Book IV

BRITON BRENNUS
To arms, run Clusians, in their master street;
Where thronging, they do morions on and harness.
Their magistrates cast up then the city's gates:
And shining host, with brazen helms and plate,
Troop shouting forth: who dukes, bear purple cloaks.

To order them, without, about their ensigns,
Was space uneath; seen running long-haired Britons,
With spended bows, their enemies to meet.
And yet is only fought, with far-shot shafts:
Then issue from the town, impetuous,
Horsemen, whose captains Fabii are discerned,
By their helms' crests and Sabine shields and arms!
Approached first Quintus, on ferocious horse,
His lance, against the Gauls, hurled headlong forth.
The Armorican duke, stout Amrigol, it pierced.
Sith, Quintus hurt, with glaive, Verpolitus.

Tuscans new sight behold, to them uncouth!

Chariots of Britons, two men in each cart,
On bronze-hooked running axe-trees, hurling darts.
Clusians' steeds, flying from them, through the plain,
Their riders cast. Waver the citizen legion:
They come not on. Then Arunt sent a trumpet,
And bade them fear not: the Transalpine Gauls,
Who with him marched, are friends magnanimous.
Halt they, and Gauls will cease upon their part.
Recoil then Clusians, to their stony walls.

Brennus, betwixt the hosts, outrides with Arunt.
And lo, of Clusians' part, face to the earth,
Guilty Lucamon, bruised of horses' hoofs!
For Briton chariots overdrave his corse,
Lies uneath to be known; the black gore, run
So is in all his face. Dire prophecy he,
To eschew, issued, men say, in a disguise:
But, thrilled by an arrow, foundered his war-horse,
(When now he held almost the city's port,)
And wallowing on him all his chest to-burst.
A cripple wont, for alms, sit at that gate,
Beheld his fall, bewrayed it for reward.
Did passage then deny that Clusian folk,
To the damned carcase, through their city walls.
All cry out, they submit them to king Arunt.

To camp, return a band, Armoricans;
Which Amrigol bear, on large pavese, slain,
Their duke. Did off his raven-helm king Brennus;
And all his lords stand with uncovered heads.

They honour thus, whilst those pass forth, the corse.

Men, on his steed, upstay Verpolitus;
At sight whereof, is ferment in all hearts,
Of Gauls; which cry out on truce-breaking Romans.

Nathless; will, erst, king Brennus send to Rome,
His heralds; of that city to require,
Delivered the three Fabii were to Gauls,
Which truth of nations' brake: that, for the death,
Of Amrigol, and for hurt Verpolitus,
They, at the hands of Gauls, should suffer death.

Cisalpine Gauls, are those he sends to Rome.

Now, on vast shining host of Gauls, the sun
Descends; when issue from the city walls,
A train, with olive branches in their hands.
Priests are these, and the senate of that town::
Which led before king Brennus, do confirm,
All Clusians will again receive king Arunt.
They promise, and ask, peace, of glorious Brennus.
They also will third part of their outfields,
Divide, as covenant was, unto his Gauls.

Heralds and messengers of Transalpine Gauls, i A shield.

Lo, come, at morrow's eve, to quadrate Rome.
Being gathered, to give audience, Rome's proud senate,
With only injurious silence, do respond.
Then from their curia went forth Brennus' legates;
Where they Numerius saw, Koeson and Quintus,
Truce-breaking Fabii three, sit in chief place;
(Which to Rome town, before them, were come home.)

The same night, they, with speed, return to Brennus,
And the army at Clusium. Rise, tumultuous,
At trumpets' dreadful note, then angry Gauls;
And, with vast cry, (fore-riding the trimarch,)
They now hold way leads to truce-breaking Rome:
And hardly, at night, the Gauls, impatient, rest.
Is Latium full then in men's fearful ears,
Of immense rumour, more than mortals' voice.
Seem ride dread gods, in warfare of tall Gauls!
So speed they, tidings hardly come to Rome,
Before their march. In city of Romulus,
Have chosen the people captains of their powers,
Those sons of Fabius. Hastily snatch their arms,
Then Roman youth, heard coming of fierce Gauls.
Helmed, harnessed, they from all Rome's ports, out-rush,
Without due order kept. Who knights, mount horse.

All issued seemed Rome's fatal city dead,
So sullen left, forsaken, her strait streets.
Might Fabii loosely them array uneath,
At the twelfth milestone, this side Allia brook.

Already Gauls, with dreadful cries, approach.
They go up, giants of stature, like a wall,
Immane, of shields; and heart-amazing sounds
Their uncouth battle-shout. Armoricans, erst,
Burst Romans' front. Yet riseth wave on wave,
Of the huge, bloody tide of war. Break war-carts,
Of Britons, soon, the Romans' horns of horse,
Then fall in heaps, unwont to turn their backs,
The Latin youth. They, like to slaughter beasts,
Die in their blood. Who rest, then flee aghast,
Overthrown, they fly, in routs, an heartless press,
From Gauls and angry gods. The most then cast,
Death chasing at their necks, their shields and arms.

To Tiber, the first fugitives arrive,
Romans with Romans, there, contend for life;
So waxed they mad, for dread, who first should pass.
They hear shout terribly the dread Gauls' king Brennus,
Hurling sharp shivering javelins where he rides.
Each smites to death some chief one of the Romans.
Hard after swift-horsed Quintus, Brennus drives,
Quintus, first author of the Latin wrong.

Even now his Cantion steeds do breathe hot breath,
Which hurt Verpolitus guides, in Quintus' neck.

Falls noble Marcius, of the knights of Rome;
Sulpicius, then and Claudius, Brennus pierced,
And Curtius, tribunes. Now he smites Quirinus,
Praetor, to death, and Sabine Lartius,
Virginius, rich Posthumius and stout Lucius;
Then Geminus Vectius, master of the horse,
Slain in the backward, mongst thick throngs, in flight.
And follow flower of Britons and king's sons,
With great cries, Brennus in his chase of Quintus.

He, would he fight or flee, mongst Roman knights,
Known by his horse-tail crest, is still borne forth.
For would not Brennus, yet, the felon smite,
With javelin, as desiring him to wreak,
On Fabius' son, for hurt Verpolitus,
With his Cheruscan glaive. Then, for this chase
Too long endures, nor longer will king Brennus
Abide; he drew a mighty bow, in chariot.
Betwixt the shoulders, pierced the bloody shaft,
And issued at his neck! and fell young Fabius,
As apple from the rise, down from his horse;
And seemed the earth beat back the felon's corse.

Lighted, with shout, hurt king Verpolitus,
And, angry, offhewed, with glaive, head of false
Quintus.

Hunts swift-foot Vellorix, on Gauls' further front,
The Roman routs; till on bright Phocian blade,
Stiffened, had hundred slain, that hero's hand;
And was his tunic black with swart war-gore.
Under the glaive of the least man of war,
In Gauls' great host, fell, that day, many Romans.
Gauls' slaughter nighs to yellow Tiber's brinks;
Where cast their bootless arms, the city-youth,
And hideous is the press. Much part, thrust down,
Which cannot swim, did in the eddies perish.

Other which beat forth, swimming, in the flood;
What for their hauberks' weight, or their limbs clipped
Of drowning wights, drench. Mongst his blood-stained streams,
Is fame, before the fearful Romans rose,
With frozen looks and side-long dropping beard;
And spake, with aweful voice, that river's god,
Saying, None perjurers should his currents pass:
Yet hid he someones in his hollow brinks,
Youth pious towards the gods; which the same night,
Returned; to city of Veii, last arrive.
Yet other, which came erst to Tiber's flood;
(And waded some, to further part, found ford,)
And outwent Gauls, run on, before, towards Rome.

Vowed to their gods all preys, then Gauls not stayed,
To spoil dead foes, but trophies hastily raise,
Magnanimous, in the field, of Roman arms,
Great gathered heaps. And erst at Brennus' word,
They Roman steeds cast in that river's flood.
March on, with tumult dread, then blood-stained Gauls.

Sun sets, when they at Rome's great gate arrive;
Even in the neck of her last fugitives:
That port stands open wide! In strait dim ways.
Strange-smelling, who then of uplandish Gauls
Enter, (for so slight conquest doth amaze
Their hearts; as dreading aye some secret fraud,)
Go not far forth. Only they, nigh that port,
Few houses fired. But Brennus, set strong guard,
That night, in the next street, of trusty champions.

The army lodge, without Rome's-quadrate walls,
Where weary, in long unrest, this night they pass,
Which full of shrill lament, is in their ears.
Rome's matrons wailing, from their temple hill,
The Latin name, now dead, and fall of Rome.
Dreadful with light of flame, is that dark watch,
And horrid rumour of oft rushing roofs.

Entered, with shining host, at day, king Brennus,
He reverent, in Gauls' tongue, salutes what gods
Do keep this city, from their market-place;
Whose temple, in yond cliff, guides come from Arunt,
Him show; and rock where Romans lodge in arms.
Which long considers Brennus and admires.
Whose heart gins swell, with manner of disdain;
For that swart, guileful, little kind of men,
Which yester, at first battle stroke, fled forth.
Therein, five thousand watch, young Roman warriors;
Which thence gaze down on them, their enemies.

Unto whom king Brennus, glory of the Gauls,
Lifting up his great voice, Verpolitus,
His words interpreting, in Etruscan tongue,
Cries, And they would be saved, let them descend,
To parley; and fear they not the truth of Gauls.
For injury, satisfaction must be made,
Done to the faith of nations and the gods:
And they, moreo'er, shall number certain poise
Of gold, Rome's ransom. And, for Amrigol,
By Quintus Fabius' treachery, slain at Clusium,
Must them, of silver, a man's weight be paid.

So having said, great Brennus, like a god,
That sunbright shines, in glorious Gaulish harness,
Departed, leaving squadrons in that place,
Of Gauls: and he ascending the next hill,
Hight Palatine, the Sabine city viewed,
Bulwarks, wide walls, fanes of strange Rome's great gods.

Sith rode, with the tnmarch, the king through Rome;
Wherein, at first, he lodged ten thousand men,
In cross-ways, open places, temple courts.
Yet so that none from other further station,
Than might reach a man's voice. In chariot, stands
Brennus, with Vellorix; and Gauls' martial tread,
Which shook the Alps, shakes now wide-builded Rome,
And in their temples tremble Latin gods.

When silent, captive, lies, at afternoon,
The city; wander Gauls in Roman streets,
By companies, and in houses and in halls,
They enter; and thence, wondering, draw forth preys,
Which, heaped in open places, to Gauls' gods,
Much precious stuff, will they, by fire, consume.

Were some, which entered in a temple court,
Helvetians: there they marvel see one sit,
Old reverend sire, on throne of ivory!
Whose eyes like coals, under his frozen brows;
Them seems some ancient purpled magistrate,
Of Rome's forsaken city. Ingenuous Gauls,
Such deeming, gin salute him in their guise.

Some, touched his raiment, ask, in their land's speech,
What be'st thou for a man, that thus here sittest?
Recording one, with sigh, his father old,
His long long hoary beard, gan gently smooth.
That sullen Roman lifts his sceptre rod,
Of glancing ivory, and the young warrior smote.
Shot through his heart an angry flame, disdains
The warlike child: uplifts his strong right hand,
His spear, yet, generous, in the midst, suspends;
Pitying, in that old wight, his father's years.
One came in then of the Cisalpine Gauls;
Who, using Tuscan speech, began to ask
That sire his name. But aye he holds his peace,
And lofty port. Now fortuned this man was
A faithful servant to Verpolitus;
Who lately, come interpreter unto Rome,
With Brennus' heralds, entered in their senate.
This Gaul, still gazing on his Roman face,
Quoth, Father of the Fabii, is certes this;
Even so looked Quintus, and this, who is Fabius,
His voice first gave, against us, in their senate.
Die, thrice accursed, he cries, thou of Gauls' gods!

And pierced him, that like stock, in purple cloth,
On ivory sits, dispiteous, with his dart.

As when that goodly bird, cock-of-the-woods,
From cedar's bough, plumbs, thrilled of hunter's shaft;
And with his own gore, on the forest earth,
His dying pride is stained; on that paved floor,
So fell this father of the Roman senate.
His long white beard his spouting blood distains,
And toga and sceptre, amidst his enemies.
That Gaul, then, scornful, girds off his hoar head:
And brings sith forth, to Rome's great market-place;
In sight of Romans, on their temple rock.
And sets up all gore-dripping, as it was,
On lance which yesterday slew many Romans.
Thus dies Ambustus, priest of the Red Mars,
For his sons' guilt, who vowed, with dreadful rites,
His soul, for Rome, to their infernal gods!
And were not then Ambustus slain of Gauls,
Should not great Sabine Rome have ruled the world.

Have Gauls, to-day, which through this city wend,
Found many hid in cellars, or in holes
Of their house walls, old spent men, children, wives,
That flit, like bats, Rome's wretched multitude;
Whom the defenders of yond temple hill,
Shut out from safety and the Latin gods.
Suffer all such poor wights, magnanimous Gauls,
To creep forth, freely, from their city's ports.

And Brennus caused, to be proclaimed with trumpet;
Who fled to sanctuary is of any god,
Fear not come forth. All such might freely pass,
Ere this sun sets. Soon suppliant citizens,
Yet in sore dread, for danger of the Gauls,
More bleak of face than their lapped wadmel weed,
Come trembling in the ways. Those fear the more,
Seen Gauls' outlandish guise, stern men of war,
Immane of stature, uncouth visages,
Whom party-coloured tunics clothe and braies;
Whose watches set in corners of all streets.

Now, by Suburra and Sacra, long paved ways,
To Rome's wide forum, flows white togate press,
Neath hills Capitoline and high Palatine,
Of fatal Rome. Those lift their piteous hands,
Whom tall armed Gauls hem round and horse and chariots,
Up to that quadrate hill of Rome's trine gods.
Eftsoons, from mouth to mouth, runs murmured voice,
Whose sense Gauls read not. Range Rome's reeling press
Them then, and open lane, from part to part;
That sacred pomp might pass: at whose approach,
This bare-crowned people, sign of mourning, cast
Large lap of their white mantles on their faces.

Whilst yet the Gauls admire, with bills and rods,
(Tall Gauls have these now taken from their hands,)
And pompous train, come sergeants of Rome's town.
Trace matrons then, with solemn dancing tread;
Whom sue six virgins, Hestia's priestesses.
In linen amices, with purple hem,
Lo, girded come those sacred noble maids,
Bearing from temple of the firmament,
(All lapped in purple veils,) their holy things.
They bring great Rome's palladium in a pot,
Of earth; and fire from ever-burning hearth.
Gazing on whose acorn-hewed visages.
Were heard denying some tall fair-haired Gauls,
That they would, of such maidens, take them wives!

Follow, behind those closed, then Roman throngs:
Sith by that bridge of Ancus Martius,
Of beams, o'er sallow Tiber's flood, they pass.
All go up to hill-browed Janiculum.
And there fenced orchards are and vines; where wonne,
Poor potherb garden-folk, that purvey Rome.
In cisterns these, at coming of tall Gauls,
Them hid and wells. Under a fig-tree hedge,
Now stand their few yoke-kine, by walled wayside.

But those poor wights, the sacred pomp beholding,
Pray on the wains, even in their children's stead,
Those holy things, saved from the Gauls, were laid.
This done the idols, lo, of fatal Rome,
Drawn forth of tardy oxen. Those arrive,
To Caere, a city of safeguard, at late eve.

In Tuscan tongue, tall heralds of king Brennus,
Each dawn, proclaim, that Fabii render Rome.
Brennus commands to fire, each afternoon,
New city ward; if haply, and such might bend
Foes' stubborn wills. In no wise would offend,
The king, by armed assault, that temple hill,
Abode of Rome's great trine Saturnian gods.
Him warns Carmenta, nymph, whose myrtle grove,
And well-spring mount Capitoline beneath;
Pleased that her precinct did preserve the Gauls,
Pure from all stains. Is Rome's two-headed rock,
Both temple and arx, hewn quadrate round about,
Like to a city's wall, by antique art.

One noon, were certain Gauls of that day's watch,
Young men, bruised of some hurled-down barley cakes,
With mocking vaunt, out of the temple rock.
Then mongst their fellows, at the supper fires,
Those sware to wreak them. Threescore, this next night,
Unknown unto their captains, lo, upmount,
(Night lighted of few stars,) with hardy heart,
Tempting to scale Rome's arx, by strong effort;
Where stand few harder stones, as stairs, thereout.
Those bear short stabbing glaives, betwixt their teeth:
On their forearms, are lapped, for shields, their cloaks.
First Alopin, ladder, of strong shoulders, stooped,
Makes: each one, stedfast then, his fellow uplifts.
Each upholds other: thus they mount, from steep,
To steep. Romans forewatched, in summer heat,
And sick of corses' stench and famishment,
With slumber's pleasant weight, lie now oppressed:
Where entered, like some night-fowl, barefoot, Gauls,
Gin sleepers pierce: whose groaning spirits pass.

Them lacked but Fortune, else had of few Gauls,
That night, been won the rock of fatal Rome.
For waked, in Juno's fane, her sacred geese,
Gaggling! Start heavy then, from troubled sleep,
Romans. Men, caught their arms, blow dying fires:
Cometh, running, Manlius, soon, with six score spears,
And Roman knights: gainst few young valiant Gauls.

Might those, not long, then poise sustain of Romans.
They to Tarpean breastwork overborne,
Backward, being few; and that with many wounds,
Most fall, there slain; and dreadful the rest hurl,
Headlong! Sith Romans all give thanks to Manlius:
And bring him, each, for their lives saved and Rome,
Gifts, barley cakes; and their scant cades of wine.

Nor many days, ere scarcity is of corn,
In the army also of beleaguering Gauls.
Then Brennus, who on sick-bed lies, in Rome,
Tossed of a summer fever, in three powers,
Departs his army. The Saturnian hill,
Part left round-sieging, he another sends,
To search through Roman field, with horse and chariots,
For victual: duke of these is Centigern.
The third, his sick, he sends, with Caturix;
To Tibur city, on the neighbour hills.

Vast silence, sith, is in beleaguered Rome,
Wasted and burned. Among her ruinous heaps,
Languish the Gauls; like weary, then, are Romans.
Pale Famine looks down from their temple hill
Gaul that meets Gaul, with straitened brows, requires
Tiding of Brennus, who comes no more forth:
Nor found is leechdom, for these foreign ills;
And the air is full of reek of funerals.

Rumour of disadventure springs, mongst Gauls.
Is noised, were Heremod's war-hounds seen, by night,
Run in Rome's streets. Then messengers are come in,
Cisalpine Gauls; that, night-time, journeying, hid,
In some thick brakes, have every daylight lain.
These secret word, from Santhia, bring to Brennus,
How Boii and Lingones, false Cispadine Gauls,
To Umbrian-Tuscan league, would join their powers.

Then Brennus made, for one day, truce with Romans.

Descend their consuls, parley with the Gauls.
Hungry their plight, and squalid is their weed.
Have eyes as wolves, these Romans! For their lives,
And their rock saved and fane of Rome's great gods.
They covenant to pay ransom, thousand pounds'
Weight of burned gold. They sware, are Fabii dead,
And are mansworn. Behold, made this accord,
Their magistrates bring forth, from Juno's porch,
Coined gold. Gauls' dukes, some taking in their hands,
Admire strange effigies, of wolf-suckled kings!
Sith, lo, fetched forth, (for yet there lacketh poise,
Of gold,) that temple's uphanged ornaments!
Last bring their jewels mourning wives of Rome:
And all weighs Gabius, at their temple stairs.
Looks godlike Brennus on, magnanimous:
But Gauls' king, spying their Italic malice,
Guileful in weights, his broad Cheruscan brand,
(Lamp of Transalpine Gauls, and Heremod's Almains!)

Into that other basket, scornful, cast;
And, Woe, unto who vanquished! sternly spake;
The remnant he forgives, impetuous:
So loud commands, blow the repair, through Rome.

He mounts then chariot, with Verpolitus.
Gauls, gathered ready, in the ruinous streets,
Then gladly pass dim threshold of Rome's gates.
Upon that orchard hill, they lodge all night,
Which Pincian sith was named: and speedy chariots,
The king, to Centigern, sends, warning return,
Out of the fields; for he at morrow, ascends,
With the main host, to Caturix, duke, at Tibur.

At new day, turns his back, the glorious Briton,
Upon great perjured, ransomed, ruinous Rome,
Which yet doth burn and smoke. They upland march;
And glad are Gauls, as in that summer heat,
To reach fresh breathing coast. Nigh Tibur's gates,
Now noon, the royal leathern booth is stretched,
Where of Albunea is, (fatidic nymph,)
The fountain-oracle and cool cedar grove.
And Brennus cast in, of the Roman gold,
In her clear pool, mongst captains of his Gauls.

Then, running, two men seen, that breathless, quite,
Approach! Who first, is a tall Briton Gaul:
Who next an Almain; both with deadly looks,
And both of the light armed. These, first of five
Men, runners, from duke Centigern, arrive.

Duke Centigern, is, they cry, beset of Romans!
At even, the king's message he received;
That captain blew then trumpet, to call in,
From field, his scattered bands, to fence of banks,
Which had they cast about a castel-hill;
Whence he, ere morning star, to-night should march.
There they, in squadrons, were lain down to sleep,
Set slender ward. All slumbering, towards midnight,
Men marching, by the moon, with glittering spears,
In the low plain, by way of Veii, pass.
Barked war-hounds, whence those, that were Romans armed,
Halted, perceived their camp; and seemed consult.
Formed phalanx, then, they mount up to assault.
Was duke of Romans some chief magistrate,
Who rode mongst shining axes, and Camill,
Was heard his shouted name. (Their captain, he
Was, who, with ten years' siege, wan Veii; Rome,
Of Gauls, was taken, in an afternoon!)

The full moon shone from clouds: mounted those foes,
Deep wavering ranks of bronze. But not few Gauls,
Vext by a fever, hardly manage arms.
Duke Centigern shouted, Who, swift-foot, this tiding
Might bring unto king Brennus; should his name
Aye sound, in lays, of the victorious Gauls!
Outlept then five; and brake through battled Romans.

Brennus sends hundred speedy chariots;
And he commands, mount with them the trimarck;
To succour Centigern: and cries, angry in heart;
They fire all village-steads round, to the walls
Of ransomed Rome. Those, lo, as storm, depart.
They hold swift course down to Ciminian wood.

Was lighting now the sun, to her late eve,
When they draw nigh, to place, where, Cerdix duke,
(For fallen is Centigern, in the long night strife!
Whom Cadivor succeeding, soon was slain,)
Yet fight the Gauls, by multitude, beset.

Yonder, behold, a valorous remnant, Gauls
And mingled Almains, that defend the bank!
Wounded the most, for weariness, pant the rest;
That each, gainst many, and having no more darts,
Hurl stones. The wheels, the war-hounds, the trimarch)
Of Brennus, like to storm, out of the north,
Arrive! Leap Briton warriors down, from carts.

And they, now, falling on the Romans' necks,
Hew shields, pierce hauberks, of hard-tempered bronze.
Break the tnmarch through Romans, with stiff spears.
In fury, outrushing some sick Gaul, mongst Romans,
Camillus smote. Then Romans draw back foot,
They lose their ranks; they turn, they flee aghast.
Fast after them pursues, then the trimarch,
Killing and slaying to Ciminian wood.

Gauls, late besieged, now sit, to sup and rest:
Then bind their bleeding wounds, among the dead.
Thereafter, delving, with their glorious glaives,
The Latin sod, bury their weary hands,
The slain. But Centigern, they, the friend of Brennus,
Lay in a chariot, in his bloody harness;
To burn at Tibur. All their hurt and sick
Warriors, (like harvest corn, whose yellow looks,)
And victual, which had gathered Centigern,
They bring, in Roman wains. But the tnmarch
Ride forth to warry and waste, burn and cut off,
Even to the ransomed walls of fatal Rome.

The rest, with Cerdix duke, be come, that night,
Weary, to Tibur. Brennus, Centigern dead,
With his own royal hands, lifts from the chariot.
Then gathered mourning Gauls much funeral wood.
Under the stars; they strew, sith, a vast pyre.
And when long-haired Carnutes' priests have laid,
Thereon, the corse; it kindles the king's torch.
Priests cast his ashes into Anio's flood,
Which streams by Rome; but over his white bones,
At day, mound Gauls, eternal monument.
Brennus, enquiring of the Sibyl, learns;
(Who bubbling rundles, in her sacred pool,
Of cast-in gifts interprets,) shall burned Rome,
This, they leave vanquished, great-grown in late age,
Through all the world, rear trophies of her arms.

One day they rest, at morrow next, remove.
Riding great Brennus, in his battle-cart,
The Briton prince, oft, casts back mourning looks,
Towards that swart mounded mould; wherein he leaves
The bones of Centigern, ah, in hostile march!
Who now with Brennus, in the royal chariot,
Communing rides, is swift-foot Vellorix;
That with a daily fever vexed is,
Malice of demon of the soil of Rome.
With the Cisalpine duke, Verpolitus,
(Whose warlike front, where he received new wound
In Roman field, with healing herbs, is bound,)
Next follows swart Ligurian Caturix.

Gauls four days, upward march. At the fifth camp
Etruscan lords them meet, with flocks from Arunt,
And droves; and that bring with them, in long wains
Third part of Clusium's fruits, corn, oil and wine.
And Arunt sends, gold-wrought, a victor's crown,
To Brennus, battled like a city's wall.

Thence, Brennus, marched; with all convenient speed.
Contends a month of days, towards Heremod,
And his loved spouse. Last, after many camps,
O'er a wide valley-plain, where they arrive;
Gauls, in the lift, (abominable sight!)
See carrion fowl, which tire upon the dead.
And lo, on a foul, gore-stained, trod-down grass,
Gaping upright, slain, spoiled, of upper weed,
Lie long-haired Gauls, (ah, who hath wrought thi scathe!)

Dead steeds, strewed broken furnitures; rusted arms,
Already with night dews; and yet are found,
None enemies' here unburied carcases;
But embers found, ben, warm, in many hearths!

Declare, for thou it only canst, the cause,
O, Muse. The main host left, in Santhia camp,
Called by Biellan was in hasty aid,
(What days was Heremod ridden to parliament;
And namely of Boii and Lingones, neighbour tribes,)
To ward the confines of king Biandrante.
Searched the same tide; false Lingones' bands, joined camps,
To that wayfaring army of stranger Gauls.
But, sith, being noised king Brennus' death, in Rome;
By covert night, they an Etruscan legion,
With a strong power received, of Umbrian spears:
Who part then of the host, of slumbering Gauls,
Here in this field, by bloody fraud, oppressed.

Moreover envy of Fame's trumpet breath,
Had swelled the recreant breast of one Palarge,
Picton, who Cadivor followed to the war,
And like was he, in arms and counsel, naught;
But painted words, as puddle blebs, whereon,
A little moment shines the sun, could frame.

His fond intent was, draw away the Gauls,
From Almain Heremod, promising unto all,
Which follow him, divide rich Umbrian soil.
Brennus is dead, he cries: behoves Gauls choose
A man, to be their king, in Brennus' room;
But not an Almain from beyond the Rhine.

He, and his friends, the Alps would liever pass,
Again and turn, freemen, to their own soil.

Then were there many found, foolhardy Gauls,
Which followed forth, by night-time, fond Palarge;
But few of Almain kin, disloyal sons,
Whose sires, with sires had warred of Heremod.

Was Fridia, queen and sacred prophetess,
To certain river isle, twixt Vercellae
And Santhia, now withdrawn; being nigh her time,
Which unto women, heaven's decree assigned.
She dwells in shadow of cool alder grove;
And oft, for tarries long the king, she weeps:
But Nertha comforts her, that lives yet Brennus.
Then many sighs she casts, soon to bring forth.
Few noble women, with her, in that place,
Go gathering herbs, meet for their lady's need.
In midday vision, Nertha her forewarns,
(Goddess which passed the Alps, that wall the world,
With Gauls in arms,) that stream should rise in flood;
Which sign is sent from favourable gods,
That Sigamer, thus shall be called her son,
Is born victorious king of Gauls and Almains.

Then Fridia, wakened, passed beyond the stream,
To a green hill: whereon, mongst cedars sweet,
Gauls, which left sick in Santhia were; wide bower
Now build for her. Sith they, at the hill's foot,
Watch round in arms. When rose, after day's heat,
Night wind, from the fresh streams, fell childing pains,
On Fridia; and she her women helpers calls.
Nor 'sdeigned the blue-eyed goddess self descend,
In form of Helga, on whom she cast dead sleep,
The queen's Cheruscan nurse. And she embraced,
With love divine her priestess, in her smart;
Between whose knees, now falls, nigh middle-night,
Child Sigamer, germ of the hero Brennus,
Noursling of Nertha. Berhta aided her,
And Holda, which being handmaids of the goddess,
Are women half divine. Sleeps Fridia anon.

Bellow the vaulted heavens; that Taran smites,
Like targe, and flings down lightnings from his hand,
Which pierce the clouds, and leap upon the ground;
And falls much rain; the river roars in flood.
Wakes Fridia, happy, at dawn. A teeming mist,
She sees, wherein that new-birth of the sun,
The heavenly thing, and pathway to high gods;
Which blissful shines, like many-hued spring,
Riding on the wide bosom of the ground:
Whereby already hath, with Berhta and Holda,
Returned the goddess, to divine abodes
The third day, risen, Fridia pale and faint,
From child-bed, royal Sigamer shows to Gauls:
That hail him, in both tongues, with joyous shout.
Then messengers run forth, men with guirlands crowned;
To city, whither went was Heremod.

With the ethling, thousand Gauls had marched and Almains,
Of the most valiant; and two hundred horse.
But laid false Lingones ambush, midst their path.
Heavy with meat, which sent them those forgec friends,
The Almains slumber round their dying fires;
Dreading, in friendly soil, none evil turn.
In the dim night, draw nigh, with silent foot,
Like stealing beasts, whose prey is murdered blood,
Five thousand spears; and harnessed are their breasts:
But wind them Briton war-hounds, yet far off.

Rise up duke Heremod's men, in shielded ranks:
And come, lo, enemies, on, in the moonlight!
Reputing Heremod, then, he is betrayed,
Them calls by name; attesting the high gods,
That abhor perjury! Wonder seen then was,
In panic fear, fast flying Lingones,
For troubled the wood-demons their false hearts;
Whom seemed the oaks, the root-fast pines, remove
Against them, threatening still their crooked arms.

Duke Heremod viewed, at morning ray, nigh hand,
Some village in wood-side; whose people fled,
When he approached. Found corn there, Heremod fenced
That hill, with pales and rampire. Flocking host
Then, Boii, Tuscans, Umbrians, Lingones,
Have him enclosed. Heremod thence sent, by night,
His runners back, with tidings, to Gauls' camp,
At Santhia: but those in the forest paths,
Were all cut off; and daily did increase,
Which leaguer Heremod round, his enemies.

As for Palarge, he, blinded of the gods,
Had marched; and followed him tumultuous routs,
Having none certain ordinance nor ensigns,
Yet early, amidst the way, by trumpet's throat,
Palarge had caused himself to be proclaimed,
New king of all the Gauls, instead of Brennus.
But Mantua passed, men of false Lingones, guides,
Palarge beguiled; and they, his folk, by night,
Forsook, in a vast marish fen. Three days,
Those Gauls then wandered wretchedly, seeking paths;
Till they are spent, for hunger. The next night,
Assailed them, sleeping, army of Umbrians.

Who first then fled, and cast his craven shield;
Wherein portrayed that bird which highest soars,
But false Palarge, who uneath noble steed,
Base thrall, unapt to ride, ignoble, mounts.
He in his coward fear, that steed's proud crest,
And gracious mane, in his ungentle arms,
Embraced, fled fast away and left to loss,
His host; and they were scattered, save few Almains,
That loud invoking Woden, lord-of-spears;
And turned to Umbrians evermore their faces,
Sternly withdrew them, made wall of their shields;
And wan forth, at day's-red, to some dim wood.

But Umbrians having slain, till they were weary,
Gauls of Palarge, they, captives, all the rest,
Bind, like to beasts; and them will vend, for thralls,
In rich Etruria. As for that Palarge,
Unworthy to be named mongst martial Gauls,
He fled, he wist not whither, fled fast on;
And aye, from lofty sell, he dreads to fall.

From every shadow, shrinks his heart aghast,
And faints in the lean chamber of his breast.
At every gossamer weft, which thwarts his path,
He gasps, as cords which should him bind to death.

If woodhack sudden shrike, in lofty forest,
His spirit faileth. Flickers any leaf,
The hew all changed is, in the folding's face:
He sweats, he blenches, doubting every bush;
And hardly he caught, again, his dastard breath.
Noise of his own steed's hooves, rings in his ears,
As dread pursuing sound; aye at his neck,
Him seems steel glide; anduiigheth fast on swart death
He prays, with double heart, to Gauls' great gods.
And promised the false wretch them many gifts.
Nor would, were he once scaped, perform his oath.
Nor more repair to Gauls, the kestrel hath,
Whom he betrayed; dread conscience only hath,
Of ill desert. And aye this pricketh on fast:
Half sliding from his sell, the lossel rides.
Where all before him seems dire dreadful dream:
Eachwhere, in enemies' march, an open grave.
Hie dieth thus, many times, before his death.
To tumbling brook, at length, he came, whose sound
Long frayed his ears; and in the meadow green,
Ie caban spied aghast: yet nigher viewed,
Mongst children small, therein, was one 'lone wife.

Then lighted Palarge, and him proudly advanced;
And standing high on nis distempered joints,
Vlade as though some great personage that he was!

Now turns from hunting, by this forest side;
Whence thus his weed to-torn, wind-blown, his locks.
And looking big and grim, the capon quoth,
Tester, discomfited were strange Gauls of Brennus;
Wherein he also, in battle, bare some stroke:
And from stout captain, whom, with spear, he smote,
This rochet took. Entered in that poor lodge,
He takes up there his inn; and asks to dine.
Howbe, Palarge, yet, made it somedeal quaint,
As so great one became. And that poor wife
Him served, of all, what little best, she hath.

But his vile corse, with meat and drink, refreshed;
That spouse he, ah, foully oppressed! He slew her sith;
And slew her children small, dispiteous;
Which her defended, when she cried, alas!
Then seeing he needs must die; covered his face,
He would, with desperate hand, have slain himself,
Had he found heart; but Dread draws back the knife
Yet slew he, in the valley, those few beasts;
Were all the livelihood of that poor place.
Sith, like mad wolf, he wandered, howling, forth.

Was afternoon, when an armed Umbrian band,
Turning from battle; wherein spoiled and slain;
And namely of this Palarge, were stranger Gauls,
Him there have found. Great rout, they with them drive,
Of bounden captives; by some of whom known,
That madman those attach, Palarge, who stalks;
And prates aye to himself, with bloody knife.
As for the father of those little ones,
And husband of that wife, which with them was:
Beheld their murders, speechless, he and scathe,
Unto that river ran and drowned himself.

All Gauls detest Palarge, then, by their gods;
And ban the caitif, spitting on his face.
Stripped the mad wretch, they cause him by them pass;
And smiteth every hand his abject corse:
Which done, and even with his felon's knife,
They him unmanned, and cut out his false tongue.
Then made he signs, to signify his mind,
And spread his frenzied hands to angry gods.
But when now all were found his damned deeds,
Men, pierced the sinews, knit, so rapt to flight,
The kestrel's feet, to tail of his own horse;
Which Gauls, with bitter braids, smite and hoot forth.
Are broken the ribald's brows, at the first stone,
And bones; his loathed carcase burst anon.
His ghost torment yet kobolds of that fen.

Hurl on their way, great army of Lingones,
With Umbrian bands; to assail new Santhia camp.
In Santhia, admonished by divine foresight,
Rose Fridia, yet from child-bed weak and faint;
And being armed with Nertha's divine targe,
She, in their midst, descends, whose gentle hands,
When they were sick, did wait upon their harms;
And bearing Sigamer babe, the child of Brennus.
How quicken the Gauls' hearts, at so sweet sight!
And all they smile on her, with reverent looks.

At Fridia's word, though they perceive no cause,
All put themselves in warlike ordinance.
They cast then earthen wall about their camp,
Ring-wise: nor had they achieved to crown the dyke,
With pales, when brake from wood, forth, with vast shout,
That bordered Santhia plain, foes' blood-stained host,
(Wherefor more fell and dreadful their swart looks!)
Like Fridia, to some image of just gods,
Which look down on the froward deeds of men,
She stands, on thill-board of her wain; and her
Full paps give suck to babe-king Sigamer:
Then in the arms of Osset, maiden thrall,
Who joying him received, the queen deposed.
Mounts Fridia now upon the walls, and bears
Bright sinewed bow: and quiver hangs of Brennus,
On the queen's shoulder, full of bearded shafts!

Her other hand that Woden-shield embraced,
Which covers yet a veil: and Nertha goddess,
Her bosom girds, with more than woman's force;
To be her people's captain, in these wars.

She, priestess, murmuring, vows the foes of Brennus,
To gods of death: so swart-winged scudding shaft,
To her bow-string fits; draws, and she it loost forth:
Riding wild airs, that arrow bears her curse,
Over the phalanxed enemies; and a twang
The bow-cord gave, which thrilled those foemen's hearts!

Stalks bloody braying Strife, betwixt the hosts,
And battle joins, with infinite hands, the fiend.
Fridia shoots rife; and Nertha guides her shafts,
That they the foes' chief ones attain; and, pierced,
Sinks many a glittering helm and nodding crest.
Like adder's tooth, their warm blood drink her shafts;
But shot of Umbrians idly, as rattling hail,
Fall from her shield divine. By Fridia, unseen,
The mother-goddess stands. Now Nertha marked,
Go certain by, in heaven, huge welken god,
Unto him she calls, on height anon, by name,;
Thou Derg! He then, like herdgroom of earth's ground,
Gathering swart clouds, to please her, like a flock;
Them scruzed, as mighty udders, twixt his hands.
Ruins then on dim world, a windy flood;
And so an hail smites, in the Umbrians' faces,
They might not, longer, hold the open field:
But draw them, fallen their dukes, to covert wood.

They show themselves, at early morn, anew;
Like wolves, that thirst for blood of those few Gauls,
Whose fence a woman's arm and Nertha's targe.
By her ensample and prophetic voice,
Fridia sustains new battle; in what part
Had Santhia camp defect of hasty walls,
Till noon. Her right hand stretched then forth the queen,
Holding bright lance aloft, and cried, Comes Brennus!
And straight, inspired of Nertha, she unveiled
Her Woden targe. Recoil those harnessed foes,
In great amaze; and cease to fight their hands.

Nigh now the sun, in his ascending cart,
Midheight; few armed men seen, like one man's flock,
Are on the plain, approaching, from South part.
Brennus before them, Heremod, swift-foot run,
Eath to be known, each hero, by his port,
And shining crest! And follow after, fast,
Who noblest of their Britons, Gauls and Almains,
Glittering in number as eight hundred men.

As glorious Brennus, noble Heremod,
Did seek, erewhile, in war, each other's bane;
They now contend, both, brethren, in dear love;
Towards spouse, towards sister, like two flames of fire:
And both theirs is the young child Sigamer.
They come on, with much cry, like flock of stares.
See, scatter, at the heroes' nigh approach,
Seed of the Northern gods, fell Umbrians!
Nor those wait their hand-strokes, nor bear their shouts,
(Such fear puts in their hearts the mother goddess.)
They flee, from Santhia, an heartless multitude.

But sore constraint falls in the travailled breasts,
Of those two running dukes, that shine far off;
Which gleam have seen, o'er field, of Guidion's shield,
And see now glancing morion of the queen.
They lift devout, up to the heavenly towers,
Their armed hands. They run now, where, the grass,
Strew Umbrian dead. New cold creeps in their loins,
When, drawing nigh, they, Fridia's tilted wain,
May plainly see, thick-fledged of long war-shafts!
Which, gainst her life, her enemies lately shot.
Blessed be the gods! she stands forth, them receive:
Her helm now doffs; and they embrace and kiss.
Then Fridia shows them blue-eyed Sigamer,
Whom Osset rocks, with sweet Hesperian song,
And looks of love, babe suckled in the wars.
And smiles, unto them both, the royal child.

When of this blissful day, the sun dismounts,
Captains and kings sit, yet in their war weed,
Under fair chesten boughs; and with the queen,
They sup. Turn rowan spits, beside the hearth,
Swart young men, captives of Iberian war,
With pleasant smell of roast, to hungry hearts.
Young warriors set on bread, before the dukes,
On whom they wait; and pour, in gold-lipped cups,
(Horns of the great wild ox of forest Almaigne,)
Ausonian blood -red wine. Sup martial Gauls,
At thousand fires; and feel revive their hearts.

An herald, after meat, from the duke's hearth,
Blows mournful note; in sign, all silent drink,
And pour wine out, upon the foster earth;
To memory of their dead, in battle slain,
Or sickness, or through malice of some god
Oft as some chief one, loud records that herald,
His eyeballs, wherein born are burning drops,
Shrouds many a man of Gauls' tall warriors.

Uprose at the king's feet, a Briton bard;
He took his rote from off his neck, and toucht
The silver wires, and wove them in his hands,
With war-like voice, and clear as shepherd's reed,
Of each, he chants, in order due, the story;
But chiefly the high praise of Cadivor
And Amrigol. His dreaming instrument,
Then made mourn low, honouring young Centigern,
Beloved of all the army, and groan the dukes;
And Fridia weeps, and wetted her bright hairs,
Which, token of dool, the gentle queen had loost:
And all which list that silver-shrill lament,
Rue in their hearts. Then ceased the vates sing,
That himself weeps. And, that day, the name, erst,
Of Rome, was heard, upon the chords of Samoth.

Relates then Brennus, briefly, the emprise
Of Tuscan Clusium, tells of vanquished Rome,
And that soil's sickness; and prince Centigern slain.
Whereafter, ethling Heremod gan rehearse,
How Lingones, his stout warriors, in their march,
(Like beasts in pen, and howling wolves without,)
Beset; which soon were infinite swarms: sith Brennus,
Being, after days, of those, heard to approach.
They spersed, by night-time. He, on whom were left,
Then sallied suddenly; and, before his warriors,
(That them, which fled, with slaying sword, pursued,
And furious spears,) those fell down, in thick wood.

Standing without, record then loud-voiced heralds,
The royal words; which heard, men joyful shout,
And smite to hollow shields, their war-like arms:
Wives of the Gauls, in all the camps, clap hands!

King Brennus, proudly, girt then valorous arm
Of Fridia, mortal loved of the Earth goddess,
With jewel of Etruscan dedale work,
(His only partage of the Roman war,)
Of the red gold; whereon, of Fidius,
Winged unborn god of love, the image crowned,
Is seen: and noble Fridia, happy smiled.
But she lifts, sudden, in prophetic mood,
Uprisen, hark! loud presaging voice to arms!
Gauls' main camp, Fridia, illumined of the goddess,
Sees compassed round of nations enemies!
New voice of heralds, tumult, war-horns' noise!

Fell power, then, on the two kings, of the gods;
That they leap forth in harness. On them, Nertha,
Fresh vigour, breathes, and in swift course sustains;
That imped seem, on their shoulders, eagles' wings,
And under them, as bulls, leap their strong knees.
Brennus and Heremod run, in arms, all night,
Unweariable dukes; whom follow fast,
Their warriors in dim hills, with flaming brands.

When dawn, wide-clad, in gold-fringed glittering weed,
Springs; on returning host, which Vellorix leads,
They beat; and aids, which hurt Verpolitus leads:
And each, erst, deemed the other enemies;
For mist, which yet lay on that meadow's breast.
See, wayworn, march that main of war-like Gauls;
Whereof, not few, hewed like the Autumn leaf,
Come sick, from smouldering Rome. In the long path,
Go many training weary joints, uneath:
That fain would lay them down, in briars; so sweet
It were, to sleep, in cragged rocks, were, rest;
To slumber in cold mire, in wind and wet!

Thence taking only thousand chosen warriors,
The kings, of whom un vanquished is the force;
Like full-fed steeds, in race, anew leap forth.
Before them wood and hill seem, speeding, pass.
So ran they on: but did withhold the gods,
To lead the army, unwilling, Vellorix.

Nighs eve; and Nertha yet upholds their strength,
As though felt not their bruised feet the long trode.
Their beacon an hill's head; and when night falls,
Lo, certain star, whereunder say their guides,
(Men of Verpolitus,) that Gauls' main camp lies,
By a brook side, closed-in of enemies.
They halt, to sup; and then, one little hour.
Till rising of the moon, lie down to sleep:
Whence they awake refreshed, power of the goddess!
As were from night-long rest. They risen so run,
As seemeth that Nertha flings them, from her palm.

Erst from hill brow, at day, they wall discern,
Which girds-in Gauls' main camp, and dukes and warriors,
Which it defend. Are those, like great horned beasts,
Of many wolves beset; that every way,
Turn threatful heads, and ceaseless is their strife.
Like to sea's face, whereon the sunbeams brake,
Glisters wide field, with harnessed enemies.
Erst mark, who run with Brennus, of Gauls' powers,
The huge Helvetian king, known by his arms,
And by his towered targe. Next whom, be seen,
Asperian, Merovin priest, and Frisian Eormen;
And Irmenfried, who vies, in war-like worth,
Cheruscan duke, with ethling Heremod.

Then Bran, Dumnomian, whose spear-glittering men,
I Seem flames upon the wall. Next Carduan,
Who battle-king is named of Belgic Britons.

Mongst shining band of vehement warriors,
Ligurian Vara fights. Beyond whom, seen
Are, Almain warsmiths; mongst whose matchless spears.

Are Offa and Ceolin, known by their helms' crests,
In that they beat back surging enemies.
Lo, on that other hand, Italic Gauls!
Erst Biandrante, who in glorious harness,
With greaves upon his legs, of shining brass,
Stands, like bold charioteer, on his camp wall.
Beyond whom, each with their proud men of war,
Fight Marvor, Oggion, Tolsa, and Marmirol;
With whom joined bold Insubrian Garlescan,
Who war-band leads, all servants of his house.
Then strong Treveglion; beyond whom Biellan,
And Roysan's helms, Transpadine warriors:
Past whom, lo, where un vanquished Baladore
Sustains much battle press. This, they admire,
Dread dance of war, that come with glorious Brennus!
But chiefly an aged hero, in Gauls' camp gate,
That port hath made his body; and which doth fight,
(Wielding in either warlike hand, iron mace,)
With all durst him approach: and whose long locks.
Over his hauberk, hang down by the nape,
Like eagle's feathers white, the hero Bazzan,
Of martial Cenomans. Disdains this champion,
To stand, in shielded ranks, mongst lesser warriors.
A god, him from thick-flying shot, defends;
And yet maintains, in age, his matchless force.
Of all that came in compass of his hands;
In his long life, few ones returned have, home.

Gainst all the nations, which them now beset,
Fell Boii and Lingones, Umbrians; and the powers
Of thirty Tuscan towns, Gauls hold uneath.
So many are, in this field, their enemies,
That, whilst a third part fight, by turns, the rest
Might eat and sleep: but Gauls can take no rest.

This seen, from far; approaching from wood-shaw,
Lo, on, covertly, leads Brennus, his tall warriors!
Whence, with loud cry, invoked Gauls' battle gods;
They break out, and run sudden in plain field.
And, yet them shrouded Nertha's hand, from view;
Whilst they contend, to yond beleaguered walls.
Nor were those foes aware, turned towards the Gauls,
Their face; till Brennus' glaive is at their necks!

Before the axe, in woodman's robust hands,
As falls some trunk, that ruins, with vast poise,
In immense space, with many spreading arms;
So hew the glaives of Brennus that armed press,
With dreadful mingled shout of Gauls and Almains;
Hew way of blood, amongst Italic swarms,
In the vast eddies of their spears and shields.
And made them Nertha seem new mighty army.
Gauls, at that cry, leap on their rampire walls,
Marvelling! They, weary warriors, with long siege,
Then shout aloud, of Heremod and king Brennus,
The illustrious names, and blaze from trumpets throats!
Cold coward fear, breathe gods, which fight for Gauls,
Then in Italic breasts; when, from their banks,
Like giants, now issue, Gauls' beleaguered dukes.
Break Gauls, at once, forth, yelling, from all gates.
First Umbrians fled aghast, for dread of Brennus;
Fled Lingones, and them spersed forth towards thick woods.

Flee Tuscans, whose camp takes Verpolitus;
Wherein rich booty of furnitures and arms.
But all too weary, to pursue, were Gauls.
Scattered the enemies' nations, in wide field,
They fled, till eve. The fourth day's dawning was;
When, as beat quails in trammels, fall not few,
Fleeing by Santhia, on the camps of Fridia.

Then Witta and Vellorix, which there wake, in arms;
With the stern warriors, which returned from Rome,
Whom Cerdix leads, issue like stinging swarms.

Waked was in hoar moon-shine queen Fridia, amidst
The women's wains, afflicted of pale vision.
She dreamed, she captive fell mongst enemies!
From sleep, she leapt; did raiment on, and snatcht
Her bow and Woden shield, and sheaf of shafts.
Yet stooped she, and erst child Sigamer she kissed:
So ran forth, and mounts that Asturian steed,
Which cometh, the gift of Brennus, to her hand.
Leap other valorous spouses of the Gauls,
Women of war, from thill-boards of their wains.
They Fridia follow soon, to foot, to horse;
With outcries shrill. The starring morion, in
That dim light, of queen Fridia, leads them on.
Behold those wifemen hurl, impetuous,
With their spears' points, upon the enemies' backs.
Now have they, partly, cut the rearward off,
Whom they compel, to cast, for life, their arms:
Then drive, aye glorious deed, like beasts, to camp!

Fast swift-foot Vellorix, with the men of war,
After the greater flight pursues: that all
The way along, before their furious spears,
Fall down, till the hot noon; when wearied Gauls,
Bearing, on wattled boughs, their wounded ones,
Return; lo, thousand captives, reft of arms,
Driving in bounden. When they come, gainst eve,
Lo, Fridia keeps the gates, girt in bright harness!

Next day's light wanes, when cry raised on the walls,
Comes Brennus! Chariots lo, and horse approach;
And these precede the main returning host.
Thus gathered have together, from all parts,
Again, with joy, their gods, victorious Gauls.
Join then, in greeting, thousand strong right hands.

At morrow's noon, when led before the kings,
All captives; Laon, king and priest of Umbrians,
Is found: and first had him descried Biellan,
Albe he counterfeit him, in poor weed,
To be some husbandman. Are Umbrian lords
These with him, whom cut off the impetous spears
Of those bold wifemen of the war-like Gauls;
Whereby reputed all this war is ended,
For Umbrians reverence Laon as a god.

And all who rich and noble, (which made known
By men of Arunt and Verpolitus,)
Are held to ransom. The now wearied Gauls,
In standing camps abide, then, certain days.
And cast the dread of them, their battle gods,
On all the enemies of great glorious Brennus.
Then Tuscan cities sue, for peace, to Gauls,
And Umbrians, sending solemn embassage.
Disloyal Lingones send then their two kings;
Which lay all fault to charge of their young men,
Saying, they might them not refrain. But Brennus,
On them imposed to yield, of their eared fields,
Third part to Gauls: on hostile Umbrians,
Which their king-priest would ransom with much gold;
That they, yond Eridanus, all their marches
Yield, and they would have peace with Senones Gauls.

Receive stern answer, Tuscan embassies:
Upon each city, lays victorious Brennus,
A toll of victual; cattle, corn and wine.

In the king's council, certain accuse Tages,
Then saying, Was this corrupted their affairs,
Rendering false soothsays; whereby, in late wars,
The estate was drawn in peril of all Gauls.
King Biandrante sent then, summon Tages.

But that king's messengers Tages found, deceased;
Who opened in a bath, men say, his veins.

That seer foreknowing, to Etruscan nation,
By Gauls descended lately from the Alps,
Much hurt must follow; longtime used this sleight,
(Tendering his people yet his Tuscan soul,)
To Gauls, he gave Etruscan auguries;
Wherefore, he vengeance took on his own flesh.

But when hear Gauls, that strange new kind of death,
The seer, that so unmanly died, they deem
No man; for save by mouth of battle-iron,
Or bit of bronze, they hold no freeborn man
Ought die. Whence bury him his sons, not burn;
Like woman laid in a forgotten tomb,
And without honour of the martial Gauls.

Out of his city, swift-foot messengers, then,
Glad tiding, to king Biandrante, bring:
How, yester, a maid child was born to him.
Her asks, for babe-king Sigamer, glorious Brennus:
And Biandrante accords; enduring bond,
Should be, between all kindreds of the Gauls.
Soon after this, Cisalpine Gauls march home;
Charged on their necks Etruscan spoils, as much
As each might carry. And did divide king Brennus,
Unto all their dukes, gold taken in this war.

Arrived, the same day, solemn embassage,
With trains of beasts, and bearing royal gifts,
From Clusian Arunt, to the Gauls' king Brennus;
Him brother, and new conqueror of Rome,
Saluting: and Porsenna's antique arms,
His glaive of adamant, ceiled with golden flowers,
He sends, and long-maned Greekish helm of bronze;
Whereon is effigied Rome's great temple-arx,
With silver wall and golden battlement,
For crest; and king Porsenna's hauberk bright,
With Victory-winged portrayed, in the mid breast;
And shield, wherein limned air-hanged monument,
With shining gold, which wonder of the land.

To Fridia, queen and sacred prophetess,
Of Gauls Transalpine, Arunt, reverent, sends
Etruscan mirror, made of mingled tin,
And gold and steel, which like stars' burning flame;
With imagery of the twelve greater gods,
Of Tuscan subtle antique work adorned.
To Heremod, two tall steeds, king Arunt sends,
Daughters, men feign, of swift Sicanian winds:
To babe-king Sigamer, jewel, made like chain,
Of the burned gold, of many little hands,
Whose magic virtue to preserve from harms.

Bring Arunt' s legates treaty of fast league,
In brazen tablets, charactered with gold;
Wherein is graven, FRIENDSHIP, AID IN WARS,
TWIXT CLUSIUM CITY AND TRANSALPINE GAULS.
The third day take those legates leave of Brennus;
And wend with them Tolosan Vellorix,
And Bran, Dumnonian. Is this Briton prince,
Mongst all the Gauls, which passed the Alps with Brennus
And Heremod, counted fairest personage:
These friendship shall confirm with Tuscan state.

And Brennus, bronze-hooked silver-tyred chariot,
Sends to king Arunt; and, in brazen coffer,
Lo, public gift, the temple ornaments,
Of ransom-gold of Rome: and asks king Brennus,
Might these be hanged, before his city's gods;
And namely in the great fane of Tuscan Clusium,
Sign of enduring amity with his Gauls.
Sends to king Arunt, noble Heremod,
For token, amber precious cup; it is
Of proof, gainst venim and all baneful spell;
Wherein his sires, whose blood descends from Woden,
Drank mead; and poured out to the blessed gods.

These things concluded, with grave sound of war-horns,
Gauls' martial nations, which have passed the Alps,
Levy their camps; for lacks now in that place,
Herb for their beasts. At length, where Anemo's stream
Down-flows, they lodge: the place at a ford's head;
Where verging common ways, is merchants' wont,
Convene to traffic. Gauls vend to them there,
Their captives taken in late Umbrian war.

Then Gauls make sacrifice, to their war-gods,
(Which dures forth other days,) and eat and drink.
And yet, ere the leaf falls, duke Heremod leads,
Eastward, a power, to sea of Umbrians.
That coast they waste: and after not long siege;
By the only terror of their name, take Gauls
Ariminum, city fenced, at the sea waves.

Now winter nigh, the Gauls' victorious kings,
Appoint, o'er their armed nations, magistrates;
That these divide, to every freeborn man,
A ploughland, were he Briton, Gaul or Almain.
Sith Gauls, in mirth and rest, pass winter feast.
Brennus and Heremod, then, their royal booths,
Pitch at flood side: that which, have Senones Gauls,
Now Sequana named; after the stream which flows,
In Gaul, by fair Lutece. There timbering Gauls,
Of wattle and of turves, them winter bowers,
Found town, which sith named Senogallia.
Whereof when tidings come to Clusian Arunt,
He Tuscan master-craftsmen, to king Brennus,
Sends; and Gauls, taught of these, build of hewed stones,
A temple and city; and fence round with just walls.