A Dream of England (or the Chronicles of Britannia)

A dream of England, beauteous fair, of all those who lived and died there

Part the Fourth:
The legend of the Giants’ Dance & the death of Uther Pendragon

When Ambrosius had put everything in good stead,
he travelled to visit the place of the dead:
where many brave Britons ‘fore Saxons did fall;
he wept for his people who once stood so tall.
“A monument will stand on Salisbury Plain”,
he said, “As a tribute to those who were slain”.
But the builders and masons, the best in the land,
felt themselves unable to produce so grand
and noble a tribute to heroic men.
Ambrosius almost despaired – that was when
a wise man said to him, “Merlin’s your man,
if anyone can build your monument he can”.
“Who is this Merlin?” Ambrosius asked.
“He’s a great magician and there is no task
that he cannot accomplish”. Ambrosius took cheer:
“Go find me this Merlin and bring him back here!”
Messengers searched through the land for to bring
this mysterious Merlin to come see he king.
When Merlin discovered what were the king’s plans
he said, “Send to Ireland for the Giants’ Dance
if you want a monument which forever will last”.
“What is this ‘Giants’ Dance’?” Ambrosius asked.
“A great ring of stones, so old and so grand,
that nobody knows how they came to the land;
rumor says that they come from a country afar,
by giants brought to Ireland from Africa”.
Ambrosius laughed saying, “this can’t be done”.
But Merlin looked sternly on Constan’s royal son,
“They are magical stones and you can be sure
there is no kind of illness that they cannot cure”.
When the Britons heard this they all said with once voice,
“These stones we must have!” The poor king had no choice.
Uther Pendragon, his brother, he’d send
with Merlin to bring back these stones from Ireland.
Now the king of Ireland, he laughed them to scorn
but Uther, a warrior much battle-worn,
with his troops ‘gainst the Irish soon put them to flight;
then they looked on the Giants’ Dance stones with delight.
But how to get them home? The stones would not flinch,
the smallest of them moved not one single inch.
Merlin, he just smiled, and with cunning tricks
soon had all the stones loaded up on the ships.
On landing messengers were sent to the king
who, with nobles and clergy, came to see this thing.
With great celebrations on Salisbury Plain
in a circle the Giants’ Dance stones were arranged.
Ambrosius named their monument, “Stonehenge”,
and they duly buried their brave fighting men.
But, all this time growing in strength, was still
the Saxons who’s stayed after Hengist was killed:
Aurielius Ambrosius’s time was soon up
when he fell foul of a Saxon’s poisoned cup.
Almost in chaos the country was thrown
‘Till Uther Pendragon stepped up to the throne.
Many more Saxon war ships were then brought
and many fierce, terrible, battles were fought:
in most of them Uther the Saxons would rout
but he never managed to drive them all out
to the day, like his brother, when poisoned, he died.
The country’s in turmoil when Merlin arrived;
the quarrelling nobles, he silenced each one
when he stated, “Uther Pendragon has a son!”


TO BE CONTINUED…

NEXT ON “A DREAM OF ENGLAND”:
Arthur and the golden age of Camelot


NOTES:
I was in two minds whether to include this story or not as it is quite clearly folklore. But a nation’s mythology is as much part of its character as its literal history and, as this account is recorded in some of the earliest written histories of Britain, I took that as license to include it. As to the real history of Stonehenge: recent archaeological research has shown that the stones were actually quarried in Wales and set up on Salisbury Plain as an ancient cemetery (or burial site, as in the story). A number of bodies have been excavated on the site itself.

A Dream of England (or The Chronicles of Britannia)

A dream of England, beauteous fair, of all those who lived and died there

Part the Third:
The treachery of Hengist & the return of Ambrosius and Pendragon

Hengist and his people from the land were gone!
Vortimer, the new king, was loved by the throng
of the entire country, though it must be said
there was one close to home who wished him dead:
Rowena, his stepmother, tried many times
to kill him, but his guards thwarted her crimes.
She, at last, found someone who, for a price,
would poison king Vortimer and end his life.
When Vortigern learned his son was dead and gone
he came out of hiding and reclaimed the throne.
Rowena’s messengers she sent to implore
Hengist, her father, to sail back once more.
Vortigern was fearful and said, “If you try
to land on our shores you and your men will die.”
But Hengist’s treachery and cunning had grown:
“I come to fight for you, to regain your throne,
I did not know king Vortimer was dead”,
were the deceitful words Hengist’s messengers said.
“The Saxons want peace!” Vortigern said to all
the people who, by now, were tired of war.
So, on Salisbury Plain, a feast day was proclaimed
for Saxon and Briton on a fine day in May.
Now caught off guard and coming unarmed,
not knowing the Saxons meant to do them harm,
laughter turned to screaming as Hengist cried out,
“Draw your daggers! Kill every man, woman and child!”
The treachery clear now – Hengist had lied.
Vortigern fled to Wales, in a castle to hide,
while Hengist took possession of land and of throne
and killed all the people and burned all their homes.
Though the king turned coward there was hope to come
when word reached the two of Constantine’s brave sons:
Ambrosius and Pendragon set sail from France,
now grown men and warriors and Britain’s new chance.
When the brothers landed the Britons took heart
and came out of hiding, a new army to start,
but first they marched to Wales to seek out the king
(they hadn’t forgotten he’d murdered their kin);
they cut down the trees, gathered branches and leaves,
and placed them round the castle from morn until eve.
When Vortigern awoke he first heard the crackle
of newly lit fire that burned round the castle.
He cried out for mercy but soon his cries died
as in brightness dark king Vortigern burned alive.
“We showed him the mercy he showed to our brother”,
Ambrosius and Pendragon called out to each other.
Then to the Saxons their attention they turned
to avenge the dead Britons whose houses they’d burned.
In one mighty battle the land was reclaimed
and Hengist was captured and shackled in chains;
Ambrosius was noble where Hengist was sly,
above all Ambrosius hated a lie
and would have spared Hengist’s life, for he was brave,
but the thousands of Britons who lay in their graves
caused the earl of Gloucester in their name to cry,
“For the suffering he caused this man must surely die!”
And the people agreed, “We must see this man dead!”
So the earl of Gloucester cut off Hengist’s head.
Though they were defeated the Saxons remained
(and soon you’ll hear how powerful they became).
Ambrosius was now chosen to be king
and, upon taking office, the very first thing
he did was to rebuild, to put right the wrongs
and restore to the Britons what to them had belonged.

TO BE CONTINUED…

NEXT ON “A DREAM OF ENGLAND”:
How the Giants’ Dance came to Britain

A Dream of England (or The Chronicles of Britannia)

A dream of England, beauteous fair, of all those who lived and died there

Part the Second:

From the coming of Hengist & Horsa to King Vortimer’s reign

Vortigern was now king, whom none dared defy,
but he’s made an enemy of a former ally:
The Picts and the Scots now vowed to avenge
the treacherous murder of their comrades and friends.
Always fearsome in battle, now enraged, they grew bolder;
soon Vortigern lost more than half of his soldiers.
“The Romans won’t help us”, the peoples’ distress
cried out to their king, “We must ask someone else!”
So Vortigern looked out across the North Sea
to the land of the Saxons, “Send to Germany,
for of them, I do hear, that they’re brave and they’re strong”
and the nobles and princes said, “Let it be done!”
And just to make sure that his foes would take flight
he gave money and land to the Saxons who’d fight.
So their strongest and bravest sailed across the water
captained by two brothers: Hengist and Horsa.
Like horses* to battle they routed the foe
and, defeated, back to their own land they did go.
Everything seemed just as Vortigern planned
but the Saxons, rather than return to their land,
when they saw Britain with its great land and wealth,
decided to stay and conquer it themselves.
First they told Vortigern dead Constan’s two kin
were sailing to England to avenge them on him.
Vortigern, fearing the dead king’s two brothers,
said to Hengist and Horsa, “Send home for others
from Germany, more soldiers, valiant like you”,
thinking, “With such an army I just can’t lose”;
but Hengist was cunning and without a flinch
said, “Give me a castle and make me a prince”.
Vortigern replied, “This just cannot be done,
only Britons and Christians can princes become”.
So Hengist asked Vortigern, “Would it be wrong
to give land I can surround by one leather thong?”
Vortigern agreed thinking, “Land that’s so small
will be no threat to my kingdom at all”.
Hengist killed the largest bullock on his land
and cut off the skin round and round in one strand,
this strand circled land big enough to build a fort:**
Vortigern had been cheated but he could do naught
for he’d come to fear these Saxons, fierce in battle,
so they built their fortress and called it. “Thong Castle” ***
Eighteen ships arrived with more Saxon supporters
and a lady, Rowena, who was Hengist’s daughter.
When Vortigern saw this girl from Hengist’s land
he fell deeply in love and he asked for her hand.
Hengist first pretended not to approve
(this was yet more scheming – the king never knew)
but, as a great favor, he would, though, consent
if the king would but give him the whole of Kent.
When this news got out the country was appalled:
the king’s sons, the people, (prince of Kent most of all);
they would not have their king married to a Saxon!
For the first time Hengist’s plans started to go wrong.
To Germany he sent for more men to come
but the people revolted, took Vortigern’s son,
Vortimer, to reign in the place of his dad,
then the biggest battle Saxons ever had
(Hengist’s brother, Horsa, was killed in the fight),
saw them driven out! Free of this ‘pagan blight’
Vortimer restored order: Though he couldn’t have known
that Hengist’s treachery was not yet fully grown.

TO BE CONTINUED….

NEXT ON “A DREAM OF ENGLAND”:
Hengist’s treachery continues and the return of Ambrosius and Pendragon.



NOTES:
* Both the names, ‘Hengist’ and ‘Horsa’, in Saxon mean ‘Horse’.
** If you think this is impossible take a large piece of paper and, beginning at the edge, cut the paper round and round in circles until you come to the middle. You will then find that you have a string of paper quite long enough to surround a brick castle.
*** “Thong Castle” is situated outside Lincoln in Caistor.

A Dream of England

— the Work in Progress monthly serial:
Introduction and Double Edition

INTRODUCTION TO A DREAM OF ENGLAND
by Stephen Rayton

A Dream of England (or The Chronicles of Britannia) was originally conceived back in 2009 when Gale gave us the writing assignment to ‘write something about England’.

History was a subject I always found rather boring at school (my apologies to any history teachers who may be reading this — it was a long time ago and, no doubt, it is very different today) but I was fascinated by the great Norse Sagas and Scandinavian heroic tales of old and wondered why their history was so much more interesting than ours (?!).

Gale had been teaching us about different poetic forms and, around the time that this particular assignment was set, I had just discovered ‘Heroic Verse’ form (a variant of which was used in the Sagas). Never being one to do things by half measures I came up with the idea of re-telling the history of England in heroic verse form. I soon realized that I had (metaphorically) shot myself in the foot, as one cannot re-tell thousands of years of history in a simple one stanza poem. So I decided to add another element I recalled from my childhood – the early morning cinema club serial adventure, a kind of ‘Flash Gordon meets The Völsunga’ – and A Dream of England was born.

The first episodes were presented at Cryptwriters meetings and went down well. However, when I was just around half way through, my computer was attacked by a virus and all the files were lost. I thought that was the end of that.

Recently I was clearing out our loft in preparation for having the whole flat insulated before winter comes on when I found, in a tatty old carrier bag with some scraps of old music compositions, the original Cryptwriters file - and this file still contained the print copies of Dream of England which I had been taking to the meetings back in 2009/10.

I mentioned this to David and we agreed that it might be a good idea (especially in this patriotic Golden Jubilee/Olympics 2012 year) to upload these – a revised and updated version with other information I have found out in the interim period added – onto Work in Progress as our regular monthly ‘Blog Serial’.

As to the piece itself: the Prologue is, of course, complete folklore and written to create the 'dream’ aspect of the piece; however, although artistic license has been taken with regard to conversations had, accounts of battles, etc (I know I’m getting on a bit but I wasn’t actually there), the rest of it, as regards character, events, etc is entirely historically accurate.

Let me just clarify this: it is not intended as an academic paper on British history, it is a work of art and intended as such. It is a re-telling of history done intentionally in an entertaining way with a view of adding some fun into the subject. Should teachers wish to use it as a companion to their regular history curriculum they are free to do so, or if you want to chant it in pubs/market places (as the Scandinavians did), or set it to rhythm and chant it you are free to do that also. Most of all I hope you enjoy it and that you keep coming back for more.

This particular ‘saga’ begins (proper) with the first Roman invasion and ends with the reign of Queen Victoria. A new episode will be uploaded at the beginning of each month, starting today with a special ‘Serial Première Double Edition’, including both the Prologue and the whole of Part One.

Be sure to come back next month for Part Two and each month from there on (you may have to scroll down as there will be other postings).

Enjoy

Stephen Rayton 6 September 2012

And now here is your 'double-edition' of A Dream of England:

Prologue: I Dreamed a Dream of England

One dark and stormy night when I

Upon my bed my head did lie,

As out went the last light of day

Images in my head began to play:

A dream of England, beauteous fair,

Of all those who lived and died there.

At first I saw a mighty sea

Where a small boy played gleefully,

Then, was a giant where the boy had been:

King Neptune and Amphitrite, his queen.

Neptune and Amphritrite had many sons

But Albion, his fourth, was his favorite one.

His sons he made rulers of the lands around

But for Albion, one good enough was not found;

Until a young mermaid came up to the king,

More beautiful than any with glowing skin;

Gold in her hair, her cheeks shined rosily

And her eyes were as honest and blue as the sea.

“O father Neptune”, she said to this man,

“Let Albion come to my beauteous land,

It lies like a gem in a sea of clear blue,

Grass of green, cliffs of white, golden sands too”.

Behind Neptune all the sea folk as one swam

To catch a glimpse of these white cliffs and gold sand.

When it came in sight Neptune rose from the sea,

“This isle of my love, Albion’s it shall be:

Albion shall rule and Albion it’s called.”

Albion the new king, ruled over it all,

For all of seven years he reigned there as lord

Until he was killed by brave Hercules’ sword.

For many years after was no ruler there

But eyes from afar spied this isle beauteous fair:

From the city of Troy prince Brutus sailed to shore

With his fleet of many ships and his men of war.

There were giants in those days, he conquered each one,

For to Albion’s land a new ruler had come.

But “Albion” it would no longer remain

For after himself Brutus called it “Britain”.

For a while Neptune still would watch over this shore

Until he grew too old to rule anymore

But just before he died his scepter he gave

Saying, “From now Britannia rules the waves”.

A Dream of England

(or The Chronicles of Britannia)

A dream of England, beauteous fair, of all those who lived and died there

Part the First:

From the coming of the Romans to the rise of Vortigern

The white cliffs and gold sands Albion once ruled

In the land named by Brutus, when giants he slew,

Stood as Britons fell before Rome’s warlike test;

Though Cassivellaunus caused Caesar distress.

Caractacus cried, “We will never be slaves”,

Yet was carried to Rome in Claudius’ chains,

But his courage won him the whole heart of Rome;

He was given his liberty but did he get home?

Julius Agricola built schools, halls and courts.

Hadrian, when he ruled, built only a wall.

In AD410 the Romans went home

And left the new Britons to rule on their own,

I say “new” because Britons, once ignorant and wild,

Now with new learning their time they beguiled;

For Britons learned more than to kill and to fight,

They learned how to build roads, to read and to write

But much more than this, as word spread through the land

Of God’s gift of salvation through one called, “Son of man”:

Amphibalus, a priest on the run from Rome,

Found himself safety in young Alban’s home;

They would talk everyday and Alban found more

Truth in this man’s words than in all Druid lore,

So, when Roman soldiers came calling one night,

The two men switched cloaks and Amphibalus took flight,

So the soldiers took Alban, who refused to deny

His newfound faith in Christ, and was sentenced to die;

Thus in Verulamium, now re-named, we find

The first Christian martyr in England who died.

From the north, the Picts and the Scots now attacked.

King Constantine’s death was a major setback

And with no king to lead them the Britons were lost,

Yet a new force would save them but not without cost;

For a man named Vortigern had a sinister plan

To get one of the dead king’s three sons in his hand:

Thus he could rule with no risk to himself.

Ambrosius and Pendragon were too young to help

So the monk known as Constans was to be his man.

Immediately Vortigern set on his plan,

From the monastery to London the two men sped,

Vortigern put the crown on the former monk’s head.

The people weren’t pleased but they feared this sly man

Who was now the most powerful prince in the land.

He hired Pict soldiers saying, “It’s the best thing”,

But he secretly tricked them into killing the king.

Now Vortigern ruled he cut off the Picts’ heads

Lest they should tell anyone his deeds of dark dread.

When the two younger brothers heard of this news

They both fled the country, lest their lives they lose,

To Brittany, France, they both ran away

To remain there in safety till a better day.

TO BE CONTINUED…

NEXT ON A DREAM OF ENGLAND:

The coming of Hengist and Horsa

Picture: St. Alban, the first Christian martyr in England.
NOTES:
From Brutus, a prince of Troy, comes the name “Britain”.
King Constantine, a wise king, was killed by a Pict soldier.
The two younger brothers of King Constan were called Aurelius Ambrosius and Uther Pendragon, the latter of which would go on to become the father of King Arthur.

The Stranger

from The Stranger

Once there was a stranger, who walked the streets alone,
not knowing any faces, not knowing any home.
The stranger saw the world outside that did not lie within,
yet the stranger looked so normal that no one noticed him.

The stranger saw the world outside inhabited by creatures
whose ways he could not understand; their attitudes and features
seemed to him a strange affair, so vague and dark and grim,
yet the stranger looked so normal that no one noticed him.

The stranger, he condemned these things as hideous and obscene
but in his heart there burned confusion, like a frightening dream.
He thought I surely can’t be part of this great monstrous thing?
Yet the stranger looked so normal that no one noticed him.

Creation’s Birth

from Showers of Blessing

First there was light
and the dark split away;
the first day was born.
There was evening and morn.

And nothing marred creation’s birth.
And man had not yet walked the earth.

The waters then parted,
firmament divides;
land and sky were born.

There was evening and morn.

And nothing marred creation’s birth.
And man had not yet walked the earth.

The seas were moved back
to let the land show,
all plant life was born.
There was evening and morn.

And nothing marred creation’s birth.
And man had not yet walked the earth.

The lights in the skies
became the first clock,
the seasons were born.
There was evening and morn.

And nothing marred creation’s birth.
And man had not yet walked the earth.

The seas and the skies
brought forth wondrous sights
as life was first born.
There was evening and morn.

And nothing marred creation’s birth.
And man had not yet walked the earth.

Then land brought forth life:
God’s glory was shown as
the first man was born.
There was evening and morn.

And nothing marred creation’s birth,
‘till a fallen angel arrived
on earth.

Open Doors

The first of September has arrived and we are now open to the public. The blog has been pruned a little but there is still a reasonable amount of work to look at, and there remains good stock on which to grow the next season's fruit.

In the spirit of openness, which will perhaps grow as we become more used to the public gaze and gain our 'Stage legs', we reveal ourselves through our work. The first item you see is a case in point, the August post, celebrating openness and a new spirit of co-operation and unity characteristic of the opening and closing ceremonies of the 2012 London Olympics. Let us move forward in the same spirit and reach new heights of creativity.

Those with author status can post works in early stages of completion, and using the editing pencil to tweak, correct, add to or delete what is posted can bring it to a finished stage whenever they wish. Any reader may comment, but please, if your screen name is a nom-de-plume or anonymous, identify yourself in some way. If this becomes a problem, Open ID may be introduced. Guest comments will be moderated, so be helpful, constructive and complimentary, not abusive or aggressive. Trolls and their fol-de-rolls will not be tolerated here, and risk being butted into banishment!

David Canning

Open ended

Proper copper petals, metalled kettles, cool.

Those distinguished sports with medals won, and who'll
with pride return, their mettle proved, have played their part.
A cauldron flame extinguished but the whole world's
heart-flame living on, a flower of light perpetual, a joy
inextinguishable, wide open power-blossoms we employ
to spike all guns, damp down the greedy fires and fears of war,
for Gaia's heart is peaceful to her core,
and we her children must live evermore
in peace; forgive, and share, and love, and sing
our song of light. This only the Olympics bring?

Our links, late forged between Olympian rings
remind us. Now rewind the time. Ages before the starter's gun,
before Promethean flame passed on, before Sol's sun
from gasses formed, so we — forever — were and will be One.

© David Canning August 2012