Ave!
Just a little something I found that I think you will like.
The Roman Centurion's Song
Roman Occupation of Britain, A.D. 300
Legate, I had the news last night -- my cohort ordered home,
By ships to Portus Itius and thence by road to Rome.
I've marched the companies aboard, the arms are stowed below,
Now let another take my sword. Command me not to go!
I've served in Britain forty years, from Vectis to the Wall,
I have none other home than this, nor any life at all.
Last night I did not understand, but, now the hour draws near,
That calls me to my native land, I feel that land is here.
Here where men say my name was made, here where my work was done,
Here where my dearest dead are laid -- my wife -- my wife and son.
Here where time, custom, grief and toil, age, memory, service, love,
Have rooted me in British soil. Ah, how can I remove?
For me this land, that sea, these airs, those folk and fields suffice,
What purple Southern pomp can match our changeful Northern skies?
Black with December snows unshed or pearled with August haze,
The clanging arch of steel-grey March, or June's long-lighted days?
You'll follow widening Rhodanus till vine an olive lean,
Aslant before the sunny breeze that sweeps Nemausus clean.
To Arelate's triple gate; but let me linger on,
Here where our stiff-necked British oaks confront Euroclydon!
You'll take the old Aurelian Road through shore-descending pines,
Where, blue as any peacock's neck, the Tyrrhene Ocean shines.
You'll go where laurel crowns are won, but--will you e'er forget,
The scent of hawthorn in the sun, or bracken in the wet?
Let me work here for Britain's sake - at any task you will,
A marsh to drain, a road to make or native troops to drill.
Some Western camp (I know the Pict) or granite Border keep,
Mid seas of heather derelict, where our old messmates sleep.
Legate, I come to you in tears - My cohort ordered home!
I've served in Britain forty years. What should I do in Rome?
Here is my heart, my soul, my mind - the only life I know,
I cannot leave it all behind. Command me not to go!
Rudyard Kipling
I found this poem here http://www.poetryloverspage.com/poets/k ... g_ind.html
Vale
M. Spedius Corbulo
Roman Poems!
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Roman Poems!
Last edited by spedius01 on Fri Mar 31, 2006 4:15 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Ave!
Another poem from the pen of Rudyard Kipling.
"A British-Roman Song
(A. D. 406)
A Centurion of the Thirtieth -- Puck of Pook's Hill
My father's father saw it not,
And I, belike, shall never come,
To look on that so holy spot,
That very Rome.
Crowned by all Time, all Art, all Might,
The equal work of Gods and Man,
City beneath whose oldest height,
The Race began!
Soon to send forth again a brood,
Unshakable, we pray, that clings,
To Rome's thrice-hammered hardihood,
In arduous things.
Strong heart with triple armour bound,
Beat strongly, for thy life-blood runs,
Age after Age, the Empire round,
In us thy Sons.
Who, distant from the Seven Hills,
Loving and serving much, require,
Thee - thee to guard 'gainst home-born ills,
The Imperial Fire!
Rudyard Kipling"
Enjoy
Vale
M. Spedius Corbulo
Another poem from the pen of Rudyard Kipling.
"A British-Roman Song
(A. D. 406)
A Centurion of the Thirtieth -- Puck of Pook's Hill
My father's father saw it not,
And I, belike, shall never come,
To look on that so holy spot,
That very Rome.
Crowned by all Time, all Art, all Might,
The equal work of Gods and Man,
City beneath whose oldest height,
The Race began!
Soon to send forth again a brood,
Unshakable, we pray, that clings,
To Rome's thrice-hammered hardihood,
In arduous things.
Strong heart with triple armour bound,
Beat strongly, for thy life-blood runs,
Age after Age, the Empire round,
In us thy Sons.
Who, distant from the Seven Hills,
Loving and serving much, require,
Thee - thee to guard 'gainst home-born ills,
The Imperial Fire!
Rudyard Kipling"
Enjoy
Vale
M. Spedius Corbulo
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Kipling was one HELL of a poet!
When you're wounded and left on Afghanistan's plains,
and the women come out to cut up what remains,
just roll to your rifle and blow out your brains,
and go to your god like a soldier.
Kipling was indeed more than one hell of a poet, he had a mind that thought, and eyes that saw, and on top of that, he was one hell of a poet.
There are too many great poets in the library, that wrote wonderful poetry, but never saw or understood anything at all.
And Kipling wrote prose too, let us not forget. The Just So Stories, and of course Jungle Story, and I have a set of 7 volumes of his short stories that are largely unknown, mostly dealing with life in British India.
When you're wounded and left on Afghanistan's plains,
and the women come out to cut up what remains,
just roll to your rifle and blow out your brains,
and go to your god like a soldier.
Kipling was indeed more than one hell of a poet, he had a mind that thought, and eyes that saw, and on top of that, he was one hell of a poet.
There are too many great poets in the library, that wrote wonderful poetry, but never saw or understood anything at all.
And Kipling wrote prose too, let us not forget. The Just So Stories, and of course Jungle Story, and I have a set of 7 volumes of his short stories that are largely unknown, mostly dealing with life in British India.
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- Sergeant First Class - Panzer IIIL
- Posts: 354
- Joined: Fri Nov 04, 2005 3:50 pm
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Re: Good
Ave kyle,kyle wrote:where can you find more roman poems, I know this is a loaded question lol
Have a look here http://www.romanarmy.com/rat/viewtopic.php?t=7884
We have searched through our books and the internet to compile a growing source of poems with a Roman or Ancient flavour.
Vale
M. Spedius Corbulo