The Dawn in Britain by Charles M. Doughty |
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| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. | BOOK X |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
 | The Dawn in Britain |  |
61
BOOK X
62
ARGUMENT
Kowain conveys the brethren, with guard of spears, by night-time, for safety, to deep woods. The third even, he brings them on, to king Duneda, in the field. Lay of Melyn, the king's bard. Duneda, parting, dismisseth the shipwrecked strangers, with kindness, to their journey.
A grange of the king's husbandmen. The body of Llys is found rent, by wolves. The brethren come to Avalon. The outlaws' hall. Keth one of the Silures' captives. Keth's tale. Hyn the outlaws' magistrate; who gathers young men to build, the strangers, hall and bowers. A water-hamlet, in the lake. Blind Sigon and his son, Cuan, singer to the harp of Erinn.
Word is brought, to Avalon, of the king's warfare. Shalum ears and sows. Story of the lady Keina. Ithobal builds an hall of prayer. Malchus languishes, in Avalon. Story of his life: his death and burial.
Carvilios, noble bard of Gaul, sings in Caer Verulam. After Togodumnos, Caratacus, his other son, is sent by Cunobelin, Lord of Britain, ambassador unto Cæsar. Bericos and Adminius, princely exiles from Isle Britain, dwell in Rome; where, Caligula slain, is emperor, now, his uncle Claudius.
Adminius, in Rome, lies sick of a fever. The dying prince asks forgiveness of his father's house. Embla, (daughter of Briton Dumnoveros, and friend of Octavia, Cæsar's daughter, is borne homeward, in the twilight, from Claudius' palace. Her litter's train, being riotously molested, by revellers, in the Roman street: she, noble Briton maiden, is saved, by the strong hand of prince Caratacus.
Dumnoveros and Caratacus are made friends. Embla, unveiled in her father's house, cures the prince's wound. Death of Adminius, and his public funerals.
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Late, the same night; when sleeping, now, the dune,
Kowain, according to Duneda's word,
The saints leads forth; and that with guard of spears;
Convey them, erst, to certain forest place:
The second morrow, bring them to him on;
Where he, in field, at sanctuary holm,
Doth purpose sup. Kowain, passed Isca gates,
Them upland leads; till goes the moon to rest.
Kowain, according to Duneda's word,
The saints leads forth; and that with guard of spears;
Convey them, erst, to certain forest place:
The second morrow, bring them to him on;
Where he, in field, at sanctuary holm,
Doth purpose sup. Kowain, passed Isca gates,
Them upland leads; till goes the moon to rest.
Weary the holy women, then, to wend;
In holt they lodge; where sweet green hazel boughs,
Be them, for bowers. They, without fear, there pass
That day and morrow next, till afternoon.
In holt they lodge; where sweet green hazel boughs,
Be them, for bowers. They, without fear, there pass
That day and morrow next, till afternoon.
Through wood-glades, then, prince Kowain brings them on,
To croft; where well and cragged holy holm;
In whose old arms, hang, (superstitious gifts,
Of Britons,) horns of beasts and fluttering clouts.
Beneath that large pavilion of sheen leaves,
On mossy mould, lo, hassog
mats displayed.
And here should come the king, to sup, from Isca.
Where now they halt; there lies, already slain,
A four-years' steer; and pleasant smell goes up,
Of roast; for cooks broil, yonder, at long hearths,
The fat. The saints here safe, till set of sun,
Await. Day glooming, shouted is, the chariots
Of king Duneda; and lords, with him, approach!
To croft; where well and cragged holy holm;
In whose old arms, hang, (superstitious gifts,
Of Britons,) horns of beasts and fluttering clouts.
Beneath that large pavilion of sheen leaves,
64
And here should come the king, to sup, from Isca.
Where now they halt; there lies, already slain,
A four-years' steer; and pleasant smell goes up,
Of roast; for cooks broil, yonder, at long hearths,
The fat. The saints here safe, till set of sun,
Await. Day glooming, shouted is, the chariots
Of king Duneda; and lords, with him, approach!
The sire now lights, in a war-glittering harness,
And kindly greets, (that him salute!) the strangers;
And calls, next him, to sit, in honoured place,
Among his captains. Sit, beyond, ringed round,
Duneda's champions, hundred men-at-arms.
Bear sewers in, then, loaves, in bascads white,
And flesh, on burdock leaves. And the king eats,
And lords and saints. And when, sith, on their hands,
Have water poured, the king's young men-at-arms;
They curmi and metheglyn, unto all, bear around.
And kindly greets, (that him salute!) the strangers;
And calls, next him, to sit, in honoured place,
Among his captains. Sit, beyond, ringed round,
Duneda's champions, hundred men-at-arms.
Bear sewers in, then, loaves, in bascads white,
And flesh, on burdock leaves. And the king eats,
And lords and saints. And when, sith, on their hands,
Have water poured, the king's young men-at-arms;
They curmi and metheglyn, unto all, bear around.
In this, in the twilight, are nighing seen,
With speckled hoods and cloaks of gaudy green;
Men, bearing shields and spears: some Duffreynt bards,
Are those, that purpose to Duneda's wars.
Who leads them, is bold Melyn, royal bard;
That can both chant and fight. Of kings and warriors,
Each eve, should these sing the proud battle deeds;
In mortal tempest of swift shields and spears.
The king, to call those bards, to sup, sends Kamlan.
With speckled hoods and cloaks of gaudy green;
Men, bearing shields and spears: some Duffreynt bards,
65
Who leads them, is bold Melyn, royal bard;
That can both chant and fight. Of kings and warriors,
Each eve, should these sing the proud battle deeds;
In mortal tempest of swift shields and spears.
The king, to call those bards, to sup, sends Kamlan.
Sith, when have those well-drunken the lord's mead;
Duneda spake to Melyn, one whose arm,
Bears brazen targe, his right hand two sharp javelins;
And are his hardy looks, to warfare, stained,
With woad: yet, backward, hanging, at his nape,
From silver lace, a gentle crowth, behold.
Duneda spake to Melyn, one whose arm,
Bears brazen targe, his right hand two sharp javelins;
And are his hardy looks, to warfare, stained,
With woad: yet, backward, hanging, at his nape,
From silver lace, a gentle crowth, behold.
Well couth he it touch, with heavenly piercing note,
Before Dumnonians, entering into fight.
Yet hath a warrior's praise, this, to hurl darts;
And lightfoot, to outrun the enemies' chariots.
But passing all, is, (the gods' gift, to few,
Whom they much love,) his skill of making well.
Before Dumnonians, entering into fight.
Yet hath a warrior's praise, this, to hurl darts;
And lightfoot, to outrun the enemies' chariots.
But passing all, is, (the gods' gift, to few,
Whom they much love,) his skill of making well.
Duneda spake, that Melyn sing some lay,
Which breathed, in him, the gods. He would it were,
Of Avalon's isles; and namely of sacred Alban.
When Melyn took his rote, from off his neck,
Trembled the strings, stirred of a warbeling wind.
Then swelled the vates' breast, wherein there falls
Prophetic murmur, spirit of sweet song.
Of all the bards, whom nourisheth king Duneda,
First named, and for he elder is, is Bladyn;
But none, of Britain's bards, is more than Melyn.
Which breathed, in him, the gods. He would it were,
Of Avalon's isles; and namely of sacred Alban.
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Trembled the strings, stirred of a warbeling wind.
Then swelled the vates' breast, wherein there falls
Prophetic murmur, spirit of sweet song.
Of all the bards, whom nourisheth king Duneda,
First named, and for he elder is, is Bladyn;
But none, of Britain's bards, is more than Melyn.
Now husht sit Britons, when the valiant hands,
Of Melyn, who stands leaning on his targe,
Strook the bright chords, which gave a silver sound,
That thrilled the hearers' ears; and dream their hearts.
Gins Melyn, emuling late chant of Bladyn,
Record, how, in old days, days of the gods,
That wonne, now, in high glassy firmament,
What time, gods dwelled yet, in the world, as kings;
Their divine children came to Avalon god's
Fair garden of apples: unto banquet called,
Of Lîr, who lord is named of the five seas;
Expecting the return of his twelve sons,
That, wooers, in twelve ships, were sailed from Alban.
And set forth was that navy; to bring home,
The twelve affianced daughters of bright isles,
Of Brigida, daughter of the golden sun.
Of Melyn, who stands leaning on his targe,
Strook the bright chords, which gave a silver sound,
That thrilled the hearers' ears; and dream their hearts.
Gins Melyn, emuling late chant of Bladyn,
Record, how, in old days, days of the gods,
That wonne, now, in high glassy firmament,
What time, gods dwelled yet, in the world, as kings;
Their divine children came to Avalon god's
Fair garden of apples: unto banquet called,
Of Lîr, who lord is named of the five seas;
Expecting the return of his twelve sons,
That, wooers, in twelve ships, were sailed from Alban.
And set forth was that navy; to bring home,
67
Of Brigida, daughter of the golden sun.
Then was dark spirits of the aery deep,
(Grudging, because they were not called to feast,)
Transfigured them, to rushing tempests, rive
Their broidered sails; and having numbed, by spells,
The mariners' hearts, amongst vast tumbling billows;
So that the oars fall from their idle hands!
(Grudging, because they were not called to feast,)
Transfigured them, to rushing tempests, rive
Their broidered sails; and having numbed, by spells,
The mariners' hearts, amongst vast tumbling billows;
So that the oars fall from their idle hands!
To an isle of strong enchantments, they them cast
That deemed the sons of Lîr, was this the isle,
Of Brigida; and they leapt, in haste, to shore,
Out of their keels. But swallows up that deep,
The sand, beneath their feet; and from their ships,
Parts, which behind them burn, that sailed from Alban.
That deemed the sons of Lîr, was this the isle,
Of Brigida; and they leapt, in haste, to shore,
Out of their keels. But swallows up that deep,
The sand, beneath their feet; and from their ships,
Parts, which behind them burn, that sailed from Alban.
Red flames, before them, seen; of the sun's isle,
His crown of rays, they deem: and, with stout heart
Assay, those brethren, break through to their loves.
But kindles all that soil, with glowing heat;
So that they do consume away, as mounts
The sun, with anguish of their mortal part!
His crown of rays, they deem: and, with stout heart
Assay, those brethren, break through to their loves.
But kindles all that soil, with glowing heat;
So that they do consume away, as mounts
The sun, with anguish of their mortal part!
The same hour, in their isle, from thence far off;
Those divine daughters, from their bower of grass,
At dawning ray, already dight, dance forth,
To welcome in their spouses and their loves;
And still, unto their island strand, they watch.
But the envious spirits, which have no power, at all,
In the sun's isle, made seem, by magic spell,
The appearance, in the sea, of ships that sail:
And falsely, of cloud, made seem a clodded strand.
And limned therein, as princes which ascend.
Those divine daughters, from their bower of grass,
At dawning ray, already dight, dance forth,
To welcome in their spouses and their loves;
And still, unto their island strand, they watch.
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In the sun's isle, made seem, by magic spell,
The appearance, in the sea, of ships that sail:
And falsely, of cloud, made seem a clodded strand.
And limned therein, as princes which ascend.
Them veiled the divine maidens, that with joy,
Then, singing, hand in hand, in gracious wise,
Begin, with tinkling feet, dance to their loves.
Till, from cloud-cliffs, them seeming a fast ground,
They, with dread shrieks, fall headlong, to deep shore!
Then, singing, hand in hand, in gracious wise,
Begin, with tinkling feet, dance to their loves.
Till, from cloud-cliffs, them seeming a fast ground,
They, with dread shrieks, fall headlong, to deep shore!
Dagda, (who father of all gods is named,)
That sees the world, in rundle of his targe,
Like a steel glass, these extreme haps beheld;
And sate, somewhile, in doubt. Then Dagda changed,
His son Lîr's sons, to swans of mighty wing!
The daughters of his daughter, Brigida,
To wailful curlews: (whence, are lapwinged fowl,
And swans, held sacred, mongst all tribes of Britons.)
That sees the world, in rundle of his targe,
Like a steel glass, these extreme haps beheld;
And sate, somewhile, in doubt. Then Dagda changed,
His son Lîr's sons, to swans of mighty wing!
The daughters of his daughter, Brigida,
To wailful curlews: (whence, are lapwinged fowl,
And swans, held sacred, mongst all tribes of Britons.)
Then Dagda sent forth, bondman of the gods,
Creef, seed of giants old. Creef was not slain,
In their destruction, being yet a child;
But pity found, at hearthstone of the gods.
Those spirits sleeping, after wicked deed,
Creef, (Hundred-handed, for his immense force,
Named,) took in a sea-cave. Creef, o'er them, cast
Inextricable net of subtle brass!
Which Goibniu forged, artificer of the gods.
Creef, in a sack, them bare forth, on his neck,
To those false isles, and that deceitful cliff;
And hanged, in midst of windy flames, whereas,
Aye-wrathful god of tempest daily breathes,
On hooks; that divine smith, with angry heart,
Wrought; and sith clenched, with sledge of adamant.
Creef, seed of giants old. Creef was not slain,
In their destruction, being yet a child;
But pity found, at hearthstone of the gods.
Those spirits sleeping, after wicked deed,
Creef, (Hundred-handed, for his immense force,
Named,) took in a sea-cave. Creef, o'er them, cast
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Which Goibniu forged, artificer of the gods.
Creef, in a sack, them bare forth, on his neck,
To those false isles, and that deceitful cliff;
And hanged, in midst of windy flames, whereas,
Aye-wrathful god of tempest daily breathes,
On hooks; that divine smith, with angry heart,
Wrought; and sith clenched, with sledge of adamant.
But riding, the next year, with his swan-sons,
In his cloud-chariot, Lîr, mongst watery gods;
To visit Lug, (thus hight is the sun-god,)
With divine cry, that isle spurned with his foot;
And billows overran the magic rock:
And whelmed, wrath of grieved gods, immense salt deep.
His garden of apples, sith, the god defaced.
Riding before salt billows, Lîr them leads,
O'er Alban's plain; and made it mere and fen.
In his cloud-chariot, Lîr, mongst watery gods;
To visit Lug, (thus hight is the sun-god,)
With divine cry, that isle spurned with his foot;
And billows overran the magic rock:
And whelmed, wrath of grieved gods, immense salt deep.
His garden of apples, sith, the god defaced.
Riding before salt billows, Lîr them leads,
O'er Alban's plain; and made it mere and fen.
On Alban knolls, sith, dwelled huge Yotun brood,
Till they, contemners of sky-dwelling gods;
Fighting gainst neighbour giants, of Mendip hills,
Ebar and Chedar and Eriol, soaked with blood,
The soil: and yet gore-stained, that fenny ooze
Is seen; whence Taran them, with venging lightning,
Off-slew. Their corses sunk to the mere's ground,
Half-quick; and sometimes, like wide-flickering flame,
Their ghosts ben seen, yet, flit, o'er the foul fen.
Till they, contemners of sky-dwelling gods;
Fighting gainst neighbour giants, of Mendip hills,
Ebar and Chedar and Eriol, soaked with blood,
The soil: and yet gore-stained, that fenny ooze
Is seen; whence Taran them, with venging lightning,
Off-slew. Their corses sunk to the mere's ground,
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Their ghosts ben seen, yet, flit, o'er the foul fen.
There ended he: all clashing warlike arms,
Applaud and say; it was a golden story.
Reached forth his own war-spear, the king's high hand,
That seemed, with silver rings, some serpent sheen;
Whose gilded tongue, athirst for enemies' gore,
This purple-glooming air doth gride. And sent
It, to the warlike bard, the king, by Kowain;
In sign of his and all these hearers' praise;
And gold, for his dispense, in the king's wars.
Joyed Melyn, in his valiant hands, receiving
The lord's war-gift and purse; and to swart Camulus,
His battle-god, the warrior-bard prays loud,
Might this dart drink, first, the king's enemies' blood!
Applaud and say; it was a golden story.
Reached forth his own war-spear, the king's high hand,
That seemed, with silver rings, some serpent sheen;
Whose gilded tongue, athirst for enemies' gore,
This purple-glooming air doth gride. And sent
It, to the warlike bard, the king, by Kowain;
In sign of his and all these hearers' praise;
And gold, for his dispense, in the king's wars.
Joyed Melyn, in his valiant hands, receiving
The lord's war-gift and purse; and to swart Camulus,
His battle-god, the warrior-bard prays loud,
Might this dart drink, first, the king's enemies' blood!
A certain railing young lord, friend to Aesgar,
Hearing those went to Avalon, under ward,
Quoth, looking on them, still, in 'sdainful wise,
Well were those watery holms, to such, assigned;
Which come from far o'er-seas, gainsay our gods.
In Alban's infect air, might those soon perish!
Mongst barking frogs and outlaws fugitives.
Hearing those went to Avalon, under ward,
Quoth, looking on them, still, in 'sdainful wise,
Well were those watery holms, to such, assigned;
Which come from far o'er-seas, gainsay our gods.
In Alban's infect air, might those soon perish!
Mongst barking frogs and outlaws fugitives.
Now rising the moon's lamp, part the king's men;
And with chief captains, king Duneda, in chariots,
Mounts. He commits, to Amathon's son, again,
Lead-on these strangers, to the holms of Alban;
So beckons, kindly, to the saints, farewell!
And with chief captains, king Duneda, in chariots,
71
Lead-on these strangers, to the holms of Alban;
So beckons, kindly, to the saints, farewell!
With easy and slow pace, the brethren wend,
For follow, feeble-kneed, the holy women.
With the king's spears, prince Kowain softly rides,
Before them. Comes then to the Syrians' ears,
In the night air, grave din of gentile rites:
Druids keep, nightlong, bloody sacrifices!
They cover their pale faces, as they fare.
With bending knees, is sorrow in their souls;
That any should be lost, for whom died Christ!
For follow, feeble-kneed, the holy women.
With the king's spears, prince Kowain softly rides,
Before them. Comes then to the Syrians' ears,
In the night air, grave din of gentile rites:
Druids keep, nightlong, bloody sacrifices!
They cover their pale faces, as they fare.
With bending knees, is sorrow in their souls;
That any should be lost, for whom died Christ!
Day dawning, at poor stead, now, they arrive,
Of husbandmen, whose these round, wattled, bowers;
Strange in the Syrians' eyes! a royal grange:
Where barn of beams and reeds and cattle-byres.
Are thrall-folk those, saith Kowain, of Duneda.
Fierce Briton hounds are meek, when they approach.
That barn they enter, by an upper floor;
Whereto, upon a bank, ben wains updriven.
There come Duneda's thralls, to salute Kowain.
Of husbandmen, whose these round, wattled, bowers;
Strange in the Syrians' eyes! a royal grange:
Where barn of beams and reeds and cattle-byres.
Are thrall-folk those, saith Kowain, of Duneda.
Fierce Briton hounds are meek, when they approach.
That barn they enter, by an upper floor;
Whereto, upon a bank, ben wains updriven.
There come Duneda's thralls, to salute Kowain.
The Syrians sit down, weary, amongst heaped halm.
Poor bondwives bring, new-baken, to them soon,
Loaves, of their barley-grist; smooth morrow's milk,
Butter, and honey-combs, of the king's hives;
That seen are, many rows, in this poor place,
Which for purveyance of the royal mead.
Till afternoon, they rest: sith, that poor folk
Bring in their sick ones; for those understood,
Now, of the men-at-arms, the strangers have
A power to save. On them all, Joseph lays,
His healing hands! Plough-oxen stand without,
Yoked unto two light wains. Lo, this one, dight
Is, for the women: that shall bear their stuff;
And corn, in sacks, behold Duneda's gift!
Which may suffice them, till some mean might find
The king, to send those shipwrecked to mainland.
Poor bondwives bring, new-baken, to them soon,
Loaves, of their barley-grist; smooth morrow's milk,
Butter, and honey-combs, of the king's hives;
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Which for purveyance of the royal mead.
Till afternoon, they rest: sith, that poor folk
Bring in their sick ones; for those understood,
Now, of the men-at-arms, the strangers have
A power to save. On them all, Joseph lays,
His healing hands! Plough-oxen stand without,
Yoked unto two light wains. Lo, this one, dight
Is, for the women: that shall bear their stuff;
And corn, in sacks, behold Duneda's gift!
Which may suffice them, till some mean might find
The king, to send those shipwrecked to mainland.
And being now ready, part the men of prayer,
Thence, forth, with blessing of those Britons poor;
To whose gross ears, not come was Aesgar's curse.
They journey, in a fair coast, as Libanus;
By clear brooks, coombs, fresh cowslip lawns, blue woods;
Where bowering, under brier, pale primrose blows.
Thence, forth, with blessing of those Britons poor;
To whose gross ears, not come was Aesgar's curse.
They journey, in a fair coast, as Libanus;
By clear brooks, coombs, fresh cowslip lawns, blue woods;
Where bowering, under brier, pale primrose blows.
Late now is eventide, in Utmost Britain.
How shrills the lark aloft, in lightsome heaven!
What hour were longwhile fallen, in winter season,
Night-murk, on these sheen fields: yet amorous chant,
Of merle, sounds, from yond twilight underwoods!
Fades, the day, dies: seems then to mourn the ground,
In dusky weed. Weary, wayfaring, thus,
Chanting their temple-songs, the Syrian brethren;
To place inhabited, come, another grange;
Stedding of poor herdfolk, Duneda's servants.
They in hall of wattled boughs and crooked studs,
Enter; where bondwives roll the rumbling millstones.
These pause, then, rise up, to serve the king's guests:
Sith, set before them pulse and milk-meat. Sup
The saints, remembering Christ; and so they rest:
But wolves howl, nightlong, dreary, round that place.
How shrills the lark aloft, in lightsome heaven!
What hour were longwhile fallen, in winter season,
Night-murk, on these sheen fields: yet amorous chant,
Of merle, sounds, from yond twilight underwoods!
Fades, the day, dies: seems then to mourn the ground,
73
Chanting their temple-songs, the Syrian brethren;
To place inhabited, come, another grange;
Stedding of poor herdfolk, Duneda's servants.
They in hall of wattled boughs and crooked studs,
Enter; where bondwives roll the rumbling millstones.
These pause, then, rise up, to serve the king's guests:
Sith, set before them pulse and milk-meat. Sup
The saints, remembering Christ; and so they rest:
But wolves howl, nightlong, dreary, round that place.
With the new sun, uprisen, they drink smooth bowls,
Of morrow's milk; so, on their journey, pass.
They were not gone forth, on the dewy bent,
A mile, when word comes shouted back, to Kowain!
Man's poll, (by the hair, ah, horrid sight, he it holds!)
Hath one now founden of his men-at-arms:
Who it casts, then, loathing, to the young lord's feet!
And all men know, that gory grinning face,
That it was Llys! Come running, from nigh knoll,
Men herding flocks, to see this sight, and tell
Thing they had seen: even now, rent his lewd corse,
In pieces, on the field, when they led forth;
Nor gnawed had wolves, at all, his carrion flesh.
Yester, they saw this wight, alive, that passed.
He came and drank of their ewes' milk and quoth;
He sought to kill some enemies of the gods.
The madman bare a great skean, in his belt!
Night fallen, some wretch ran, yelling, by their lodge;
Whom howling scour of wolves, coursed in full chace.
Then, outran all the hinds, with bats and hounds;
Yet might they not that wild hunt overtake,
Nor fray the bloody wolves, with yelling voice.
Of morrow's milk; so, on their journey, pass.
They were not gone forth, on the dewy bent,
A mile, when word comes shouted back, to Kowain!
Man's poll, (by the hair, ah, horrid sight, he it holds!)
Hath one now founden of his men-at-arms:
Who it casts, then, loathing, to the young lord's feet!
And all men know, that gory grinning face,
That it was Llys! Come running, from nigh knoll,
Men herding flocks, to see this sight, and tell
Thing they had seen: even now, rent his lewd corse,
In pieces, on the field, when they led forth;
Nor gnawed had wolves, at all, his carrion flesh.
Yester, they saw this wight, alive, that passed.
He came and drank of their ewes' milk and quoth;
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The madman bare a great skean, in his belt!
Night fallen, some wretch ran, yelling, by their lodge;
Whom howling scour of wolves, coursed in full chace.
Then, outran all the hinds, with bats and hounds;
Yet might they not that wild hunt overtake,
Nor fray the bloody wolves, with yelling voice.
Llys, when he heard those shipwrecked went safe forth,
On whom was that crude ban of Aesgar loost;
Waxed mad, outfared with great snatcht shambles' knife.
From stead, he stalked, to stead, from grange, to cote;
Asking, eachwhere, had men seen, in their path,
Such outlaws? whom might any, finding, kill!
Marked well their wheels' tract, Llys, to slay them, cast,
At unawares; and the innocent oppress!
His mind was, steal upon them, this last night;
When slumbering the king's guard. But the Eye sleeps not
In heaven, which is above the starry night!
On whom was that crude ban of Aesgar loost;
Waxed mad, outfared with great snatcht shambles' knife.
From stead, he stalked, to stead, from grange, to cote;
Asking, eachwhere, had men seen, in their path,
Such outlaws? whom might any, finding, kill!
Marked well their wheels' tract, Llys, to slay them, cast,
At unawares; and the innocent oppress!
His mind was, steal upon them, this last night;
When slumbering the king's guard. But the Eye sleeps not
In heaven, which is above the starry night!
And yet they fare, three days, in upland Britain,
With Amathon's son, and the king's guard of spears;
Shunning, for that ban's curse, all village-steads.
Are cragged these green bents; where their wains, oft,
Might hardly pass. Seem the wide-shining heavens,
Vast golden womb; whose infinite breast low earth;
Where Spring-time's medléd nation is brought forth.
How shining be these lawns, with blissful flowers,
Gladdening their hearts. They view, gainst afternoon,
Mendip; whereunder misty wilderness.
With Amathon's son, and the king's guard of spears;
Shunning, for that ban's curse, all village-steads.
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Might hardly pass. Seem the wide-shining heavens,
Vast golden womb; whose infinite breast low earth;
Where Spring-time's medléd nation is brought forth.
How shining be these lawns, with blissful flowers,
Gladdening their hearts. They view, gainst afternoon,
Mendip; whereunder misty wilderness.
Deep way and foul, before them, lies, henceforth;
Where golden king-cups blow, and marish lilies.
How, to the Syrians' eyes, yond sallows, dim,
Seem olive yards! Shows them, then, Amathon's son,
Broad-gleaming far-off mere, and holms of Avalon!
Towards eve, they come to bourn-stones in the fen;
Whereat, with Kowain, all depose their arms.
They leave the wains there, also, under guard:
Strange smell their nostrils smites, of peaty reek!
When they ascend, unto the outlaws' hill.
Where golden king-cups blow, and marish lilies.
How, to the Syrians' eyes, yond sallows, dim,
Seem olive yards! Shows them, then, Amathon's son,
Broad-gleaming far-off mere, and holms of Avalon!
Towards eve, they come to bourn-stones in the fen;
Whereat, with Kowain, all depose their arms.
They leave the wains there, also, under guard:
Strange smell their nostrils smites, of peaty reek!
When they ascend, unto the outlaws' hill.
Of halm-thatched wattle cabans, lo, poor street;
Echoes to the saints' tread! Few wildered wights,
With rusty glibs, men careless of their good;
As who their hope have, in this deadly place,
Lost, look forth at low doors; and fugitives,
Under blood-ban, are many from their tribes.
Echoes to the saints' tread! Few wildered wights,
With rusty glibs, men careless of their good;
As who their hope have, in this deadly place,
Lost, look forth at low doors; and fugitives,
Under blood-ban, are many from their tribes.
There some, in mire and slough, come, barefoot, forth;
That view, with wondering looks, the strangers pass,
Whom sends Duneda, lord of their poor lives.
So all they wend, to the poor outlaws' hall,
Of clay-cast wattle work, and daubed with lime,
On ground-wall of green sods: where-midst, burns hearth,
Of fenny reeking turves; which squalid wights,
With hollow looks, on peaten stools, sit round.
These all, uprisen, about him, greet prince Kowain,
And some, straw down fresh rushes, for the guests.
Behold, with Kowain, sit, mongst outlaws poor,
Those men of prayer. The Syrian brethren muse,
To see so many of them, with trembling joints!
Whom racks a daily fever of the fen.
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Whom sends Duneda, lord of their poor lives.
So all they wend, to the poor outlaws' hall,
Of clay-cast wattle work, and daubed with lime,
On ground-wall of green sods: where-midst, burns hearth,
Of fenny reeking turves; which squalid wights,
With hollow looks, on peaten stools, sit round.
These all, uprisen, about him, greet prince Kowain,
And some, straw down fresh rushes, for the guests.
Behold, with Kowain, sit, mongst outlaws poor,
Those men of prayer. The Syrian brethren muse,
To see so many of them, with trembling joints!
Whom racks a daily fever of the fen.
With murmur, as of famisht hounds, those watch
The barley-cakes, which gin prince Kowain's men,
Out of their wallets, hungry, take and eat!
Sith, being those given some of their bread and flesh;
Did gnaw even on the bones. Then sends back Kowain,
Unto the wains, bring in the strangers' stuff.
The barley-cakes, which gin prince Kowain's men,
Out of their wallets, hungry, take and eat!
Sith, being those given some of their bread and flesh;
Did gnaw even on the bones. Then sends back Kowain,
Unto the wains, bring in the strangers' stuff.
He in Duneda's name, the shipwrecked strangers,
To this poor folk commending, the king's word,
Leaves said, for Hyn, (who, Avalon's magistrate,
To-day was ferried, in the rushy lake,
Unto another holm;) to entertain
These, as becomes his guests; and measure land,
For them, in the king's field; and seemly bowers,
There, build them. Kowain risen, then, takes his leave.
To this poor folk commending, the king's word,
Leaves said, for Hyn, (who, Avalon's magistrate,
To-day was ferried, in the rushy lake,
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These, as becomes his guests; and measure land,
For them, in the king's field; and seemly bowers,
There, build them. Kowain risen, then, takes his leave.
To the caterfs, he must, before him marched,
Towards Severn, ride with speed. His part it is,
Standing in king Duneda's battle-chariot,
To bear his targe, before the royal breast.
To Alban brow, the saints now bring him forth:
Where, parting, Amathon's son, of wonder-working
Joseph's healing God, a blessing asks;
Of Whom they much had communed, in their path.
Towards Severn, ride with speed. His part it is,
Standing in king Duneda's battle-chariot,
To bear his targe, before the royal breast.
To Alban brow, the saints now bring him forth:
Where, parting, Amathon's son, of wonder-working
Joseph's healing God, a blessing asks;
Of Whom they much had communed, in their path.
Uncheerful fenny damps, sink on their sense;
When they ascend, again, to Alban's hill;
And wend back, lonely, to the outlaws' hall:
Yet not alone, for, in their midst, is Christ!
Where come again; they, with the holy women,
The lady Keina, (veiled in long white stole,)
Find; priestess she of Brigida, light-faced goddess;
That daughter of all-seeing sun, is named.
And as wide-shines the sun, on all the earth;
Strangers, at Brigida's ever-burning hearth,
Are guests; which, three days, there, may eat and rest.
And reverence Keina this poor Alban folk.
When they ascend, again, to Alban's hill;
And wend back, lonely, to the outlaws' hall:
Yet not alone, for, in their midst, is Christ!
Where come again; they, with the holy women,
The lady Keina, (veiled in long white stole,)
Find; priestess she of Brigida, light-faced goddess;
That daughter of all-seeing sun, is named.
And as wide-shines the sun, on all the earth;
Strangers, at Brigida's ever-burning hearth,
Are guests; which, three days, there, may eat and rest.
And reverence Keina this poor Alban folk.
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Sith, brought-in Keina, waterhens' wild eggs,
And flummery and fish, the best of their poor diet;
Them sets before the saints. The holy women,
Moreo'er, bids Keina, to continue, with her,
Till day when builded were their bowers and house.
And flummery and fish, the best of their poor diet;
Them sets before the saints. The holy women,
Moreo'er, bids Keina, to continue, with her,
Till day when builded were their bowers and house.
To those poor outlaws, which, before them, sit;
Through Pistos' mouth, speak words of life and peace,
The brethren: and how from a far-off coast,
To Duffreynt, they arrived, in broken ship.
Upspake then one, whose polled head fugitive
Him shows, saying, These were they which healed our wounds;
And when we 'scaped, opened our prison doors,
In wonder-wise, man like the stranger Joseph!
Through Pistos' mouth, speak words of life and peace,
The brethren: and how from a far-off coast,
To Duffreynt, they arrived, in broken ship.
Upspake then one, whose polled head fugitive
Him shows, saying, These were they which healed our wounds;
And when we 'scaped, opened our prison doors,
In wonder-wise, man like the stranger Joseph!
Was he of the war-captives, which thus speaks,
Keth, yet, with fading woad, his warlike face,
Stained. Keth tells, briefly; from the falling stream,
They, gone to shore, them hid, all that day's sun,
In a sea-cave. They, sith, raught Moridunion;
Where Durotriges' king, stout Golam, dwells;
Friend to Duneda: of whom, they being afraid,
Before the dayspring, entered in the house,
Of certain chapman, that, for hides and wool,
And beasts, wont traffic to Silures' coasts:
And, this foreyear, had one of theirs him saved;
Tempting, in storm, a freshet stream to pass.
Wherefore the man them hid, under neats' hides,
And fleeces, there, two days. He night-time, sith,
By twos and threes, had, privily, sent them forth.
Keth, yet, with fading woad, his warlike face,
Stained. Keth tells, briefly; from the falling stream,
They, gone to shore, them hid, all that day's sun,
In a sea-cave. They, sith, raught Moridunion;
Where Durotriges' king, stout Golam, dwells;
Friend to Duneda: of whom, they being afraid,
Before the dayspring, entered in the house,
Of certain chapman, that, for hides and wool,
And beasts, wont traffic to Silures' coasts:
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Tempting, in storm, a freshet stream to pass.
Wherefore the man them hid, under neats' hides,
And fleeces, there, two days. He night-time, sith,
By twos and threes, had, privily, sent them forth.
Then they, like wild boars, wallowed in a fen;
Whence, ochre-dyed, them knew not any man.
By hill-side, moor and forest, went they on,
Till light of day. Sith parted, in three bands,
By only night, they passed, through places waste.
Last, all they reached, with hard and evil hap,
Through Durotriges' wilds, to craggéd cave,
Which in high Mendip; whereas, other days,
Like wolves, they lived, by nightly stealth of flocks.
Whence, ochre-dyed, them knew not any man.
By hill-side, moor and forest, went they on,
Till light of day. Sith parted, in three bands,
By only night, they passed, through places waste.
Last, all they reached, with hard and evil hap,
Through Durotriges' wilds, to craggéd cave,
Which in high Mendip; whereas, other days,
Like wolves, they lived, by nightly stealth of flocks.
One morn, night to sea-coast, they descried ship;
Them seemed, much like some pirate-keel of Erinn.
They saw men row, to land: and drawn, sith, up,
Their vessel, an armed folk ascend from strand.
Then hoping, we, quoth Keth, to save us home,
By sea, fell on their ship's guard, from nigh wood;
With stones and staves, and slew them: but in fight,
With those, there fell two, by their arrows, slain,
Of ours: and I, third, thrilled of hurled iron spear,
Was left, for dead, fallen, bleeding, on that shore.
The rest, (which, hastily had launched, and climbed aboard;
And hoised-up leathern sail,) bare forth the wind.
Which seen, came again running, to that strand,
The pirate sea-folk: one of whom me smote,
With cudgyl, out of sense. Waked, in night cold,
From swoon, I, in bleak moonshine, saw no man.
Training, in hostile land, these limbs, the third
Day, I, little lack of dead, raught Sacred Alban!
Keth, touched then Joseph's healing hands, besought,
He would assuage this his much rankling smart.
Them seemed, much like some pirate-keel of Erinn.
They saw men row, to land: and drawn, sith, up,
Their vessel, an armed folk ascend from strand.
Then hoping, we, quoth Keth, to save us home,
By sea, fell on their ship's guard, from nigh wood;
With stones and staves, and slew them: but in fight,
With those, there fell two, by their arrows, slain,
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Was left, for dead, fallen, bleeding, on that shore.
The rest, (which, hastily had launched, and climbed aboard;
And hoised-up leathern sail,) bare forth the wind.
Which seen, came again running, to that strand,
The pirate sea-folk: one of whom me smote,
With cudgyl, out of sense. Waked, in night cold,
From swoon, I, in bleak moonshine, saw no man.
Training, in hostile land, these limbs, the third
Day, I, little lack of dead, raught Sacred Alban!
Keth, touched then Joseph's healing hands, besought,
He would assuage this his much rankling smart.
Loud named the name of Jesus, Joseph said,
In looking up to heaven, Be whole! and was
Healed the man's sore. Then cried out some poor Briton;
The gods be come, in our days, unto Alban!
In looking up to heaven, Be whole! and was
Healed the man's sore. Then cried out some poor Briton;
The gods be come, in our days, unto Alban!
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Dawing new morn, this people's magistrate,
From making circuit in the rushy lake,
Comes, in a bascad boat; which, on his back,
To door, Hyn dripping bears, of their moot-hall.
He, erst, cast, towards the brethren, troubled looks;
Strangers and shipwrecked, from far unkenned coast!
But heard the words of Kowain, he salutes
Them, come from king Duneda: and Hyn assigns
Them, daily rate of fish, out of the lake.
From making circuit in the rushy lake,
Comes, in a bascad boat; which, on his back,
To door, Hyn dripping bears, of their moot-hall.
He, erst, cast, towards the brethren, troubled looks;
Strangers and shipwrecked, from far unkenned coast!
But heard the words of Kowain, he salutes
Them, come from king Duneda: and Hyn assigns
Them, daily rate of fish, out of the lake.
Come morrow's day; Hyn, through the holm of Avalon,
Gathers young men; which bowers should frame, and hall,
For those strange guests. Made even, then, a fair plot,
In the king's orchard; they, in circuit, pight
Lopped alder studs; whereon, with osier-wands,
They weave round bowers; and tress, as Britons use,
A seemly hall: conducted to man's height,
They raise, and underprop, the hollow thatch;
And, with thick sedges, bind; and sith clay-cast
The house. Now, towards his setting, the sixth sun,
Before the Sabbath rest; the Syrian brethren
Enter unto their own, and God give thanks:
And that loud temple-chant, in stranger tongue,
The outlaws throng to hear, which they intone.
Gathers young men; which bowers should frame, and hall,
For those strange guests. Made even, then, a fair plot,
In the king's orchard; they, in circuit, pight
Lopped alder studs; whereon, with osier-wands,
They weave round bowers; and tress, as Britons use,
A seemly hall: conducted to man's height,
They raise, and underprop, the hollow thatch;
And, with thick sedges, bind; and sith clay-cast
The house. Now, towards his setting, the sixth sun,
Before the Sabbath rest; the Syrian brethren
Enter unto their own, and God give thanks:
And that loud temple-chant, in stranger tongue,
The outlaws throng to hear, which they intone.
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Conversing thus the saints, in fenny Alban,
They give themselves, to learn the Britons' tongue.
The holy women labour, weaving wool,
Prepare them winter cloth. To priestess Keina,
At her much bidding, Syrian country skill,
They teach; gainst winter, (which, here, rude and waste,
Wherein this people faint,) press curded milk,
To cheese; and cure their marish fish, with salt.
They give themselves, to learn the Britons' tongue.
The holy women labour, weaving wool,
Prepare them winter cloth. To priestess Keina,
At her much bidding, Syrian country skill,
They teach; gainst winter, (which, here, rude and waste,
Wherein this people faint,) press curded milk,
To cheese; and cure their marish fish, with salt.
Is there a water-hamlet, in the lake,
Like to an holm; but laid, (the guise of Erinn,)
On thick pile-work. Their fathers, in old days,
Came hither, from o'er seas, in wattle-barks;
Led by their bards; guests of the Alban gods.
But when, no soil, to them, for seat, was given;
Those, (taught, is fame, of beavers in the fen,)
Hewed sallows; and, with mauls, their sharp pilebeams,
Beat, in a shoaling ooze, by the mere's side:
Whereon, they timbered, of the shining reeds,
(And did clay-cast within,) round fisher-bowers.
Like to an holm; but laid, (the guise of Erinn,)
On thick pile-work. Their fathers, in old days,
Came hither, from o'er seas, in wattle-barks;
Led by their bards; guests of the Alban gods.
But when, no soil, to them, for seat, was given;
Those, (taught, is fame, of beavers in the fen,)
Hewed sallows; and, with mauls, their sharp pilebeams,
Beat, in a shoaling ooze, by the mere's side:
Whereon, they timbered, of the shining reeds,
(And did clay-cast within,) round fisher-bowers.
In their hands, is a dyers' art of Erinn,
In line and wool. They mingle the swart hews,
Of alder rind, the yellow, of sambuc berries;
The ruddy, of crottle-moss. Howbeit, most set,
In music's sacred skill, is their delight;
To weave the trembling chords of Erinn's crowth.
In line and wool. They mingle the swart hews,
Of alder rind, the yellow, of sambuc berries;
The ruddy, of crottle-moss. Howbeit, most set,
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To weave the trembling chords of Erinn's crowth.
Is this that Avalon, (Alban of the gods),
Holms of the dead; being those accounted dead,
Which therein dwell, men outlaws, fugitives.
But, in the hallowed precinct of the place,
Pale of the gods, may there none dead be laid.
Holms of the dead; being those accounted dead,
Which therein dwell, men outlaws, fugitives.
But, in the hallowed precinct of the place,
Pale of the gods, may there none dead be laid.
Sith healed was Keth, their sick ones, Avalon Britons
Bring, daily, to the hands of stranger Joseph.
Tremble the most, with agues, and a spirit,
They say, besets them of the rotten fen;
Like hag, with yellow teeth and baleful eyes:
And flickers forth, on deadly wings, the fiend,
By night. That water-hamlet, in the lake,
Men call Cranog. Sigon, who father is,
Of all the water-dwellers; from his youth,
Day hath not seen, but all his world is dark.
Behold his son him brings, in wicker bark,
To Joseph: who him, taking by the hand,
Spake; Be thou of good comfort! The saint toucht
His eyeballs old; and they see heaven's light.
And, without succour, sith, went Sigon forth;
Confusedly murmuring, to his gods and Joseph,
Thanks, gladness, (seeing!) unto his bascad boat.
Bring, daily, to the hands of stranger Joseph.
Tremble the most, with agues, and a spirit,
They say, besets them of the rotten fen;
Like hag, with yellow teeth and baleful eyes:
And flickers forth, on deadly wings, the fiend,
By night. That water-hamlet, in the lake,
Men call Cranog. Sigon, who father is,
Of all the water-dwellers; from his youth,
Day hath not seen, but all his world is dark.
Behold his son him brings, in wicker bark,
To Joseph: who him, taking by the hand,
Spake; Be thou of good comfort! The saint toucht
His eyeballs old; and they see heaven's light.
And, without succour, sith, went Sigon forth;
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Thanks, gladness, (seeing!) unto his bascad boat.
But who his son continues with the saints,
Gazing, with reverence, on their heavenly looks.
He hears them marvellous things, of Christ, relate!
And this is Cuan, singer to the harp.
Sends aged Sigon, back, from the cranog,
A present, from his hand, wild honey-combs,
And linen cloth, unto the men of God.
Gazing, with reverence, on their heavenly looks.
He hears them marvellous things, of Christ, relate!
And this is Cuan, singer to the harp.
Sends aged Sigon, back, from the cranog,
A present, from his hand, wild honey-combs,
And linen cloth, unto the men of God.
Come in to Avalon, have the brethren word,
Of the king's warfare. Dobuni and Durotriges,
Assembled, with their kings, unto Duneda;
Towards Hafren, thence, had marched. Silures stood,
With their allies, all, on the counter shore.
But rained incessantly had the winter-gods:
So that might neither pass vast rushing flood;
And each host troubled many adverse omens!
Then fortuned a new case, Cunobelin's son,
With whom ride Verulam lords, by night-time, come,
With thousand spears, that river's ford beset.
One lord of war, sith days of Cassiobellan,
(When Julius passed Kent-seas, with conquering legions,)
From sire to son, have all tribes of South Britain.
Also, his grandson, great Cunobelin,
(Who king in Catuvelaunian royal Verulam;)
Now Warden is, and warlord of South Britain.
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From sire to son, have all tribes of South Britain.
Also, his grandson, great Cunobelin,
(Who king in Catuvelaunian royal Verulam;)
Now Warden is, and warlord of South Britain.
Caratacus, lo! Cunobelin's other son,
(The elder, Togodumnos, went to Rome,)
Is this tall prince; who, twixt two watchfires, stands,
New kindled, at swift-streaming Severn's strand;
Mongst young lords, lighted from their long-maned steeds,
Now arrived, with him. Hark, then, as day springs,
Loud cry, to the two camps, Cunobelin's heralds!
Caradoc, O kings! Son to the sire Cunobelin,
Word, of the Warlord's mouth, brings from Caer Verulam!
That were observed, on both your armies' parts,
Which would contend, these days, a sacred truce!
Till may be called, and holden parliament,
In the Sun's plain, of all tribes of South Britain!
(The elder, Togodumnos, went to Rome,)
Is this tall prince; who, twixt two watchfires, stands,
New kindled, at swift-streaming Severn's strand;
Mongst young lords, lighted from their long-maned steeds,
Now arrived, with him. Hark, then, as day springs,
Loud cry, to the two camps, Cunobelin's heralds!
Caradoc, O kings! Son to the sire Cunobelin,
Word, of the Warlord's mouth, brings from Caer Verulam!
That were observed, on both your armies' parts,
Which would contend, these days, a sacred truce!
Till may be called, and holden parliament,
In the Sun's plain, of all tribes of South Britain!
Came to him six kings, then, each with his druid,
And ward of spears. Caradoc, Strongarm, declares,
Saluting them; how lately word Cunobelin,
Received from Rome; that, this year, should the legions,
As in old days of warlord Cassiobellan,
Pass o'er to Britain. Merchants from the Main,
The like affirm, which lately came to Cantion.
Wherefore Cunobelin, by their common gods,
To amity, adjures all tribes and Britons' lords;
And to let sleep all forepast enmities.
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Saluting them; how lately word Cunobelin,
Received from Rome; that, this year, should the legions,
As in old days of warlord Cassiobellan,
Pass o'er to Britain. Merchants from the Main,
The like affirm, which lately came to Cantion.
Wherefore Cunobelin, by their common gods,
To amity, adjures all tribes and Britons' lords;
And to let sleep all forepast enmities.
Thus spake, with warlike countenance, and stern voice,
Caradoc; whose stature, and wise warlike worth,
Persuade all hearts. First, rose up king Duneda;
Who, father, prince Caratacus, embraced,
(Son to his ancient friend Cunobelin,) quoth;
He would the hest obey of the Land's Ward!
Uprose Moelmabon, stern Silures' king,
Hoar-haired: and took prince Caradoc, by the hand;
Thereby, assenting to the king Cunobelin.
With these three, joined those other kings right hands,
Two of each part, which came as adversaries.
Drinking together, then, one sacred cup,
Before the gods, kings swear, (one people of Samoth,)
To wage one war, gainst new-invading Romans.
Caradoc; whose stature, and wise warlike worth,
Persuade all hearts. First, rose up king Duneda;
Who, father, prince Caratacus, embraced,
(Son to his ancient friend Cunobelin,) quoth;
He would the hest obey of the Land's Ward!
Uprose Moelmabon, stern Silures' king,
Hoar-haired: and took prince Caradoc, by the hand;
Thereby, assenting to the king Cunobelin.
With these three, joined those other kings right hands,
Two of each part, which came as adversaries.
Drinking together, then, one sacred cup,
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To wage one war, gainst new-invading Romans.
A certain noble bard, with Caradoc, rides,
Of Belges Gauls, Carvilios, far renowned;
Guest now of Britons' lord, in Verulamion.
He, after knit, with solemn feast, accord;
Wherein those kings make common sacrifice,
Touching, with well-taught hand, his golden wires,
Gan warlike lay to chant, with a great voice.
He quoth; Great martial Gaul is thrall to Rome!
Romans, whom oft o'erthrew our fathers old;
And held their town to ransom, Briton Brennus.
What infamy it is, that, now, Gauls serve to Romans,
Their fathers' freedmen! in whose tongues, as women,
And not in warlike deed, lies their most force.
For Romans fight, with wiles, which Gauls despise;
And all in hammered plate, their bodies closed;
And hired men are their soldiers, for base wage:
Gainst whom our naked youth, in vain, contended.
O warlike Brennid kings, O Island Gauls,
What day, embarked Rome's legions, from mainland,
Shall bridge your narrow seas, with thousand keels;
Except all Britons, ready, as one man's sons,
Stand fast in arms, to ward their foster strand;
Look that the like befall this soil of Brennus!
There ceased the Gaulish bard; and Briton lords
Stare on the ground. Sith those six truth-plight kings,
From Hafren's strand, march homeward, with their warriors;
And with Duneda, Caradoc rides to Isca.
Of Belges Gauls, Carvilios, far renowned;
Guest now of Britons' lord, in Verulamion.
He, after knit, with solemn feast, accord;
Wherein those kings make common sacrifice,
Touching, with well-taught hand, his golden wires,
Gan warlike lay to chant, with a great voice.
He quoth; Great martial Gaul is thrall to Rome!
Romans, whom oft o'erthrew our fathers old;
And held their town to ransom, Briton Brennus.
What infamy it is, that, now, Gauls serve to Romans,
Their fathers' freedmen! in whose tongues, as women,
And not in warlike deed, lies their most force.
For Romans fight, with wiles, which Gauls despise;
And all in hammered plate, their bodies closed;
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Gainst whom our naked youth, in vain, contended.
O warlike Brennid kings, O Island Gauls,
What day, embarked Rome's legions, from mainland,
Shall bridge your narrow seas, with thousand keels;
Except all Britons, ready, as one man's sons,
Stand fast in arms, to ward their foster strand;
Look that the like befall this soil of Brennus!
There ceased the Gaulish bard; and Briton lords
Stare on the ground. Sith those six truth-plight kings,
From Hafren's strand, march homeward, with their warriors;
And with Duneda, Caradoc rides to Isca.
Summer is ended: gins now season sad,
When nights increased, and weary is the ground;
And hoar dew lies, all day, on the cold grass;
And falls the flickering leaf. Then Shalum ears,
On crookéd plough-beam leaned, (plough which, in Alban,
His Syrian hands had wrought,) chill-breathing field:
And shoulder two wain-oxen the tree forth.
And lay of Zion this, in his travail, sings!
When nights increased, and weary is the ground;
And hoar dew lies, all day, on the cold grass;
And falls the flickering leaf. Then Shalum ears,
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His Syrian hands had wrought,) chill-breathing field:
And shoulder two wain-oxen the tree forth.
And lay of Zion this, in his travail, sings!
And laid up, is his hope, in heaven; that when
Lent-month's smooth winds shall fill, with tepid showers,
This furrowed glebe, should spring his Briton grain;
And, come to Autumn, yield of corn enough,
That eat the brethren might the blesséd loaf,
In a strange land, of Christ's remembrance, both;
And have, for alms-deed, mongst poor heathen folk.
Lent-month's smooth winds shall fill, with tepid showers,
This furrowed glebe, should spring his Briton grain;
And, come to Autumn, yield of corn enough,
That eat the brethren might the blesséd loaf,
In a strange land, of Christ's remembrance, both;
And have, for alms-deed, mongst poor heathen folk.
Winter long twilight, all by day, in Britain,
With stooping mists, seems to those Syrian brethren.
And, Southing, still, the sun, to a spear's height,
Attains uneath: then seems, in heaven's dim light,
As shrouded corse; whose pale beams shot askance,
Down, on wide-withered field, weak shadows cast.
Then rage out, o'er waste bent, blood-curdling blasts!
Which blow the poplars bare. Silent, from spray,
The small fowl flits, to covert; and all beasts
Go lean and weary, in the empty frost.
With stooping mists, seems to those Syrian brethren.
And, Southing, still, the sun, to a spear's height,
Attains uneath: then seems, in heaven's dim light,
As shrouded corse; whose pale beams shot askance,
Down, on wide-withered field, weak shadows cast.
Then rage out, o'er waste bent, blood-curdling blasts!
Which blow the poplars bare. Silent, from spray,
The small fowl flits, to covert; and all beasts
Go lean and weary, in the empty frost.
Hungry, the outlaws crouch then, in poor hall,
Christ's brethren part to them Duneda's corn,
That rests; nor they have less. Christ's love they teach,
And heavenly light, which shines in their own hearts;
And a New Life, to come, on the wide earth.
Christ's brethren part to them Duneda's corn,
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And heavenly light, which shines in their own hearts;
And a New Life, to come, on the wide earth.
Whilst all, without, lies cold and comfortless,
They pray and heal the sick, in fenny Alban.
And made is whole, now, of long languishment,
The lady Keina, by the hand of Joseph.
She with the holy women, priestess pure,
Converseth, and still, daily, asks, to hear
More, of Christ's Love. Among the noble maids,
Was Keina one that waited on the queen,
Spouse to Duneda, when she came from Erinn.
They pray and heal the sick, in fenny Alban.
And made is whole, now, of long languishment,
The lady Keina, by the hand of Joseph.
She with the holy women, priestess pure,
Converseth, and still, daily, asks, to hear
More, of Christ's Love. Among the noble maids,
Was Keina one that waited on the queen,
Spouse to Duneda, when she came from Erinn.
After the queen, (the white-armed Havisa,)
Fairest, in Isca, was accounted Keina.
Then she, to Flan, nigh kinsman to Duneda,
Being joined, in happy marriage, mother was
Of sons. Sith widowed Keina was, alas!
When leading Flan, in battle, the king's warriors,
He foremost fell. In Keina's desolate house,
Sith was; when each one nighed his manly age,
A pining sickness took him, and increased,
In all his limbs; insomuch, that, ere ended
A full year, he, too, in her arms, deceased!
Fairest, in Isca, was accounted Keina.
Then she, to Flan, nigh kinsman to Duneda,
Being joined, in happy marriage, mother was
Of sons. Sith widowed Keina was, alas!
When leading Flan, in battle, the king's warriors,
He foremost fell. In Keina's desolate house,
Sith was; when each one nighed his manly age,
A pining sickness took him, and increased,
In all his limbs; insomuch, that, ere ended
A full year, he, too, in her arms, deceased!
And yet did her remain, an only son.
Then, Keina, all days, for this last, the sun,
Besought; she, all nights, sought the starry gods:
And as the needy stretch lean palms, for alms,
So she upcast, to heaven, her tear-worn face!
And to soothsayers, sought Keina, and to wise druids.
From whom returning, to her desolate house,
Departed her son's spirit! She, in night-murk,
Then ran forth, frantic, from abodes of men;
Till, last, in wild moor, she fell down, aswoon;
And lay till dawn: when driving, that way, down,
From the hills, their flocks, some herdfolk poor found Keina!
And they her bare in then, as dead, to Isca;
Where languished, longwhile, Keina, in Havisa's bower;
Aye driven in spirit, as one beside her mind.
And for she most, of women, hapless was;
An extreme passion, on her, daily, seized.
Duneda, at Havisa's asking, after this,
Made Keina Brigida's priestess, light-faced goddess.
Healing, from heaven, now, all her harm allays.
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Besought; she, all nights, sought the starry gods:
And as the needy stretch lean palms, for alms,
So she upcast, to heaven, her tear-worn face!
And to soothsayers, sought Keina, and to wise druids.
From whom returning, to her desolate house,
Departed her son's spirit! She, in night-murk,
Then ran forth, frantic, from abodes of men;
Till, last, in wild moor, she fell down, aswoon;
And lay till dawn: when driving, that way, down,
From the hills, their flocks, some herdfolk poor found Keina!
And they her bare in then, as dead, to Isca;
Where languished, longwhile, Keina, in Havisa's bower;
Aye driven in spirit, as one beside her mind.
And for she most, of women, hapless was;
An extreme passion, on her, daily, seized.
Duneda, at Havisa's asking, after this,
Made Keina Brigida's priestess, light-faced goddess.
Healing, from heaven, now, all her harm allays.
Longtime, might, not suffice the wicker hall,
Where the saints dwell. Must, on the Sabbath days,
Britons, that come to hear the strangers' hymns,
Stand oft in mire; when snow, or rain, without.
Whence taking Ithobal thought, with reed and line;
He casts, how of just stone and timber work,
To edify a new hall, of prayer, for Christ.
Where the saints dwell. Must, on the Sabbath days,
Britons, that come to hear the strangers' hymns,
Stand oft in mire; when snow, or rain, without.
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He casts, how of just stone and timber work,
To edify a new hall, of prayer, for Christ.
When, to the people of outlaws, this is known;
Men wend forth, gladly, o'er the frozen mere,
For stones; some other to the mount ascend,
To hew down wood. But, delved the frozen ground,
And steined; and laid, of well-trod clay, up walls,
As that shipmaster showed: (his helpers, Phelles,
Pistos and Alexander,) with keen bills,
He, and hoarse saws, then frames, by just assize,
Roof-tree; and Britons lay, of hurdle-work,
And sedges of the lake, thereon, up, thatch.
All brought now to good point, pargets the house,
Ithobal; and limns, with ochre, and pourtrays,
With cunning hand, in his Phœnician wise,
Ships, stars, eyes, rudders. And that star is Christ,
The ship His Church, whose rudder is the Spirit;
That guides souls, into Truth, through world's dark waves.
But the Eye is token of High God above.
Men wend forth, gladly, o'er the frozen mere,
For stones; some other to the mount ascend,
To hew down wood. But, delved the frozen ground,
And steined; and laid, of well-trod clay, up walls,
As that shipmaster showed: (his helpers, Phelles,
Pistos and Alexander,) with keen bills,
He, and hoarse saws, then frames, by just assize,
Roof-tree; and Britons lay, of hurdle-work,
And sedges of the lake, thereon, up, thatch.
All brought now to good point, pargets the house,
Ithobal; and limns, with ochre, and pourtrays,
With cunning hand, in his Phœnician wise,
Ships, stars, eyes, rudders. And that star is Christ,
The ship His Church, whose rudder is the Spirit;
That guides souls, into Truth, through world's dark waves.
But the Eye is token of High God above.
At length, lo, in her time, returns the stork!
Now is the old year's winter-sorrow past.
Ewes yean, in pinfold, green-grown is the grass;
And every ewe hath twins. Is lenten month,
When early riseth day; with liquid voice,
Of throstles, in the thicks; and swallows flit,
From Britons' eaves, o'er Alban mere, aloft.
Then noised, Caligula was, in Rome, cut-off:
And as shire waves dance to a summer strand,
Was heard the nations' laughter, to far Britain!
Now is the old year's winter-sorrow past.
Ewes yean, in pinfold, green-grown is the grass;
And every ewe hath twins. Is lenten month,
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Of throstles, in the thicks; and swallows flit,
From Britons' eaves, o'er Alban mere, aloft.
Then noised, Caligula was, in Rome, cut-off:
And as shire waves dance to a summer strand,
Was heard the nations' laughter, to far Britain!
Son of Cunobelin, noble Togodumnos,
Returned from Rome: but the Red Prince, Adminius,
Yet fugitive dwells. And fled had that Adminius,
From Britain; where, despised his father's age,
Envying his brethren, the king's royal sons,
He cast supplant them, and their sire depose.
Dwells also, in Rome, Icenian Bericos,
King, whom his folk, (strong nation of East-march,
Of the Isle,) expulsed, and warlike Antethrigus,
Returned from Rome: but the Red Prince, Adminius,
Yet fugitive dwells. And fled had that Adminius,
From Britain; where, despised his father's age,
Envying his brethren, the king's royal sons,
He cast supplant them, and their sire depose.
Dwells also, in Rome, Icenian Bericos,
King, whom his folk, (strong nation of East-march,
Of the Isle,) expulsed, and warlike Antethrigus,
Now had conspired those twain, bewray to Cæsar,
Their foster soil: but, still, did Togodumnos,
Being, that time, in great Rome, frustrate them both;
Who went up, bearing, to Rome's temple-hill,
The gold-rayed vowéd crown, which king Cunobelin
Sent, Lord of Britain, to the Latin gods.
For had those, with their traitorous hands of gold,
So wrought, with greedy senators, that a day
Might not be named, wherein should sit the senate,
To hear cause of Cunobelin's embassage.
Their foster soil: but, still, did Togodumnos,
Being, that time, in great Rome, frustrate them both;
Who went up, bearing, to Rome's temple-hill,
The gold-rayed vowéd crown, which king Cunobelin
Sent, Lord of Britain, to the Latin gods.
For had those, with their traitorous hands of gold,
So wrought, with greedy senators, that a day
Might not be named, wherein should sit the senate,
To hear cause of Cunobelin's embassage.
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But slain, Ire-of-the-gods! Caligula Cæsar;
Parted from Rome, repassed prince Togodumnos
High Alps; left, in his room, Caratacus:
Whom had the king, their father, after sent,
(Ere few days, to the city, arrived that prince,)
Finish Cunobelin's business and prefer,
For Britain's peace, a new request to Cæsar;
That he would send back Britain's fugitives.
Parted from Rome, repassed prince Togodumnos
High Alps; left, in his room, Caratacus:
Whom had the king, their father, after sent,
(Ere few days, to the city, arrived that prince,)
Finish Cunobelin's business and prefer,
For Britain's peace, a new request to Cæsar;
That he would send back Britain's fugitives.
Summer is in, when the dear brother Malchus,
Freedman of Mnason, but now heir, with Christ,
Of God's eternal kingdom, languishes,
In misty air of Alban. Malchus, child,
Keeping, (then Mati named,) in stony field,
Of Edom, kids, was reft of Ishmaelites;
Which him, loud weeping, on a camel, bound.
Then driving on, before, their cattle-preys;
The third day, lateward, in East wilderness,
Those robbers, to their hungry booths, arrived.
Freedman of Mnason, but now heir, with Christ,
Of God's eternal kingdom, languishes,
In misty air of Alban. Malchus, child,
Keeping, (then Mati named,) in stony field,
Of Edom, kids, was reft of Ishmaelites;
Which him, loud weeping, on a camel, bound.
Then driving on, before, their cattle-preys;
The third day, lateward, in East wilderness,
Those robbers, to their hungry booths, arrived.
Next moon, when sent those down, to buy breadcorn,
(Selling what camels they had reaved and captives,)
To Mnason's father, merchant-man of grain,
At Gaza, was the bondchild Mati sold:
Who orphan; having none, of his nigh kin,
Which might redeem him; many faithful years,
Served forth his master's house, at the sea-side.
(Selling what camels they had reaved and captives,)
To Mnason's father, merchant-man of grain,
At Gaza, was the bondchild Mati sold:
Who orphan; having none, of his nigh kin,
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Served forth his master's house, at the sea-side.
Past now is Pentecost; and have gathered in
The saints, their harvest, which is tardy, in Britain;
But yieldeth, to these reapers, hundred fold.
They, kneeling, all, his lowly bed around,
Anoint, with oil, now night-time, brother Malchus;
Who speechless, dying, them beholds and smiles.
The saints, their harvest, which is tardy, in Britain;
But yieldeth, to these reapers, hundred fold.
They, kneeling, all, his lowly bed around,
Anoint, with oil, now night-time, brother Malchus;
Who speechless, dying, them beholds and smiles.
At eve, they bare him forth; and his dead face,
Seemeth, even as this sun's setting, radious.
And say, communing mongst them, the Lord's saints;
How, in his ending, had the Lord, to Malchus,
Revealed Himself; showing, that should His kingdom,
Be established, erelong, even in Utmost Britain!
Wherein, (among them, first,) should rest his flesh.
Seemeth, even as this sun's setting, radious.
And say, communing mongst them, the Lord's saints;
How, in his ending, had the Lord, to Malchus,
Revealed Himself; showing, that should His kingdom,
Be established, erelong, even in Utmost Britain!
Wherein, (among them, first,) should rest his flesh.
Follow his bier, the outlaws, to lake side;
Where all take bark, with Hyn, the magistrate:
And row, over the mere, to certain croft;
Where lawful is, to lay who dead in Alban.
Britons, which loved the man, have digged there grave.
Then Pistos spake; how, like to precious seed,
Is this dead corse, till that great day of Christ;
When shall our brother Malchus be upraised!
Where all take bark, with Hyn, the magistrate:
And row, over the mere, to certain croft;
Where lawful is, to lay who dead in Alban.
Britons, which loved the man, have digged there grave.
Then Pistos spake; how, like to precious seed,
Is this dead corse, till that great day of Christ;
When shall our brother Malchus be upraised!
Lo, closed is this first tomb; and all fare forth.
And, hark, how singeth, in his measures, sweet,
The son of Sigon, the high heavenly Rest,
And Malchus, father, gone to blissful place;
Where neither thirst, nor hunger, cold nor aches.
And all take up the burden of his verse,
That o'er the moonlight mere, row, drooping, forth.
Some think, they see stand spirits on lake shore,
And Malchus clothed, in raiment of white light!
Then ferries, each one, silent, to his own.
And, hark, how singeth, in his measures, sweet,
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And Malchus, father, gone to blissful place;
Where neither thirst, nor hunger, cold nor aches.
And all take up the burden of his verse,
That o'er the moonlight mere, row, drooping, forth.
Some think, they see stand spirits on lake shore,
And Malchus clothed, in raiment of white light!
Then ferries, each one, silent, to his own.
But harvest past; when wane the pleasant days,
And wasteful winds make bare the russet woods;
And herdmen fold, in stovers, sere and rough,
One noon, with many more from the cranog,
Again, comes, in frail bark, that agéd Sigon.
In the boat's stem, sits, chanting, his son Cuan,
Of the New Life. And all these wend, to Joseph,
To be baptized. They washed, then, rise from death.
Thus, for one dead, were many made alive.
And wasteful winds make bare the russet woods;
And herdmen fold, in stovers, sere and rough,
One noon, with many more from the cranog,
Again, comes, in frail bark, that agéd Sigon.
In the boat's stem, sits, chanting, his son Cuan,
Of the New Life. And all these wend, to Joseph,
To be baptized. They washed, then, rise from death.
Thus, for one dead, were many made alive.
Read, divine Muse, which, from the shining spheres,
Beholdest, like to dark clot, this Middle-Earth;
And us, man's sinful seed, indwelling flesh;
How Fortune, demon-goddess of proud Rome,
Outstretched her arm, to smite our foster Britain.
Beholdest, like to dark clot, this Middle-Earth;
And us, man's sinful seed, indwelling flesh;
How Fortune, demon-goddess of proud Rome,
Outstretched her arm, to smite our foster Britain.
In Britain, chants the warlike bard Carvilios,
With oak-leaves, crowned, the hazard of the time;
And stirs men's hearts, as stormwinds of the North,
Hurl forth vast waves. The bard sings, in Caer Verulam,
In the king's hall; where, till each night far spent,
Sits, mongst his lords, the sire Cunobelin;
Consulting, for the safety of the Isle.
With oak-leaves, crowned, the hazard of the time;
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Hurl forth vast waves. The bard sings, in Caer Verulam,
In the king's hall; where, till each night far spent,
Sits, mongst his lords, the sire Cunobelin;
Consulting, for the safety of the Isle.
Was Caradoc come, in season of most heat,
Through Gaul Cisalpine, unto gate of Rome;
Whence, after few days, parted Togodumnos;
Whom calls their father, home, to Verulam.
Then days, then many weeks, long moons, they wasted;
Seeking, in vain, an audience of the Senate:
Nor might they, once, come, to the ear of Cæsar;
Who now is Claudius. To Campania, Cæsar
Soon went, by ship, the Summer heats to pass.
And now, in Rome, be left few magistrates:
And Bericos them hath hired, with Britain's gold.
Through Gaul Cisalpine, unto gate of Rome;
Whence, after few days, parted Togodumnos;
Whom calls their father, home, to Verulam.
Then days, then many weeks, long moons, they wasted;
Seeking, in vain, an audience of the Senate:
Nor might they, once, come, to the ear of Cæsar;
Who now is Claudius. To Campania, Cæsar
Soon went, by ship, the Summer heats to pass.
And now, in Rome, be left few magistrates:
And Bericos them hath hired, with Britain's gold.
Erst they in Autumn, to Cunobelin's son,
Respond, by Cæcina's mouth, In Island Britain,
Should answer be returned, to king Cunobelin.
Discerned the People of Rome have, and their Senate,
To send an army, to require that tribute,
Withheld; (which they allege had imposed Julius.)
These words declared, with loud injurious voice;
He bade, The legate of the Lord of Britain,
Part, within space of thirty days, from Rome!
Respond, by Cæcina's mouth, In Island Britain,
Should answer be returned, to king Cunobelin.
Discerned the People of Rome have, and their Senate,
To send an army, to require that tribute,
Withheld; (which they allege had imposed Julius.)
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He bade, The legate of the Lord of Britain,
Part, within space of thirty days, from Rome!
Deliberate Rome's proud consuls, and the Senate;
Should all the world be Rome: that no more Rome,
Through wild irrupting nations, from the North,
Were brought in peril. Chiefly and it behoves,
Cut off the seed of Brennus; whence sprung dukes,
Of barbare hosts, which have o'erthrown Rome's armies.
Should all the world be Rome: that no more Rome,
Through wild irrupting nations, from the North,
Were brought in peril. Chiefly and it behoves,
Cut off the seed of Brennus; whence sprung dukes,
Of barbare hosts, which have o'erthrown Rome's armies.
Moreo'er, then gan incense, in public audience,
The Romans, crying out, one Caius Marcius,
Their tribune, of the house of Marcus Manlius,
With his right arm, their quadrate temple-arx,
Showing; and those same hard outstanding stones,
Whereby climbed, yore, into Tarpean rock,
The Sénones Gauls, Gauls, namely, of Briton Brennus,
Brennus, that burned this City of Romulus,
(Whose sons, then, them redeemed, at price of gold!)
And gore-stained heaps, left Rome's razed streets and walls.
The Romans, crying out, one Caius Marcius,
Their tribune, of the house of Marcus Manlius,
With his right arm, their quadrate temple-arx,
Showing; and those same hard outstanding stones,
Whereby climbed, yore, into Tarpean rock,
The Sénones Gauls, Gauls, namely, of Briton Brennus,
Brennus, that burned this City of Romulus,
(Whose sons, then, them redeemed, at price of gold!)
And gore-stained heaps, left Rome's razed streets and walls.
Hail, double-headed hill Capitoline!
Which sempiternal Destiny hath named,
Head of the nations. Hail yond triple fane!
Hail, august images of great Rome's trine gods!
That angry, erewhile, last weary of their pride,
Cast out, again, from Rome, those Sénones Gauls.
Nor is, I say, even yet, that old reproach,
Redeemed, whilst Isle of Brennus yields no tribute.
I say, no tribute to world-conquering Rome!
Which sempiternal Destiny hath named,
Head of the nations. Hail yond triple fane!
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That angry, erewhile, last weary of their pride,
Cast out, again, from Rome, those Sénones Gauls.
Nor is, I say, even yet, that old reproach,
Redeemed, whilst Isle of Brennus yields no tribute.
I say, no tribute to world-conquering Rome!
Moreo'er marched other swarms, after those swarms,
Cimbers; whose dukes were nephews to old Brennus;
That, slain your consuls, overthrew your armies.
We owe it to our sires, to Rome's great gods;
That pest out of the North, that Cerberus,
In Gaul now tamed, in Britain, to subdue.
Go up, great Roman gods, before the legions!
So shall our prætors lead, in chains, to Rome,
Britannic kings; that, with joy of all Romans,
From yond cliffs, were they hurled! which besieged Brennus!
Cimbers; whose dukes were nephews to old Brennus;
That, slain your consuls, overthrew your armies.
We owe it to our sires, to Rome's great gods;
That pest out of the North, that Cerberus,
In Gaul now tamed, in Britain, to subdue.
Go up, great Roman gods, before the legions!
So shall our prætors lead, in chains, to Rome,
Britannic kings; that, with joy of all Romans,
From yond cliffs, were they hurled! which besieged Brennus!
Mongst Britain's exiles, which are, now, in Rome,
Is Trinobantine, noble, Dumnoveros;
Dubnovelaunos' nephew, whom great Julius
Restored to antique reign of Androgorios.
Him Cassiobellan, Catuvelaunian king,
Had conquered, in old wars, and slain. His son
Sith, Tasciovant, all marches, beyond Thames,
Subdued of Trinobantine Eppilos:
And, save the isles, all Cantion coast he wan;
Isles, whither merchants sail, in Summer ships,
From Gaul, the Britons' tinny ores to lade.
Seized on those isles, then, climbing base Adminius,
By fraud; and ever since, withheld by arms.
Is Trinobantine, noble, Dumnoveros;
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Restored to antique reign of Androgorios.
Him Cassiobellan, Catuvelaunian king,
Had conquered, in old wars, and slain. His son
Sith, Tasciovant, all marches, beyond Thames,
Subdued of Trinobantine Eppilos:
And, save the isles, all Cantion coast he wan;
Isles, whither merchants sail, in Summer ships,
From Gaul, the Britons' tinny ores to lade.
Seized on those isles, then, climbing base Adminius,
By fraud; and ever since, withheld by arms.
Found refuge the expulsed lord Dumnoveros,
Erst, with an Almain king, beyond the Rhine;
Where was his daughter born. The Almain queen,
Her Embla named. But white-browed Melusina,
Her mother, died, in birth of their sweet babe.
Erst, with an Almain king, beyond the Rhine;
Where was his daughter born. The Almain queen,
Her Embla named. But white-browed Melusina,
Her mother, died, in birth of their sweet babe.
Sith Dumnoveros, to the duke of legions,
That river passed; whence sought he sovereign Rome:
Where mad Caligula Cæsar him received.
And Gaius sware; as late he bridged sea-gulf,
He Ocean flood, to Britain, would o'erride;
Displeased, that any, therein, should wear diadem,
Without his license. But scorned Dumnoveros
Mad Gaius; and rejoiced at his swift death.
That river passed; whence sought he sovereign Rome:
Where mad Caligula Cæsar him received.
And Gaius sware; as late he bridged sea-gulf,
He Ocean flood, to Britain, would o'erride;
Displeased, that any, therein, should wear diadem,
Without his license. But scorned Dumnoveros
Mad Gaius; and rejoiced at his swift death.
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That imperator, lately, in a full Senate,
Expounded his intent: in subdued Britain,
Fierce Gauls to plant. In further isle of Erinn,
The German tribes: that, hemmed of boisterous seas,
Those truculent nations, no more, might brast forth.
Had Xerxes hardly bridled Hellespont,
Which liker river is; but he, Rome's Cæsar,
Tyrrhenian seas. Only his godhead's self,
That great Earth-serpent, Ocean's stream, he vaunts,
Could tame. Should he not more be titled Great,
Than half-Greek Alexander, Philip's son;
Which did but women-nations, of the East,
With Macedon's long phalanxed spears, surprise:
But he vast seas, which flow betwixt two worlds;
And Island-Nation of men-giants subdued.
Then, Scythians would he fence, with mighty wall;
Whom none can tame, not even the immortal gods.
For such, quoth he, he would this People and Senate,
Discern him some new honour; as to name him,
New Heracles, or else Second Romulus.
Expounded his intent: in subdued Britain,
Fierce Gauls to plant. In further isle of Erinn,
The German tribes: that, hemmed of boisterous seas,
Those truculent nations, no more, might brast forth.
Had Xerxes hardly bridled Hellespont,
Which liker river is; but he, Rome's Cæsar,
Tyrrhenian seas. Only his godhead's self,
That great Earth-serpent, Ocean's stream, he vaunts,
Could tame. Should he not more be titled Great,
Than half-Greek Alexander, Philip's son;
Which did but women-nations, of the East,
With Macedon's long phalanxed spears, surprise:
But he vast seas, which flow betwixt two worlds;
And Island-Nation of men-giants subdued.
Then, Scythians would he fence, with mighty wall;
Whom none can tame, not even the immortal gods.
For such, quoth he, he would this People and Senate,
Discern him some new honour; as to name him,
New Heracles, or else Second Romulus.
His cares, that Cantion king, to brain-sick Cæsar,
Exposed, responded Galage; he his prayer,
As god, accepted: and, as imperator,
Would vindicate his right, by arms of Rome.
But, in his private art; wherein he, thrice,
Was crowned first driver of imperial Rome,
The Briton king, from Isle renowned for chariots;
He challengeth run, with him, a career.
Howbe vain were vie with him, which hath steeds,
Immortal seed, of swift Sicanian winds;
Such being, that able are his matchless teams,
And he, as Phœbus, standing them to rule!
Through heaven's vast steep, draw day-cart of the sun.
Exposed, responded Galage; he his prayer,
As god, accepted: and, as imperator,
Would vindicate his right, by arms of Rome.
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Was crowned first driver of imperial Rome,
The Briton king, from Isle renowned for chariots;
He challengeth run, with him, a career.
Howbe vain were vie with him, which hath steeds,
Immortal seed, of swift Sicanian winds;
Such being, that able are his matchless teams,
And he, as Phœbus, standing them to rule!
Through heaven's vast steep, draw day-cart of the sun.
Among the princes, exiles from Isle Britain,
Did first fell Bericos persuade mad Cæsar,
Like thunder-god, with lightning in his hand,
Rise, subdue Briton kings. But Gaius slain,
On Rome's new lord, fawns Bericos; and is Claudius
Well-pleased, to hear like words of Red Adminius.
At the imperial knees, they wallow, both!
Did first fell Bericos persuade mad Cæsar,
Like thunder-god, with lightning in his hand,
Rise, subdue Briton kings. But Gaius slain,
On Rome's new lord, fawns Bericos; and is Claudius
Well-pleased, to hear like words of Red Adminius.
At the imperial knees, they wallow, both!
Already Rome's new Cæsar, Claudius, dreams,
Beyond sea-waves, to conquer a new world.
Were named, these days, what legions should invade
Britannia: and merry of his foolish thought,
Waxed Claudius; but Rome's Britons sad and weary;
Even those which late conspired, gainst their own state;
Foreseeing, that, (like as Gaul,) subdued Isle Britain;
Their children should be subject unto Romans.
Britons whom parted their tribes' enmities,
Draw now together; that, at least, might sound,
In their dull ears, sweet homely speech, in Rome.
Beyond sea-waves, to conquer a new world.
Were named, these days, what legions should invade
Britannia: and merry of his foolish thought,
Waxed Claudius; but Rome's Britons sad and weary;
Even those which late conspired, gainst their own state;
Foreseeing, that, (like as Gaul,) subdued Isle Britain;
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Britons whom parted their tribes' enmities,
Draw now together; that, at least, might sound,
In their dull ears, sweet homely speech, in Rome.
Adminius, who was wont, at Camulodunum,
To drink, in wide-mouth horns, the dulcet mead,
Mingled with poignant juice of quicken-berries;
Now drinks deceitful cups, beyond the Alps,
In season of most heat, of blood-red wine:
Drinks drunken; and still drowseth forth his time.
He felt, then, all his inward breast aflame.
Sick, with a fever, on his bed, he lies,
Now, and deadly dreams. Against his fearful soul,
The angry gods send furies, serpents, chains.
He ofttimes cries out, for his father's son,
Caratacus; who, he hears, arrived in Rome.
To drink, in wide-mouth horns, the dulcet mead,
Mingled with poignant juice of quicken-berries;
Now drinks deceitful cups, beyond the Alps,
In season of most heat, of blood-red wine:
Drinks drunken; and still drowseth forth his time.
He felt, then, all his inward breast aflame.
Sick, with a fever, on his bed, he lies,
Now, and deadly dreams. Against his fearful soul,
The angry gods send furies, serpents, chains.
He ofttimes cries out, for his father's son,
Caratacus; who, he hears, arrived in Rome.
Past skill of leech, past hope; last, sends, Adminius
For Caradoc: and of him, who comes, anon,
With sighs, embraced; the prince forgiveness asks;
Confessed, he compassed had his brother's death,
Amidst his voyage; when he, from Rome, should part.
Wherefore, to take his journey, Adminius warns,
By other paths, till he, vast Alps o'erpass.
Then, groaning, he laments, he dies in Rome;
And shall, in Britain, he betrayed, be named,
Of Britons' renowned sire, ignoble son!
(There was a fervent greatness, in his soul,
Though it unrighteous were!) With faint voice, then,
He prayed his brother, his last message bear,
Beseeching pardon, by the saviour gods,
Of their king-father, sire Cunobelin;
That, after funeral flames, were not his soul,
To wander, with the ghosts of parricides,
Condemned, ah, in most dread and darksome place!
For Caradoc: and of him, who comes, anon,
With sighs, embraced; the prince forgiveness asks;
Confessed, he compassed had his brother's death,
Amidst his voyage; when he, from Rome, should part.
Wherefore, to take his journey, Adminius warns,
By other paths, till he, vast Alps o'erpass.
Then, groaning, he laments, he dies in Rome;
And shall, in Britain, he betrayed, be named,
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(There was a fervent greatness, in his soul,
Though it unrighteous were!) With faint voice, then,
He prayed his brother, his last message bear,
Beseeching pardon, by the saviour gods,
Of their king-father, sire Cunobelin;
That, after funeral flames, were not his soul,
To wander, with the ghosts of parricides,
Condemned, ah, in most dread and darksome place!
Then godlike prince Caratacus, a purse,
Takes from his bosom; and he bids Adminius,
Be of good comfort. This, their father, sends,
To signify, for his rebellious part,
Forgiveness, lo, his signet! It receives,
With joy, the dying prince, and long beheld.
So prayed of Caradoc; might be borne, to Britain,
His shorn hair-locks, home, to Caer Verulam:
That laid their father's hands, on them; Cunobelin,
Pronounce, might, the remission of all curse!
Takes from his bosom; and he bids Adminius,
Be of good comfort. This, their father, sends,
To signify, for his rebellious part,
Forgiveness, lo, his signet! It receives,
With joy, the dying prince, and long beheld.
So prayed of Caradoc; might be borne, to Britain,
His shorn hair-locks, home, to Caer Verulam:
That laid their father's hands, on them; Cunobelin,
Pronounce, might, the remission of all curse!
And, (with this ring-gold, on his finger,) burned,
His body; his cinders might, closed in an urn,
Be sent, to be mound-laid, in foster Britain,
Slow-streaming Ver beside; where the chief druids,
Sprinkling the blood, on them, of sacrifices,
Should loose, at length, his soul from punishment.
And, yet, forgiveness of his father's sons,
He, dying, asks: then charged, warn Dumnoveros,
The City he and also Italy, anon, depart;
For cause he did accuse him unto Claudius!
Sith gan he, spent his spirits, some little sleep.
His body; his cinders might, closed in an urn,
Be sent, to be mound-laid, in foster Britain,
Slow-streaming Ver beside; where the chief druids,
Sprinkling the blood, on them, of sacrifices,
Should loose, at length, his soul from punishment.
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He, dying, asks: then charged, warn Dumnoveros,
The City he and also Italy, anon, depart;
For cause he did accuse him unto Claudius!
Sith gan he, spent his spirits, some little sleep.
Then went forth, softly, Caradoc, to the street;
Musing of these things and to breathe the air,
With the companions of his enterprise,
Kevin and Iddon, lords of Verulamion:
And oft those turn, to listen, at the stair!
Musing of these things and to breathe the air,
With the companions of his enterprise,
Kevin and Iddon, lords of Verulamion:
And oft those turn, to listen, at the stair!
It fortuned, that same tide; from Cæsar's palace,
With torches' light, a litter is borne forth,
Of purpled servants of the imperial house:
And they returning, from the lady Octavia,
Which daughter is to Claudius, yet a child;
The daughter, Embla, of Briton Dumnoveros,
Should convey home. Their wont, is daily, thus,
To meet: for the young noble virgins, both,
Are entire friends. And, with the damsel, is
Her Briton nurse. Now, in a neighbour street,
Were risen, from supper, riotous young lords;
That full of wine and surfeit, with great cries,
And ribald song, their wilful way gan hold.
With torches' light, a litter is borne forth,
Of purpled servants of the imperial house:
And they returning, from the lady Octavia,
Which daughter is to Claudius, yet a child;
The daughter, Embla, of Briton Dumnoveros,
Should convey home. Their wont, is daily, thus,
To meet: for the young noble virgins, both,
Are entire friends. And, with the damsel, is
Her Briton nurse. Now, in a neighbour street,
Were risen, from supper, riotous young lords;
That full of wine and surfeit, with great cries,
And ribald song, their wilful way gan hold.
These meet, at a cross-street, with Cæsar's servants;
With whom they, by their torches' reeking light,
Espy veiled women; one, of excellent beauty,
Borne in her litter. Look, then, ruckling, cries
One of the revellers; these Minerva bear;
Out of her temple, have they stolen her!
Or, Herc'les! fellows, gracious Venus is,
Goddess of women's laughter and love's mirth.
Unbuckle slaves! Set down, ye robber knaves,
Undo this curtained casket. Any Roman,
May temple-breakers slay, his fellow cries;
And he those bearers smote. What thing, is this?
Or here is living maid, or virgin goddess;
Yet virgin wot not I, wot only Jove.
I, therefore, I; since both are Wots, am Jove!
But what pernicious thing, thou old Leandugs,
With whimpled leer, art, that, like ambling jade,
Upon three legs, before thy goddess, goes?
Fellows, since all, (he cries,) we cannot have her,
Cast lots, now! Then he laid, who foremost was,
His ribald hand, upon the virgin's litter.
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Espy veiled women; one, of excellent beauty,
Borne in her litter. Look, then, ruckling, cries
One of the revellers; these Minerva bear;
Out of her temple, have they stolen her!
Or, Herc'les! fellows, gracious Venus is,
Goddess of women's laughter and love's mirth.
Unbuckle slaves! Set down, ye robber knaves,
Undo this curtained casket. Any Roman,
May temple-breakers slay, his fellow cries;
And he those bearers smote. What thing, is this?
Or here is living maid, or virgin goddess;
Yet virgin wot not I, wot only Jove.
I, therefore, I; since both are Wots, am Jove!
But what pernicious thing, thou old Leandugs,
With whimpled leer, art, that, like ambling jade,
Upon three legs, before thy goddess, goes?
Fellows, since all, (he cries,) we cannot have her,
Cast lots, now! Then he laid, who foremost was,
His ribald hand, upon the virgin's litter.
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They stagger, lo, together, and contend,
See her veiled beauty. Trembles Embla; is nigh
None to deliver, in her sore distress.
Gin beat those, which resist them, Cæsar's servants!
Small reck they of Claudius, in their drunken mood.
Shrill calls the nurse, then, on her Britain gods,
Red Taran, Belisama, and Camulus!
See her veiled beauty. Trembles Embla; is nigh
None to deliver, in her sore distress.
Gin beat those, which resist them, Cæsar's servants!
Small reck they of Claudius, in their drunken mood.
Shrill calls the nurse, then, on her Britain gods,
Red Taran, Belisama, and Camulus!
The Britain woman's cries happed Caradoc hear.
He snatched the staff of Kevin, old lame lord,
And ran, fleet-foot, among them, in a moment;
Where few and heartless slaves make weak defence;
Men which have half their souls and manhood lost.
The cause perceived, anon; prince Caradoc
Vowed to Mars Camulus, battle-god, an horse.
Hath stiff and mighty brawns the Verulam prince;
Who on those Romans, falls, with Britain oak.
He snatched the staff of Kevin, old lame lord,
And ran, fleet-foot, among them, in a moment;
Where few and heartless slaves make weak defence;
Men which have half their souls and manhood lost.
The cause perceived, anon; prince Caradoc
Vowed to Mars Camulus, battle-god, an horse.
Hath stiff and mighty brawns the Verulam prince;
Who on those Romans, falls, with Britain oak.
They then descry him, in that flickering light,
(Who goodliest man, long-haired Caratacus,
Mongst the bracati, strangers, now in Rome,)
And call him Briton hound, whom will they beat;
Aye, and slay him, if he bite. And swear great oaths,
Those revellers, they would bear away the women,
For that withholden tribute. What, by Fidius!
Hath not more wives, a man, than one, in Britain,
Or twain, or ten? or else lied godded Julius.
(Who goodliest man, long-haired Caratacus,
Mongst the bracati, strangers, now in Rome,)
And call him Briton hound, whom will they beat;
Aye, and slay him, if he bite. And swear great oaths,
Those revellers, they would bear away the women,
For that withholden tribute. What, by Fidius!
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Or twain, or ten? or else lied godded Julius.
Why should this, with the wooden glaive, them envy;
An only Briton maid, among them all.
Nor this the rightful heir is, but Adminius,
Of him, who called is, lord, or king, of Britain;
Adminius, that come, drunken, in our Senate,
Was hailed, Friend and Confederate of the Romans!
Unto whom all lordship should revert of Britain,
To be established, by the Roman arms:
Who promised, seized of Britain's diadem,
To send his brethren, hostages, to great Rome.
An only Briton maid, among them all.
Nor this the rightful heir is, but Adminius,
Of him, who called is, lord, or king, of Britain;
Adminius, that come, drunken, in our Senate,
Was hailed, Friend and Confederate of the Romans!
Unto whom all lordship should revert of Britain,
To be established, by the Roman arms:
Who promised, seized of Britain's diadem,
To send his brethren, hostages, to great Rome.
Another cries, Is not this oak-staff youth
The same, of whom decreed was, in our Senate,
He void the City of Rome, in few days' space?
Jove Father! Romulus' seven hills, to-night,
Shall Oak-staff quit, leaving, Ædepol! his corse.
Have at him! fellows, play we now mad druids.
Bind we this calf; and, sith, with rusty knife,
(Call we it golden sickle,) carve his throat:
It shall be a game, (me Hecate!) now, to see,
Like some night-crow, breeched Briton ghost flit forth!
Venus! or will this slay us all, to-night!
The same, of whom decreed was, in our Senate,
He void the City of Rome, in few days' space?
Jove Father! Romulus' seven hills, to-night,
Shall Oak-staff quit, leaving, Ædepol! his corse.
Have at him! fellows, play we now mad druids.
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(Call we it golden sickle,) carve his throat:
It shall be a game, (me Hecate!) now, to see,
Like some night-crow, breeched Briton ghost flit forth!
Venus! or will this slay us all, to-night!
Ware lord! (in Britons' tongue,) shrieked that old wife,
Their secret steel! She seen had treacherous gleam,
Flash from their bosoms. Turned Caratacus,
And a young Roman smote, smote on the pan.
(He whom Caradoc smites, shall not soon speak again!
Dead-slain, such lies, or else a broken man.)
Their secret steel! She seen had treacherous gleam,
Flash from their bosoms. Turned Caratacus,
And a young Roman smote, smote on the pan.
(He whom Caradoc smites, shall not soon speak again!
Dead-slain, such lies, or else a broken man.)
Two, felled, lie without motion, on the stones.
Then he, assembling all his matchless force,
Against the remnant, goes. So cometh lord Iddon,
Old man of war. He caught a torch, lets drive,
At one who steals, (and heavy is his hand,
Stern witty hands, to handle nigh and sore!)
Behind his neck, to stab Caratacus.
In that, to Britons' gods, he breathed his prayer;
That might, to his shrunk limbs, one little hour,
Return their antique pith: as when his spear,
Made of a trusty tree, (in Gaul, that war
Was; he to horse,) bore through stout Roman captain;
Whose harness he, in Hesus' grove, uphanged.
Heard that grim god; new strength, in him, infused,
Immortal! Iddon falls on murderous Romans,
With shout, that seemed, in Rome, of barbare armies.
They scatter, from him, fast. Prince Caradoc,
From lewd profaning Roman hands; in this,
That noble Briton virgin hath released.
Then he, assembling all his matchless force,
Against the remnant, goes. So cometh lord Iddon,
Old man of war. He caught a torch, lets drive,
At one who steals, (and heavy is his hand,
Stern witty hands, to handle nigh and sore!)
Behind his neck, to stab Caratacus.
In that, to Britons' gods, he breathed his prayer;
That might, to his shrunk limbs, one little hour,
Return their antique pith: as when his spear,
Made of a trusty tree, (in Gaul, that war
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Whose harness he, in Hesus' grove, uphanged.
Heard that grim god; new strength, in him, infused,
Immortal! Iddon falls on murderous Romans,
With shout, that seemed, in Rome, of barbare armies.
They scatter, from him, fast. Prince Caradoc,
From lewd profaning Roman hands; in this,
That noble Briton virgin hath released.
Many, from solers dark, of neighbour houses,
Are crying to the watch! Now the night round
Approaches; hark, with heavy hasting tread!
And, from the nigh wine-taverns, come men forth.
Unto whom, cry mockers, from above; Is Brennus,
(Because were torches fallen, at their stairs,)
That kindles, with his Gauls, again, proud Rome.
Are crying to the watch! Now the night round
Approaches; hark, with heavy hasting tread!
And, from the nigh wine-taverns, come men forth.
Unto whom, cry mockers, from above; Is Brennus,
(Because were torches fallen, at their stairs,)
That kindles, with his Gauls, again, proud Rome.
Who fight, then cease. Would, sobered, those young lords,
Take up their fallen ones; and 'scape through the watch.
Departed, from them, is the heat of wine:
But the street's end, the round, with chains, have shut.
There are they taken. The watch, Caratacus,
Find standing over some new-fallen young Roman;
Rolling, like a roused lion, his angry eyes.
Take up their fallen ones; and 'scape through the watch.
Departed, from them, is the heat of wine:
But the street's end, the round, with chains, have shut.
There are they taken. The watch, Caratacus,
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Rolling, like a roused lion, his angry eyes.
He bleeds! They know him, in whose other hand,
A bloody staff, is prince Caratacus.
But who this one, seems dead, on the cold stones?
Are these slaves Cæsar's! those, young Senators!
And, in yond porch, were found the trembling women;
Saved from this litter, here, lies overthrown!
Is Iddon, with fierce looks, which them defends.
A bloody staff, is prince Caratacus.
But who this one, seems dead, on the cold stones?
Are these slaves Cæsar's! those, young Senators!
And, in yond porch, were found the trembling women;
Saved from this litter, here, lies overthrown!
Is Iddon, with fierce looks, which them defends.
The rest they hale then, slaves, with torches spent,
From shadows, forth. Who captain of the watch,
Discerns them all, with lanterns: their device
And livery is Cæsar's; and this litter Cæsar's!
And he, among, enquires, with an hoarse voice;
And bending-to their lights, men of his guard;
What be these fallen, and why this one lies dead?
And lies that other, wounded, without speech;
Both plainly, and by their weed, of noble house.
Some other revellers sought, where, in foul place,
To hide them; but, on them, is laid arrest.
Sustain, commands the captain, who have wounds:
Some bear the dead; the rest bring on, to ward.
From shadows, forth. Who captain of the watch,
Discerns them all, with lanterns: their device
And livery is Cæsar's; and this litter Cæsar's!
And he, among, enquires, with an hoarse voice;
And bending-to their lights, men of his guard;
What be these fallen, and why this one lies dead?
And lies that other, wounded, without speech;
Both plainly, and by their weed, of noble house.
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To hide them; but, on them, is laid arrest.
Sustain, commands the captain, who have wounds:
Some bear the dead; the rest bring on, to ward.
But, for all this, is none injurious hand,
Laid on Caratacus, Britannic legate;
Whose person sacred is, by Roman laws.
Only that officer bids him, to beware
Of kindred of the slain. Some, his armed men,
This sends, with lanterns, ward the damsel home.
Laid on Caratacus, Britannic legate;
Whose person sacred is, by Roman laws.
Only that officer bids him, to beware
Of kindred of the slain. Some, his armed men,
This sends, with lanterns, ward the damsel home.
Caradoc and Briton lords, with Embla, who sighs,
What, for past fear, and to have seen men's deaths;
Follow to house of Cantion Dumnoveros.
There giveth now, softly, thanks the royal maid;
Her voice like flute, for sweetness, when she bids,
Come to her doors, the prince Caratacus,
Goodnight! And would have parted the prince thus;
Because was foe her father, Dumnoveros,
To king Cunobelin, called the Sire of Britain.
What, for past fear, and to have seen men's deaths;
Follow to house of Cantion Dumnoveros.
There giveth now, softly, thanks the royal maid;
Her voice like flute, for sweetness, when she bids,
Come to her doors, the prince Caratacus,
Goodnight! And would have parted the prince thus;
Because was foe her father, Dumnoveros,
To king Cunobelin, called the Sire of Britain.
But that old lord, misgiving him his heart;
For so long tarries Embla, issued forth,
Was; and in shadow, waits her, of his porch:
Unto every sound, he bends his listful ears;
For this is Rome, and all, in Rome, he fears!
For so long tarries Embla, issued forth,
Was; and in shadow, waits her, of his porch:
Unto every sound, he bends his listful ears;
For this is Rome, and all, in Rome, he fears!
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Unto whom, then, hieing, on her aged feet;
Begins, from point to point, with panting breath,
The nurse, as yet dismayed, thing happed to-night,
Rehearse. That old, this young lord, saved her lady.
Britons both, by their speech; and seem some lords,
In far-off Rome. But Embla spake, anon;
Father, is this the prince Caratacus,
Unto whom we owe, for our saved lives, all thanks!
Begins, from point to point, with panting breath,
The nurse, as yet dismayed, thing happed to-night,
Rehearse. That old, this young lord, saved her lady.
Britons both, by their speech; and seem some lords,
In far-off Rome. But Embla spake, anon;
Father, is this the prince Caratacus,
Unto whom we owe, for our saved lives, all thanks!
His right hand, to Cunobelin's son, advanced,
(Alwere he a little loath,) then, Dumnoveros.
Right courteously, it take those lords, again,
Of noble Verulamion. Dumnoveros
So brings them, through his porch, into his hall.
(Alwere he a little loath,) then, Dumnoveros.
Right courteously, it take those lords, again,
Of noble Verulamion. Dumnoveros
So brings them, through his porch, into his hall.
There sit they on Roman stately thrones; and sees
Prince Caradoc, son unto the Lord of Britain,
Embla, unveiled, like daughter of the sun:
When she, yet trembling, for the fear forepast,
Cast about her sire's neck, her virgin arms.
Seemed then, to rain down, from the maiden's neck,
Like to sun's summer beams, her golden hairs;
Part glistering yet, what, for the late distress,
With teary droppéd dews of her clear eyes;
That, weeping, shine, as the blue gulf of heaven.
For dread, is, somedeal, cruddled, in her cheeks,
The maiden rud, like roses, ivory white;
Whilst, hark, the message of her virgin spirit,
She óf those twinnéd coral lips, sends forth!
(Which hedged round, as with clear pearls of Isle Britain,)
Like silver descant upon harp of bards!
Prince Caradoc, son unto the Lord of Britain,
Embla, unveiled, like daughter of the sun:
When she, yet trembling, for the fear forepast,
Cast about her sire's neck, her virgin arms.
Seemed then, to rain down, from the maiden's neck,
Like to sun's summer beams, her golden hairs;
Part glistering yet, what, for the late distress,
With teary droppéd dews of her clear eyes;
That, weeping, shine, as the blue gulf of heaven.
For dread, is, somedeal, cruddled, in her cheeks,
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Whilst, hark, the message of her virgin spirit,
She óf those twinnéd coral lips, sends forth!
(Which hedged round, as with clear pearls of Isle Britain,)
Like silver descant upon harp of bards!
And Embla sees; and wist not, that she loves,
Her godlike saviour, of an hostile house.
Yet feels she jeopardy, would her gentle life;
And might she save thee prince Caratacus!
Now and she, alone, perceives, such eyes hath love;
How hidden hurt, under his cloak, he hath.
Her godlike saviour, of an hostile house.
Yet feels she jeopardy, would her gentle life;
And might she save thee prince Caratacus!
Now and she, alone, perceives, such eyes hath love;
How hidden hurt, under his cloak, he hath.
Cries Embla, hastily, anon; Bring hither nurse,
The pots of salve, in store, with linen fine,
And sponge and ewer! Albe the roses flush,
Of maiden modesty, up, in her cheeks;
Frank and courageous, she, approached the prince,
Him made to sit down, in her father's stall.
And on his flesh feels Caradoc her pure breath,
She kneeling him beside, from maiden breast;
Sweet as, in spring mead, is the mower's swathe.
And whilst the virgin's hands him wash and bind,
The Briton prince wox joyous of his wound!
The pots of salve, in store, with linen fine,
And sponge and ewer! Albe the roses flush,
Of maiden modesty, up, in her cheeks;
Frank and courageous, she, approached the prince,
Him made to sit down, in her father's stall.
And on his flesh feels Caradoc her pure breath,
She kneeling him beside, from maiden breast;
Sweet as, in spring mead, is the mower's swathe.
And whilst the virgin's hands him wash and bind,
The Briton prince wox joyous of his wound!
Bade, with new solemn thanks, good Dumnoveros,
Those lords come oft, and prince Caratacus.
Of former variance, will they naught record;
But only of sweetness of their foster-soil.
Be not all Britons, kindred, in great Rome?
But taking, soon, his leave; Caratacus,
Joyous, in his heart's sadness, thence outwends;
To wot, if yet awakens sick Adminius.
Those lords come oft, and prince Caratacus.
115
But only of sweetness of their foster-soil.
Be not all Britons, kindred, in great Rome?
But taking, soon, his leave; Caratacus,
Joyous, in his heart's sadness, thence outwends;
To wot, if yet awakens sick Adminius.
Approaching; comes, then, to their careful ears
Sound of lament, shrill outcries, in the house;
Plaint of the woman-thrall, which was his wife:
And, in that point, some great man's retinue,
Arriving, stands, with torches, at the porch.
It is, they hear, the Senator Hostilius,
Whose sire was hospes of old Tasciovant.
To him, gives answer, one of the house-servants,
The Lord of Britain's son, now passed from life!
Who, dying, called them, in his last access;
As he, of weight, had somewhat to impart.
Sound of lament, shrill outcries, in the house;
Plaint of the woman-thrall, which was his wife:
And, in that point, some great man's retinue,
Arriving, stands, with torches, at the porch.
It is, they hear, the Senator Hostilius,
Whose sire was hospes of old Tasciovant.
To him, gives answer, one of the house-servants,
The Lord of Britain's son, now passed from life!
Who, dying, called them, in his last access;
As he, of weight, had somewhat to impart.
They hear, in his sick frenzy, yelled Adminius,
Of snake-haired furies, in hell-wain, pursuing
His soul, with scourges, down to murk abysm.
He mad, then, ere there any might withhold him
Raught knife, which lay hid, under his bed's head,
(As all his life was base and treacherous!)
And did, with eyes aflame, riving his breast,
Fordo himself; and so, uttering thick curse,
Died presently. Low, lies Adminius' corse,
Dreadful to look on, bloody, on the face;
Fallen from the bed, where his last throes him cast.
Of snake-haired furies, in hell-wain, pursuing
His soul, with scourges, down to murk abysm.
He mad, then, ere there any might withhold him
Raught knife, which lay hid, under his bed's head,
(As all his life was base and treacherous!)
And did, with eyes aflame, riving his breast,
116
Died presently. Low, lies Adminius' corse,
Dreadful to look on, bloody, on the face;
Fallen from the bed, where his last throes him cast.
To the death-chamber, mounts Caratacus.
He looks with heavy cheer, on dead Adminius;
And those lords with him! And they, sith, cut off;
As he, the dead, had promised, his long locks.
He looks with heavy cheer, on dead Adminius;
And those lords with him! And they, sith, cut off;
As he, the dead, had promised, his long locks.
There, left the Roman Senator Hostilius,
Caradoc turns, sad, to hall of Dumnoveros.
Then take they counsel, far into the night,
With that good sire. In fine, concluded was;
When have they quenched Adminius' funeral flame,
And gathered were his ashes, in an urn;
That all, in some disguise, should part from Rome.
They hear then, hath Hostilius lodged request,
That were just funerals made for dead Adminius,
Tomorrow-even, at the public cost;
For cause he was Confederate named of Romans.
Caradoc turns, sad, to hall of Dumnoveros.
Then take they counsel, far into the night,
With that good sire. In fine, concluded was;
When have they quenched Adminius' funeral flame,
And gathered were his ashes, in an urn;
That all, in some disguise, should part from Rome.
They hear then, hath Hostilius lodged request,
That were just funerals made for dead Adminius,
Tomorrow-even, at the public cost;
For cause he was Confederate named of Romans.
Now is that morrow, and the evening hour.
And, lo, a stranger dead, Adminius' corse,
Through Roman street, on purple bier, borne forth.
Black-gowned, the public lictors go before.
Shrill funeral pipes, then, slow and mournful note.
Few Britons follow, to that burning place;
And of those few, few loved Adminius.
And, lo, a stranger dead, Adminius' corse,
Through Roman street, on purple bier, borne forth.
Black-gowned, the public lictors go before.
Shrill funeral pipes, then, slow and mournful note.
117
And of those few, few loved Adminius.
Now be they come, without the city's port:
And halt before walled court; behold, where is
The builded pyre. There, taking up the herse,
The public servants bear it on the wood;
Which Caradoc fires, then, with averted face;
As custom is! Hostilius, lastly, cast
In parfumes; whilst the raging flames upmount.
And halt before walled court; behold, where is
The builded pyre. There, taking up the herse,
The public servants bear it on the wood;
Which Caradoc fires, then, with averted face;
As custom is! Hostilius, lastly, cast
In parfumes; whilst the raging flames upmount.
Few linger, till consumed the stranger's corse.
Sprinkles, with olive-branch and water pure,
The Roman priest, already, them that part.
Sole, rests Caratacus; who then the same night,
Upgathered, hastily, in a Roman urn,
Adminius' yet warm ashes, did bear home.
He, Briton prince, a cypress-bough set up,
Then, sign of Roman mourning, at his gate.
Sprinkles, with olive-branch and water pure,
The Roman priest, already, them that part.
Sole, rests Caratacus; who then the same night,
Upgathered, hastily, in a Roman urn,
Adminius' yet warm ashes, did bear home.
He, Briton prince, a cypress-bough set up,
Then, sign of Roman mourning, at his gate.
| The Dawn in Britain | |