Quintili Vare, legiones redde
That night we whispered all: “They shall not pass!” –
no murmur else beside the creak of leather;
we silent rebels wait, huddled together
in rain that gently patters forest grass.
At length from fog we hear the clarion brass –
the lone, ill-fated wail through cloying weather .
Ten thousand warriors, straining at the tether,
cry “Kill them all!”. And so it came to pass.
Resistance and rebellion fight united,
and solidarity routs any foe.
The flame cannot be smothered once ignited;
the torch’s faithful light will always show
in endless legends, all our histories,
the bones of empire, white amongst the trees.