The City Lit Up
I lived between Ilex and Salix,
just north of Londinium Town,
and sometimes I climbed to the moss-well
between the oaks and looked down.
I looked at the thatch and the roof-tiles,
as red as the embers beneath,
I looked at the timber and marble,
the highways connecting the heath,
the gates, the walls and the broad bridge,
the fields afloat on the clay;
and I wondered if London would stretch
as vast as the valley one day,
![Pond in park, surrounded by bare trees, with tiny island](https://eganpoet.net/wp-content/uploads/2015/11/tottcem_pond_01_2014jan.jpg?w=300&h=225)
as vast as Rome, which had risen
from marshes and slopes long ago,
with columns touching the heavens
because the gods willed it so;
and if Rome could ever be shrinking
and sinking into the bog,
or London be burning or flooding
and melting into the fog…
The city lit up in the sunset
and faded away in the dusk;
I felt the chill in the oak-wood,
and down to my villa I rushed.
I entered the gate by the willows
and strode through the dolphins’ yard,
I passed the flickering torches
and stopped by my forefathers’ hearth.
![Roman mosaic of a mansion](https://eganpoet.net/wp-content/uploads/2015/12/tunis_bardo_mosaics_08.jpg?w=299&h=225)
My name was Appius Felix,
an heir to Aeneas of Troy;
I kept the seals and the idols
to pass them on to my boy.
I used the sword and the saddle,
I held the lyre and quill.
I lived between Ilex and Salix,
at the foot of the Moss-Well Hill.
Christina Egan © 2016
As you can see from the 100-metre-high summit of the Muswell Hill, London does stretch for many miles nowadays, filling the valley to both sides of the meandering River Thames.
You will also notice that there are large patches of green everywhere, some of them left over from ancient marshland and woodland. If you know your way, you can walk across London through woods and meadows, across hills and along rivers for miles!
My Roman observer lives in modern-day Wood Green or Bounds Green, near fictitious hamlets or villas called Ilex (holly or oak) and Salix (willow or osier).
This man firmly believes that gods guard his city and his country and that spirits guard his home and his family. He pursues some useful career in the service of the Empire, but he is also a bit of a poet.
I named him Appius after the statesman of the Republic who had contributed so much to Rome’s infrastructure as well as intellectual life, and Felix because he counts himself lucky.
You can find more on Londinium’s fortifications at Ode to London Wall and more about its straight or winding highways at Quo vadis?
Photographs: Country villa, late Roman mosaic, Bardo Museum, Tunis. — Pond in Tottenham, North London. Christina Egan © 2014