Finis Coronat Opus

Lantern burns into the night Casting forth its golden light O’er the pages lying still, As the author wields his quill, Writing of what passed before, Ancient, near-forgotten lore: Deeds of might and grandeur done ‘Neath the passing of the sun, Wars long waged, and battles great, Kingdoms strong, and empires’ fate; All, such things of legends told, Mem’ry past, and histories old. Yet, how shall the stories burn, And stir young hearts, with zeal that yearn, If in the past they rust and fade Within the tombs where great men lay? So, ‘neath the glow of lantern light, The author writes the tales aright.

Through corridors of ages past, As streams of Time flow, rushing fast, While many words and tales of yore Are carried onward, into lore; Yet words of heralds long ago, And tales of valor often told, Lie lonely, when without their tune Or melody they are imbued. Words that stirred a thousand hearts, As toward the battlefield souls marched, Lose feet, and limbs, when from them part The ancient lays that made them art.

‘Neath an arid, greying sky, Where the hills with heather lie, North of warm and sunny lands Flourishing ‘neath gard’ners’ hands; Where the stag and boar roam free Next to icy mountain stream, And the copse of gorse and fir Hide the birds that in them stir; Wild men there traverse the land, Strong of back and firm of hand; Snowfall, wind, or weather dark, Turns them not from winding march. Guard they still the lands beyond Ancient bounds and mighty wall; None have tamed their fiery hearts, Burning long with freedom sought.

Battlefield, in dimming light, Where Death’s angel wields his scythe ‘Mid the fallen soldiers bold; Now their souls afar do go. Gazing o’er the field of war, Knowing what had been in store, Rides the monarch, grand and tall Who destroyed the enemy thrall. Heavy weighs the toll of death ‘Pon his weary, crown-ed head; Battle won, but war goes on, ’Til the fading of the sun. Through the somber camp he rides With a sure, courageous stride, Greeting wounded, battered men, Willing them to hope again. Such strong kings are rare to find; Royalty is often blind When the fighting men have won Battlefields, yet their strength is done.