There's no name now
for those of us who watched
the legions cross a naked blade to Gaul
to fight for Stilicho, Imperium,
and all we held as holy.
I hear they died defending duty's name,
weltered in bitter blood,
but never one came back.
We, who were left, long waited
in our mosaic halls, built walls,
about the towns that were our pride.
You Saxons came, we paid you to
defend us from your brothers,
gifting you gold and land,
until our hands were empty
and we lived to see your values
fight with ours, our sons
and daughters marry yours
and learn your words
and ways, our names forgot,
our hypocausts run dry,
our libraries languish
and our gods neglected
while your strong blood and iron
your honour and your word-lore
your wisdom and your shieldwall
burn down my civitas.