pray for prosperous voyage.
Strangers, shipwrecked, are holy to their god.
The priestess maids, which may, in sundry shapes,
Transfigure them, (that, from their women's breasts,
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As hounds or wolves; when first decays their strength,
On them wont seize! and those, for fear, nigh dead,
Hale the weird sisters to dire altar stones;
Whereas, at set of sun, they slit their gorge;
And lap, with furious tongues, their lukewarm blood.
Each year is, there, high tide; when, from the Main,
Come Gauls, Armoricans, and come Venetan Gauls,
In many barks, with captives, taken in wars;
Which wont they, for good seasons, sacrifice!
These only, other none, may Sena's shore,
Tread. Shipmen cast, from sea, towards strand, their gifts.
Both men and women, victims, there, are slain,
In all the people's viewing. Dread custom is,
The same day, that, those virgins nine rend down,
Their temple house: poor halm-thatcht cote it is;
But wherein burns a never-dying hearth.
Sith, to some sacred holt, for boughs and reeds,
They wend; whereof being burdened, (faint with fast,)
Their knees; if happen any one to slide,
To fall, (which seen most years!) with ghastful shrieks,
Ah, horrid to be told, like haggard hawks,
The rest, her virgin members rend; and smirched,
With blood, hurl forth, from cliff, her murdered corse.
Tread. Shipmen cast, from sea, towards strand, their gifts.
Both men and women, victims, there, are slain,
In all the people's viewing. Dread custom is,
The same day, that, those virgins nine rend down,
Their temple house: poor halm-thatcht cote it is;
But wherein burns a never-dying hearth.
Sith, to some sacred holt, for boughs and reeds,
They wend; whereof being burdened, (faint with fast,)
Their knees; if happen any one to slide,
To fall, (which seen most years!) with ghastful shrieks,
Ah, horrid to be told, like haggard hawks,
The rest, her virgin members rend; and smirched,
With blood, hurl forth, from cliff, her murdered corse.
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When any, of these sisters, is deceased,
The rest, from Sena, yell to the fast shore.
Assemble princes, then, of Gaul, and druids,
To hill of the mainland, thereo'er; which choose,
By sacred lot, with hymns and sacrifices,
One of Gauls' noblest virgins in her room.
And Gauls ween, sovereign spells have those weird women,
To tempests bind, and loose out boisterous winds;
Aye, and even the wandering stars wrest from their courses!
And leeches' skill of herbs, to heal or hurt.
The rest, from Sena, yell to the fast shore.
Assemble princes, then, of Gaul, and druids,
To hill of the mainland, thereo'er; which choose,
By sacred lot, with hymns and sacrifices,
One of Gauls' noblest virgins in her room.
And Gauls ween, sovereign spells have those weird women,
To tempests bind, and loose out boisterous winds;
Aye, and even the wandering stars wrest from their courses!
And leeches' skill of herbs, to heal or hurt.
Salads, and berries wild, ben their most meat.
Sequestered dwells each priestess, in a grot,
Which, in her death, her tomb; to the cave's mouth,
Rolled a great stone. Is Sena's oracle,
A certain pool, whose well flows from the gods;
Wherein aught done in heaven, or in the earth,
Or to come on the earth, as in a glass,
Men say, is seen. Whilst Pistos communed, thus,
Is come the hour of evening sacrifice.
Sequestered dwells each priestess, in a grot,
Which, in her death, her tomb; to the cave's mouth,
Rolled a great stone. Is Sena's oracle,
A certain pool, whose well flows from the gods;
Wherein aught done in heaven, or in the earth,
Or to come on the earth, as in a glass,
Men say, is seen. Whilst Pistos communed, thus,
Is come the hour of evening sacrifice.
Bowing their knees, those lowly friends, of Christ;
Deliverance ask. In a great silence, Albion,
With sceptre, toucht to Sena's steepling cliff;
That nods, parts forth, then, ruins to sea-shore!
Whence risen great billow, lifts, to large, their vessel.
Hoised sail, steers Ithobal from that horrid coast;
Whence dreadful yells sound, that agrise their hearts:
And now the sun sets, on wide glooming waves.
But long gleam Sena's firebrands in the night.
Deliverance ask. In a great silence, Albion,
With sceptre, toucht to Sena's steepling cliff;
That nods, parts forth, then, ruins to sea-shore!
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Hoised sail, steers Ithobal from that horrid coast;
Whence dreadful yells sound, that agrise their hearts:
And now the sun sets, on wide glooming waves.
But long gleam Sena's firebrands in the night.
They drive then, forth, three days; when, from ship's board,
They see new loom of coast, on their right hand.
But when begins fourth morrow, now, to break,
Twixt Gaulish isles, which named in Ithobal's card,
The Säides, they fleet: but set them currents,
Soon, o'er, to greater isles; which Sarnia hight,
And Cæsarea; where surging eddies run,
Like cataracts, round about sharp ribs of whinstone.
There many are huge pight stones seen, on green mounds,
The monuments of some antique salvage nation.
They see new loom of coast, on their right hand.
But when begins fourth morrow, now, to break,
Twixt Gaulish isles, which named in Ithobal's card,
The Säides, they fleet: but set them currents,
Soon, o'er, to greater isles; which Sarnia hight,
And Cæsarea; where surging eddies run,
Like cataracts, round about sharp ribs of whinstone.
There many are huge pight stones seen, on green mounds,
The monuments of some antique salvage nation.
Long, sea-streams waft their carrack, to and fro,
Till even, when a strong South wind outblew;
Which bears them all night o'er high-running billows.
Now dayspring, Ithobal sees certain white cliffs,
Vectis; whereon, sheep-flocks and herdsmen's cotes.
Then Bur-et-Tanac, that vast island coast:
Tin-land, Brettanik sounds, in mouths of Greeks.
Till even, when a strong South wind outblew;
Which bears them all night o'er high-running billows.
Now dayspring, Ithobal sees certain white cliffs,
Vectis; whereon, sheep-flocks and herdsmen's cotes.
Then Bur-et-Tanac, that vast island coast:
Tin-land, Brettanik sounds, in mouths of Greeks.
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Britain looks, silent, from the morning mist,
Expecting the redemption of her children!
Expecting the redemption of her children!
All day their hearts, in prayer, to Christ, are knit.
In calm, they fleet, and gaze on that wide shore;
Which Inis-wen, White-island, of the Gauls.
Them bears now in, under that greater Land,
An evening wind. But, when night glooms, they hear,
With hearts' dismay, (for opened ben their ears,)
Sound griesly shrieks, of rushing fiends, in shore,
That Christ goes by their cliffs! and cannot sleep.
In calm, they fleet, and gaze on that wide shore;
Which Inis-wen, White-island, of the Gauls.
Them bears now in, under that greater Land,
An evening wind. But, when night glooms, they hear,
With hearts' dismay, (for opened ben their ears,)
Sound griesly shrieks, of rushing fiends, in shore,
That Christ goes by their cliffs! and cannot sleep.
Was Bur-et-Tanac, Ithobal tells, of old
Time, land of giants. Come day, their wind-borne carrack,
By cliffs, fleets Westward forth, and covert woods.
Oft plotted fields they see, cotes and plough beasts:
Then some, 'lone fisher, in his bascad boat;
(Like sea-fowl's nest, which swims on wide salt flood,)
That, with his spear, strikes fish. The brethren mark,
They ben themselves unseen, whereas they pass!
Time, land of giants. Come day, their wind-borne carrack,
By cliffs, fleets Westward forth, and covert woods.
Oft plotted fields they see, cotes and plough beasts:
Then some, 'lone fisher, in his bascad boat;
(Like sea-fowl's nest, which swims on wide salt flood,)
That, with his spear, strikes fish. The brethren mark,
They ben themselves unseen, whereas they pass!
By many a foreland, and by many a ness;
By many a bay, they fleet, and river's mouth.
The fifth day, driving, nigh Britannic coast;
They fall, at ebb, mongst holms, where dies the wind.
Eftsoon made fast their ship to wrack-swart rocks,
Men leap to land: where Cypriots gather eggs,
Of fowl, whence ring these skerries, with wild cries;
And salads pluck the saints, in sappy grass.
By many a bay, they fleet, and river's mouth.
The fifth day, driving, nigh Britannic coast;
They fall, at ebb, mongst holms, where dies the wind.
Eftsoon made fast their ship to wrack-swart rocks,
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Of fowl, whence ring these skerries, with wild cries;
And salads pluck the saints, in sappy grass.
These isles, deems Ithobal, are Œstrymnides,
Or Sigdeles; where pilots of tin ships,
Have seen a people dwelling, without use
Of money; but wont trade to nigh mainland:
Where men of stature, giants, with mighty arms,
Have delved deep pits, and mountains overthrown.
Go clad those islanders, in swart solemn stoles,
Of lawn, aye bearing long wands in their hands;
And is, of goats' milk, their most sustenance:
And booths, of their beasts' fells, have those for bowers;
Who winter-long, whenas no shipfare, sleep.
Is, also, fame, strange custom mongst them, holds;
(Those hating eld,) when man's first age is spent;
In hope of some new birth, to happier life,
Taking each other's hands, many, from cliff,
Hangs o'er wild waves, with cry to saviour gods,
Down-leap! so die they, drenched, in salt sea-deep.
Or Sigdeles; where pilots of tin ships,
Have seen a people dwelling, without use
Of money; but wont trade to nigh mainland:
Where men of stature, giants, with mighty arms,
Have delved deep pits, and mountains overthrown.
Go clad those islanders, in swart solemn stoles,
Of lawn, aye bearing long wands in their hands;
And is, of goats' milk, their most sustenance:
And booths, of their beasts' fells, have those for bowers;
Who winter-long, whenas no shipfare, sleep.
Is, also, fame, strange custom mongst them, holds;
(Those hating eld,) when man's first age is spent;
In hope of some new birth, to happier life,
Taking each other's hands, many, from cliff,
Hangs o'er wild waves, with cry to saviour gods,
Down-leap! so die they, drenched, in salt sea-deep.
All turned, with rising tide, again to ship;
Them wafts now misty wind, with rain, all night.
And they, at dawning ray, Belerion leave,
Last End-of-land. Next day, Ierne's coast,
Christ's little flock see; and salute, with Peace!
Land of green meadows, at world's utmost brink.
Them wafts now misty wind, with rain, all night.
And they, at dawning ray, Belerion leave,
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Christ's little flock see; and salute, with Peace!
Land of green meadows, at world's utmost brink.
From Erinn seas, great Albion shapes their course,
To Britain in. They, night-time, Lundy pass,
Whence, like to stars in heaven; in deep sea-streams,
Ten thousand burning lamps seem light their path:
The angel speeds their ship, the saints sleep fast.
Ere dawn, now, Albion, in a river's mouth,
Them guides: appearing then, in dream, to Joseph,
He signifies the end of their ship-voyage.
To Britain in. They, night-time, Lundy pass,
Whence, like to stars in heaven; in deep sea-streams,
Ten thousand burning lamps seem light their path:
The angel speeds their ship, the saints sleep fast.
Ere dawn, now, Albion, in a river's mouth,
Them guides: appearing then, in dream, to Joseph,
He signifies the end of their ship-voyage.
| The Dawn in Britain | |