Londinium

Introduction

This poem reflects on the effect of the Roman legions leaving Britain, taking with them also most of the weaponry and some of our young men (prospects in the Roman army were often seen as better than staying, given the certain threat of multiple invasions).

The populous then set about smashing the Roman gods and destroying the fine buildings, even those with central heating! The Roman buildings seemed to hold a certain foreboding so London was moved to the west and the old city became a kind of ghost town.

Some examples of this assocition:

In Yorkshire; Grimescar wood (meaning spectre’s skerry) is the site of a Roman settlement - as yet still unexcavated.

In Hertfordshire; Puckeridge (pooker ridge) grew on the site of the Roman town Ad Fines which had a temple to Minerva.

I speculate that some magical rites of cleansing would have been performed after their departure possibly by the Romano Celts and shortly later by the Saxon invaders. 

Flowing Isis refers to the Thames. 

Glædmód means happiness 

Londinium

Romans retreated, with all our war gear,

Saxons left city, they fled out of fear.

With belligerent force, was Albion blighted,

Strange foreign gods, were not invited.

Smash the old gods and, drown them in water,

In case they return, and bring us slaughter.

Break down brick buildings, and cleanse with fierce fire,

Westward of Walbrook, it’s safe to retire.

Across flowing Isis, no longer a road,

No soul now dares go, to this grim abode.

Shadow of spirits, doth Saxons unnerve,

Hypocaust heating, just spectre to serve.

Strange eerie still sights, seen in spectral town,

Spell casting wizard, in long flowing gown.

Cast spells to banish, evil oppressor,

Twilight spells sung at, foreign aggressor.

Be gone ye Romans, return to thy kin,

To darkest Helheim, return thee within.

Be gone malignance, thy powers recede,

We cast ye hence forth, with songal of seed.

By sacred power, of the old stone god,

We banish ye spirits, with flaming rod.

No sinister war spears, for ye to spin,

Out ye dammed spirits, dwell not ye herein.

With runes in the air, oaken rod to write,

Ese of Albion, we doth ye invite.

We write magic runes, with fire and smoke,

Wodan of Wild Hunt, we doth thee invoke.

We conjure thine spirit, with sacred chant,

Invoke runic spells, thine help us to grant.

In glædmód we wassail, thy sacred rite,

Spell casting by singing, into the night.

Copyright Andrew Rea May 2013