The Centurion, Page 3 Of 4 Poem by John Bliven Morin

'Retreat from a woman? Never!
We cannot run and hide;
we must advance across the stream
and show our Roman pride.'

'Forward, Romans! ' Lucius cried,
as he rode into the ford,
'Double-quick along the path! '
The century followed their lord.

Gaius too, led his men forth,
although he feared a trap,
across the rocky, shallow stream,
and closed his century's gap.

A sudden yelling echoed down
upon the Roman ranks
as a host of mounted riders
came down upon their flanks.

Boudicca gave a mighty yell;
The tumult louder still;
a thousand voices followed
as she thundered down the hill.

Iceni to the front of them,
Trinovantes to their right;
cavalry of another tribe
on their left flank to fight.

The Romans were outnumbered
by a hundred men to one;
their battle skills were all for naught
as they were overrun.

Few escaped the carnage
that day upon the field;
Those who fought, died bravely,
and very few would yield.

Many a Roman head soon graced
Boudicca's temple walls,
Dedicated to Andraste,
War goddess of the Gauls.

As night fell on the wooded hills,
a figure staggered forth,
emerging from the forest, dark,
in stained and tattered cloth.