I saw him three times,
This cub Caractacus –
Once as his war host
Broke in waves
Upon our shields,
For seven years
He was a heath fire
Scorching our heels.
The second time,
In Rome: he silenced
Gawping crowds
And wore our chains
Like laurel wreaths.
Lastly, by chance,
Two nights before his death-
A British dusk
Of bronze and grey,
Spilling wine,
Re-fighting lost campaigns.
Kevin Patrick McCann
Photo Nick Victor
From Still Pondering https://www.amazon.co.uk/Still-Pondering-Kevin-Patrick-McCann/dp