The Centurion, Page 1 Of 4 Poem by John Bliven Morin

The Centurion, Page 1 Of 4



Lucius Mactus Mors,
Centurion of Rome,
stood upon his chariot
and wished that he was home.

'Forward' ordered he;
forward stepped the men,
a hundred sixty flashing spears
and helmets gleaming, then

Forward stepped his stallion,
like a legend all in white,
prized for strength and beauty
and swiftness of flight.

Born to wealth and power,
his father thought it best
to make him a Centurion
in the Legions of the West.

Paired now with his rival,
of barbarians born,
Gaius Equinus the Gaul;
Lucius felt only scorn.

Camulodunum's gates opened;
the maniple marched through,
led by Lucius Mactus Mors;
the day-watch trumpets blew.

He led his marching maniple
as easily as cattle,
o'er Albion's rolling hills,
reluctantly, to battle.

'You, Lucius, must move
swiftly to trap this queen,
this woman, Boudicca,
the boldest I have seen.'

'Her husband offered friendship
but she only offers war;
the Iceni follow her now,
'tis her they all adore.'

'Capture her alive, boy,
bring her back in chains,
and you will be rewarded well
for courage and for brains.'

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
232 / 177
John Bliven Morin

John Bliven Morin

New London, CT
Close
Error Success