LT 47 Epical
(A Poem)
Ambrose Silverharp, Winter 1988
Oh! How I love thee
Oh! How I cherish thee
Moments spent together
Matter most to me.
Oh! How I miss thee
Oh! How I wish thee
Could lie back in mine arms
And lean against me
But lo! Thou art far from me
Thy tomb, a fortnights' ride by charger
Far away from me.
Forsooth I could not save thee
This the failure that haunts me
I thought thee gently safe
Behind me.
Our bond is sped so quickly
Now time doth pass so slowly
Each hour I long to rest my gaze
Upon thee.
I remember leaves were turning
The autumn sun fair burning
The last that I was graced
By the sight of thee
My knights do battle before me
Hurl my foes hack to the sea
As I command this field so ghastly
I dwell upon thine memory.
Cry warning! By the Gods! Cry Foul!
A figure hast arisen behind me!
Cloaked in unchivalrous villainy!
He strives to strike a wounde deadlie!
Nine Hells! My armour encumbers me!
Hark!
His blade doth pierce me
I see red, frozen earth beneath me
Rise up with cold embrace
To greet me.
The Fates, foul knaves, hath betrayed me
I lie here slain ignobly
Run through from behind so dishonorably
My body rent so savagely
Bright youth sped so criminally
I feel Deaths' cold maw reach out for me
I shriek defiance in agonized misery
My cry filled with rage and futility
Put lo!
Pause momentarily...
Do mine eyes deceive me, unforgivably?
Or is this the face of lost love I see?
Oh Gods!
Could it possibly be?
My love hast come herself to me
Her presence quells my tyranny
As her gentle hands draw my soul gently
From body torn irreconcilably
The cold no longer chills so deep
My final wish as my heart grows weak
To enter through the gates with thee
Battle rages all about me
Companions cry final salute to me
But life no longer interests me
For alas, it is only thy greeting smile...
I see...
My love...