title. Rome Falls, the End of a Golden Era

name. Hunor Deak

Rome Falls, the End of a Golden Era

Comments and notes: The poem excluding the titles and the name is 1066 words long, reflecting the date of the Battle of Hastings. It is a mixture of the modern characters of Britain, laid with Star Wars, Game of Thrones and Roman references. The battle poem depicts the retreat of the Romans from the British and the Irish Isles. The author ponders upon how the Romans soldiers could be helped and which magical creatures could be asked for assistance. At the end of the third act, the writer realises it was the magical creatures who drove out the Romans. By the end of the poem he declares to the audience (the soldiers listening) that they should retreat up to Scotland and wait till Enlightenment comes back, which is a reference to the Scottish Enlightenment and the Declaration of Arbroath. Explanation for each ACT:


ACT I: It describes the immediate aftermath of a battle and how the writer feels about it. This
establishes a sense of urgency.
ACT II: The writer gives a background to the story. How the Empire came to fail. There is an
establishment that magical creature(s) played a great part in the defeat of the Romans and how
unexpected their losses were. The reader also learns fully that the writer isn’t Roman and the
audience is not made up of Roman soldiers.
ACT III: The writer thinks through the people and creatures he could ask for help. This gives a good
background over the state of the Islands. It explores the wider nature of the world by mentioning
neighbouring Empires. It establishes the time of day as well.
ACT IV: The writer realises everything is lost, so he gives orders to his soldiers where to go and what
to do. He gives a sentimentalised monologue about the nature of hope.
Inspiration for the poem: Ancient Chinese Historian Describes The Roman Empire // 3rd century AD
"Weilüe" // Primary Source - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4XdPodNwSGU

ACT I
Listen noble soldier! Emperor Bernard Corbus has tried his hardest,
but there was a bad harvest,
than we had the northern wall fall,
the French Gaul,
that fiend Epetinus broke our nose,
now it falls to Emperor Pffefel of Constantinople whose message is like the ghost of battles past,
we the Caledonians are aghast!
The warrior woman Swindon the Pict,
got her battle axe broken,
by a Strathclyde witch.
The Kelpie they called her,

the great Enchanter,
she was a Pict as well,
but did that matter?

ACT II
Matter of Truth!:
The age of troubles has begun,
as something united crumbles,
disjointed,
like shattered glass.
Great misery is festered onto the land from Hibernia to the silver sands of Caledonia!
Cambria is ablaze as our allies retreat! Even on the Isle of Man all talk about defeat!
Domunus the Dreaded works his demonic magic,
as red,
Roman legions fall line by line,
so tragic!
Old alliances burn like a cinder,
ashes scattered over the Earth.
That imp,
Niels of Pughenmorgan,
crackles with a great wide smile as he reads his scrolls.
We all curse the name who started it all,
that William of Cameron!
He was a son of a Scot and a Briton,
he was foretold to unite the Kingdom!
Instead he brought us great shame.
We had the higher ground,
yet we lost all the same!

ACT III
Same truth lies ahaead!

Who will save us at this time of darkness?
Emperor Alexander De Pffefel?
Don't make me laugh!
Or perhaps one of his heroic children?
Emerging from the North, from the Wall on the back of an icy dragon?
Perhaps the Lord of the Isles,
bringing the water of life,
Morrison of castle Carmichael,
but can he withstand such might?
Perhaps the Romans shall regroup and seek help of Tim the Hobbit,
of the Shire of the Lake?
They most likely already perished,
hopes misplaced!
Perhaps we should seek the help of the green druid,
Patricia of the clan Iceni,
but she might be an ally of the Kelpie!
Curses!
The devil be gone!
Drags you down to the depths!
To the mortal Earth!
Perhaps Prince Charlie?
But I wept at his grave,
he is dead,
passed too soon!
Is there no champion on this fair land to save our souls!
We could go to the green Welsh dragon hiding in the mountains of Snowdonia,
even if we need to face the monks of St. May and St. Theresa.
No metal blade will stop our path!
We will march on the towns of Strong and Able,
like the knights of past!
But he is a lost ally,

isn't he?
After all the Kelpie rode into battle on the back of that beast!
Curse us for allying with them!
These alliances were all a sham!
That village idiot,
Gino was right,
we live in traitorous times!
His warning words, were great and important,
Yet us fools laughed at his every word!
How wrong we were,
And he was right!
Now the towns burn as we retreat into the night!
We need to find the witch of Edinburgh,
she,
the oldest and the wisest.
She battled the Enchanter,
we need her at this time of crisis!
Yes!
The young prince Geoffrey of Hamilton was raised by her!
A brave,
young lad!
Their power is a tale of legends,
but will they be up for our quest,
the challenge at hand?
Don't they have a fortress,
a city to defend?
My hopes were vein,
to hell!
To hell with my plans!
We have no champions,
they have all been cut down!

An icy shadow rose over the land and killed them all!
How I weep,
my sorrow is deep as a lake!
No lady to give a sword if there is no champion to take!
We are doomed! We are doomed!
No knight in gold armour with a plucky sidekick to save our hide!
What should we do?
Who to turn to?
We are lost on the path!
Swindon the Pict underestimated them all!
Pride does come before the fall!
Traps are lain everywhere!
Do we know if Convictolitavis that Norman Conqueror is still here?
Or is that just a random shadow!
Oh!
How my heart is stuck in deep sorrow!
The old Emperors are dead!
Dead!
The raven brought the news: Nerva, Trajan, Hadrian, Antoninus Pius, Lucius Verus, Marcus Aurelius,
and Commodus all dead!
More troubles lie ahead!
The Czar of Rus,
Vladimirovich sends his regards,
even Emperor Hsi of the ancient Confucian Chinese Empire sends us mourning flags!
Such far off lands!
As the wise Yu Huans wrote to me,
wish I could see their ancient mountain peaks!
Watching such an ancient Empire like ours burn,
rots my heart,
my tears like the poison of an asp,
they burn like Troy under the cover of night!

Is there no champion to take up our plight?
Fire!
Fire consumes everything!
Are our efforts all for nothing?

ACT IV
Nothing is permanent,
the teeth of time bites deep.
Rome burns,
but tomorrow we will rebuild!
They can take our Isles,
they can take our love,
they can burn the lands and crush our forces in all directions where the arrows fall!
But the sky is ours,
we have the future,
no dragon flies permanently,
the sky isn't their kingdom!
We have hope.
They have force.
We need to be humble and true to heart.
Us Pictish knights.
To Aberbrothock we must go,
to the gentle Highlands,
up to the ancient Kingdom of Skye!
We must make our declaration as time is at hand!
We need to find that yellow bird,
that little Phoenix,
get his blessing!
To exile we must go,
but we will return!
We have hope.

A fortress no canon can bring to its knees whether friend or foe!
We have hope.
Like a spring sun thawing the frozen ground,
liberty has always survived.
Is it a curse or a blessing straight out of Pandora's box?
Time does lie,
but we have hope.
Hope.
Is it a golden chain?
Anchoring us to the shore or to a prison cell?
Hope.
Maybe,
Is it just Serenity coupled with Bravery? The bravery of Men?
But who knows?
The times are dark and we must stand strong.
Hope.
A light in the dark.
The strength of Love!
The strength of Duty!
The strength of a noble Heart!
The strength of Men!
Hope.