Then Arthur fought . . .

In these days the Saxons grew in numbers and power in Britain . . .
Then Arthur fought against them.

Nennius, IX Cent

Over the grey seas came the invaders
plundering Rome's ruins
forcing the forsaken
stronghold of peace that
could not fence its fold from the wolves.
Land-hungry warriors
knowing no cities
wrecking and breaking
the long heritage of the southern lands.

Where now our champion, where could our trust be?
Only in him, the last of the Romans
leading to victory his heroic handful
from Celidon Wood as Castle Guinnion
to the great day of Badon.

But then there was Camlann
and all hope died –
Arthur was gone.

Norman and Angevin deck a legend
in courtly history and herald's blazon
till a mystic paladin rules in fairyland
but still in the west
a fiercer rebellious memory, fanned
to sudden flame with the brawl in the startled church
and the man with the withered hand wildly crying
'Arthur still lives!'

Still the barbarians
batter the gateways,
deliberate to destroy
the hated uncomprehended
hard-won heritage.

And does a shadow brush
the grass of a Wessex hill-top
while in the summer haze
sounds a ghostly echo of horsemen,
and is there a lonely mound
which even the bards had forgotten
now uneasily troubled
by an ominous presence at twilight
as Arthur, leader of battles,
grips at a rusted sword-hilt?

1941