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45

ENGLISH PASTORAL

SESSION 5 - THE DAWN OF BRITANNIA

HOW “ OMAN SED” WE E THE OFFSHO E SLANDE S?
The gods call us back
Forbid us to know
The end of creation
With mortal eyes

Why do our oars violate seas
That are not ours,
Waters that are holy?
Why should we disturb
The d ’ qu t m ?
(Roman poem, AD 9, about a shipwreck in the North Sea)

Wondrous is this foundation – the fates have broken
And shattered this city; the work of giants crumbles.
The roofs are ruined, the towers toppled,
Frost in the mortar has broken the gate,
Torn and worn and shorn by the storm,
Eaten through with age.

The ruins toppled to the ground,
Broken into rubble, where once many a man
Proud, full of wine, shone in his war-gear,
Gazed on treasure, on silver, on sparkling gems,
On wealth, on possessions, on the precious stone,
On this bright capital of a broad kingdom.

The stone buildings stood, a stream threw up heat
in wide surge; the wall enclosed all
in its bright bosom, where the baths were,
hot in the heart.

Bright were the castle buildings, many the bathing-halls,
high the abundance of gables, great the noise of the multitude,
until Fate the mighty changed that.

Far and wide the slain perished, days of pestilence came,
death took all the brave men away;
their places of war became deserted places,
the city decayed.
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(From The Ruin, early English poem, 8 century)

Prelude: the madness of Emperor Caligula