The Fall of Duke Nennius, Death-Wounded by Julius Caesar

I may by right some later writers blame,
Of stories olde, as rude or negligent:
Or else I may them wel vnlearned name,
Or heedlesse in those thinges about they went:
Some time on me as well they might haue spent,
As on such traytours, tyrants, harlots, those
Which to their countreyes were the deadliest foes.

Ne for my selfe I would not this recite,
(Although I haue occasion good thereto)
But sure, me thinkes it is too great despite
These men to others and their countreyes do,
For there are Britaynes, neyther one or two,
Whose names in stories scarcely once appeare:
And yet their liues examples worthie were.

T’s worthie prayse (I graunt) to write the endes
Of vicious men, and teach the like beware:
For what hath he of vertue that commendes
Such persons lewde, as naught of vertue’s care:
But for to leaue out those prayse-worthie are,
Is like as if a man had not the skill
To prayse the good, but discommend the ill.

I craue no prayse, although my selfe deseru’d
As great a laude as any Britayne yore:
But I would haue it tolde how well I seru’d
My Prince and Countrye, Fayth to both I bore:
All noble hearts hereby with courage more
May both their forayne foes in fight withstand,
And of their enmies haue the vpper hand.

Agayne, to shewe how valiaunt then wee were
(You Britaynes good) to moue your hearts thereby,
All other nations lesse in fight to feare,
And for your countrye rather so to die
With valiaunt hauty courage, as did I,
Then liue in bondage, seruice, slauery, thrall
Of forayne powres, which hate your manhood all.

Doe giue mee leaue to speake but euen a while,
And marke, and write the story I thee tell:
By North from London more then fifty mile,
There lies the Isle of Ely knowne full well,
Wherein my father built a place to dwell:
And for because hee liked well the same,
Hee gaue the place hee Ely hight his name.

’Tis namde the Isle of Ely yet, perdy
My father namde it so: yet writers misse,
Or if I may bee bolde to say, they ly
Of him, which tell that farre vntruth like is:
What truth (I pray you) seemes to bee in this
Hee Ely lou’d, a goodly place built there,
Most it delited, raygnde not full a yeare.

Hee raygned forty yeares, as other tell,
Which seemes (as ’tis) a tale more true by farre.
By Iustice guided hee his subiects well,
And liude in peace, without the broyles of warre.
His childrens noble acts in stories are,
In vulgar tongue: but nought is sayd of mee,
And yet I worthy was the yongste of three.

His eldest sonne and heyre was after King,
A noble Prince and hee was named Lud,
Full politicke and wise in euery thing,
And one that wil’d his Countrey alwayes good:
Such vses, customes, statutes hee withstood,
As seemde to bring the publique weales decay,
And them abolisht, brake, repealde away.

So hee the walles of Troy the new renewde,
Them fortified with forty Towres about:
And at the west side of the wall hee vewde
The Towre o’th gate to keepe the enmyes out,
That made hee prisons for the poore bankrout,
Namde Ludgate yet, for free men debters, free
From hurt, till with their creditours they gree.

Some say the City also tooke the name
Of Lud my brother: for hee it reparde:
And I must needes as true confesse the same,
For why that time no cost on it hee sparde:
He still increast and peopled euery warde,
And bad them aye Kaerlud, the City call,
Or Ludstone, now you name it London all.

At length hee died, his children vnder age,
The elder named was Androgeus:
Committing both vnto my brother’s charge,
The yonger of them hight Tennancius:
The Britaynes wanting aged rulers thus,
Choose for that time Cassibellane their King,
My brother Iustice ment in euery thing.

The Romayne then the mighty Cæsar fought
Agaynst the Galles, and conquerde them by might:
Which done, hee stoode on shoares where see hee mought
The Ocean Seas, and Britayne clieues full bright.
(Quoth hee) what region lyes there in my sight?
Mee thinkes some Iland in the Seas I see,
Not yet subdued, nor vanquist yet by mee.

With that they told him wee the Britaynes were,
A people stout, and fearce in feates of warre:
(Quoth hee) the Romaynes neuer yet with feare
Of nation rude were daunted of so farre,
Wee therefore mind to proue them what they are.
And therewithall hee letters hither sent,
By those ambassage brought, and thus they went.

C. IVLIVS CÆSAR
Consull of Rome, to Cassibellane
King of Britayne, sendeth greeting.

Sith that the Gods haue giuen vs all the West,
As subiects to our Romayne Empire hie,
By warre, or as it seemed Ioue the best,
Of whom wee Romaynes came, and chiefly I:

Therefore to you which in the Ocean dwell,
(As yet not vnderneath subiection due)
Wee send our letters greeting: wete yee well
In warlike cases thus wee deale with you,

First, that you, as the other regions, pay
Vs tribute yearely, Romaynes wee require:
Then, that you will with all the force you may
Withstand our foes as yours, with sword and fire:

And thirdly, that by these you hostage send
T’assure the couenaunts once agreed by you:
So with your daunger lesse our warres may end
Else bid wee warre. Cassibellane adieu.

CÆSAR.

No sooner were these Cæsar’s letters seene,
But straight the King for all his nobles sent,
Hee shewde them what their auncestours had beene,
And prayde them tell in this their whole intent:
Hee told them whereabout the Romaynes went,
And what subiection was, how seruile they
Should bee if Cæsar bare their pompe away.

And all the Britaynes euen as set on fire,
(My selfe not least enflamed was to fight)
Did humbly him in ioyfull wise desire,
That hee his letters would to Cæsar write,
And tell him playne wee past not of his spite:
Wee past as litle of the Romaynes, wee,
And lesse then they of vs, if lesse might bee.

Wherefore the ioyfull King agayne replide,
Through counsaile wise of all the nobles had:
By letters hee the Romaynes hests denide,
Which made the Britaynes hauty harts full glad:
And eke the Romayne Consull proude as mad
To heare these letters written: thus they went,
Which hee agayne to mighty Cæsar sent.

CASSIBELLANE
King of Britayne to C. Iulius
Cæsar Consull of Rome.

As thou, O Cæsar, writste the Gods haue geuen to thee
The west: so I replye, they gaue this Island mee.
Thou sayst you Romaynes and thy selfe of Gods discend,
And darst thou then to spoile our Troian bloud pretend?
Againe, though Gods haue giu’n thee all the world as thine,
That’s parted from the world, thou getst no land of mine.
And sith likewise of Gods wee came a Nation free,
Wee owe no tribute, ayde, or pledge to Rome, or thee:
Retracte thy will, or wage thy warre, as likes thee best:
Wee are to fight, and rather then to frendship, prest.
To saue our Countrye from the force of foraine strife,
Eche Britayne here is well content to venter life.
Wee feare not of the end or daungers thou doest tell,
But vse thy pleasure if thou maist, thus fare thou well.

CASSIBELLANE.

When Cæsar had receau’d his aunswere so,
It vext him much hee thereupon decreede
To wage vs warre, and worke vs Britaynes woe:
Wherefore hee hasted hitherwarde with speede.
Wee Britaynes eke preparde our selues with heede
To meete the Romaynes, all in warlike guise,
With all the force, and speede wee might deuise.

And here the wiser deemde it meeter much
T’assayle them first at th’entry on this land,
Then for to giue aryuall here to such,
Might with our victualls ayde our selues withstand:
’Tis better far thy enmy to aband
Quite from thy borders, to a forayne soyle,
Then hee at home thee and thy Countrye spoile.

Wherefore wee met him at his entry in,
And pitche our camps directly in his way:
Wee minded sure to leese, or else to winne
The praise, before wee past from thence away:
So when that both the armies were in ray,
And trumpets blaste on euery side was blowne,
Our mindes to either eche were quickly knowne.

Wee ioyned battayle, fearcely both wee fought,
The Romaynes to enlarge their Empyre’s fame:
And wee with all the force and might wee mought,
To saue our Countrye and to keepe our name:
O, worthy Britaynes! learne to doe the same:
Wee brake the rayes of all the Romayne hoast,
And made the mighty Cæsar leaue his boast.

Yet hee the worthyest Captaine euer was,
Brought all in ray and fought agayne a new,
His skilfull souldiers hee could bring to passe
At once, for why his traynings all they knew:
No sooner I his noble corps did vewe,
But in I brake amongste the Captaynes band,
And there I fought with Cæsar hand to hand.

O God thou mightst haue giuen a Britayne grace,
T’haue slayne the Romayne Cæsar noble then,
Which sought his bloud the Britaynes to deface,
And bring in bondage valiaunt worthy men,
Hee neuer should haue gone to Rome agen,
To fight with Pompey, or his peeres to slay,
Or else to bring his Countrey in decay.

It ioyde my harte, to strike on Cæsar’s crest,
O Cæsar, that there had bene none but wee!
I often made my sword to try thy brest,
But Lady Fortune did not fauoure mee:
I able was mee thought with Cæsars three
To try the case: I made thy harte to quake,
When on thy crest with mighty stroke I strake.

The strokes thou strookste mee hurt mee nought at all,
For why, thy strength was nothing in respect:
But thou hadst bath’d thy sword in poyson all,
Which did my wound, not deadly els, infect:
Yet was I or I parted thence bewreckte,
I gate thy sworde from thee for all thy fame,
And made thee flye for feare to eate the same.

For when thy sword was in my target fast,
I made thee flye and quickely leaue thy hold,
Thou neuer wast in all thy life so gast,
Nor durst agayne bee euer halfe so bold:
I made a number Romaynes hartes full cold:
Fight, fight, you noble Britaynes now (quoth I)
Wee neuer all will vnreuenged die.

What Cæsar though thy prayse and mine bee od,
(Perdy the stories scarce remember mee)
Though Poets all of thee doe make a God,
(Such simple fooles in making Gods they bee)
Yet if I might my quarell try’d with thee,
Thou neuer hadst retournde to Rome agayne,
Nor of thy faithfull friends bin beastly slayne.

A number Britaynes mightst thou there haue seene
Death-wounded fight, and spoile their spitefull foes:
My selfe maimde slewe and mangled mo (I weene)
When I was hurte then twenty more of those:
I made the Romaynes harts to take their hose,
In all the campe no Romayne scarce I spide,
Durst halfe the combate gainst a Britayne byde.

At length I met a noble man, they cald
Him Labienus, one of Cæsar’s friends,
A Tribune erst had many Britaynes thrald,
Was one of Cæsar’s legats, forth hee sends:
Well met (quoth I) I minde to make th’amends,
For all thy frendships to our Countrey crew:
And so with Cæsar’s sword his friend I slew.

What neede I name you euery Britayne here,
As first the King, the nobles all besyde,
Full stout and worthy wights in warre that were,
As euer erst the stately Romaynes tryde:
Wee fought so long they durst no longer bide:
Proude Cæsar hee for all his bragges and boste
Flew backe to ships, with halfe his scattered hoste.

If hee had bene a God (as sotts him nam’d)
Hee could not of vs Britaynes taken foile,
The Monarche Cæsar might haue bene asham’d
From such an Island with his ships recoyle,
Or else to flye and leaue behinde the spoile:
But life is sweete, hee thought it better flye,
Then byde amongste vs Britaynes, here to die.

I had his sword was named Crocea mors,
With which hee gaue mee in the head a stroke,
The venime of the which had such a force,
It able was to pearce the harte of oke:
No medcines might the poyson out reuoke,
Wherefore though scarce hee perced had the skin,
In fifteene dayes my braynes it rancled in.

And then to soone (alas) therefore I dyde,
Yet would to God hee had returnde agayne,
So that I might but once the dastard spyde,
Before hee went I had the serpent slayne.
Hee playde the coward cutthrote all to playne:
A beastly serpent’s harte that beaste detects,
Which, or hee fight, his sworde with bane infects.

Well, then my death brought Cæsar no renowne,
For both I gate thereby eternall fame,
And eke his sworde to strike his friends adowne:
I slewe therewith his Labiene by name:
With Prince against my Countrey foes I came,
Was wounded yet did neuer faynt nor yeelde,
Till Cæsar with his souldiers fled the fielde.

Who would not venter life in such a case?
Who would not fight at Countrye’s whole request?
Who would not meeting Cæsar in the place,
Fight for life, Prince, and Countrye, with the best?
The greatest courage is by facts exprest:
Then for thy Prince, with fortitude, as I,
And Realme’s defence, is praise to liue or dy.

Now write my life when thou hast leasure, and
Will all thy countrymen to learne by mee,
Both for their Prince and for their natiue land,
As valiaunt, bolde, and fearelesse for to bee.
A paterne playne of fortitude they see:
To which directly if themselues they frame,
They shall preserue their Countrye, fayth, and fame.

Lenvoy.

When noble Nennius thus had ended talke,
Me thought he vanisht with so sweete a smell,
As though the graces all with him had walkte,
And what I heard of musicke did excell,
Like notes of instruments no tongue can tell,
In harmony of such an heauenly noyes,
Me seemde they passed all our earthly ioyes.

Their tunes declarde the battayle all so right,
As if the Britaynes and the Romaines than
Had presently in hearing and in sight,
A fresh the bloudy battayle all began:
Me thought I heard the vertues of the man
By notes declarde, and Cæsar’s daungers tolde
More plainely then with eyes I might beholde.

But when they came to tell of Cæsar’s flight,
I saw the Romaines fall me thought full fast,
And all the Britaynes chace them euen till night:
Wherewith, the sound of British trumpets blast
Made me so madde, amazed at the last,
I lookt about for sworde or weapon, I
To runne with Britaynes cryde, they flie, they flie.

Their flight to ships and foyle the trumpets sound,
And blewe the victours triumphes at returne:
The noyse well nigh my sences did confound,
And made my heart with all their loues to burne:
But when they gan the wounded Britaynes mourne
With doubled wayling shrickes, such cryes they sente
And sobbes and sighes, wel nigh my heart they rente.

Eke chiefly they at noble Nennius stayde,
They seemde with dolefull tunes their notes to riue:
And sodaynly his prayse againe they playde,
O worthie Nennius for thy factes aliue!
The trumpe of fame was straightly chargde reuiue,
And keepe, maintaine and celebrate his prayse:
Which done, me thought they vanisht quite their wayes.

On this in troubled traunce I lay a while,
In ioy reioycing what a wight he was,
A worthie Duke, that for this noble Ile
So fought it forth, a myrrour fayre, a glasse
For those aliue: his vertues so surpasse,
That for his factes, fight, fortitude, and fame,
He well deserues an euerlasting name.

At such a time and place is vertue tryde,
When manhood may both Prince and countrey please,
But such a brunt the valiant will abide,
And bende their force to worke their countreye’s ease:
They thinke no trauayle loste, by land, or Seas,
But venture fortune, goods, life, landes and heale,
To fight it out for Prince and publique weale.

You that haue heard or read the worthie factes
Of Nennius here, (though rudely pende by mee)
Learne so to fight, let so your noble actes
By those that after come, recounted bee:
I may full well reioyce he spake to mee,
For if I had not stayde to heare him then,
I thinke he scarce had come to speake agen.

But next me thought appeared plaine in sight
A noble Lorde, which once had lost his head,
Of person tall, well set, a comely wight,
Whome proude despite aliue to slaughter lead:
Thus wise he wilde me penne how earst he spead,
Perswading me, perdy, to write agen
His fall, amongst the Britayne noble men.