Finis Coronat Opus

As sun sinks low o’er amber fields That harvests great will yield, And paints with flame the forests drear In gayest colors clear; With even’s chilling breath, there hints A sound, a shade, a glimpse, A thing not quite of earthly home That in the shadows roams. They say the mortal curtain wanes As day begins to fade, And with the twilight breezes comes A spirit from beyond At forest’s edge, to watch and wait, And gaze on every face. He seeks the soul of one now gone, Who he in life loved long. So with the lengthening of the night, This lovelorn spirit might Perchance, one day reunion grasp, And rest in peace at last.

Amid a sea of flame and smoke, In darkest shadow, as the yoke Of evil falls upon the free, And kings are forced to bend the knee Before their city, ash and stone, There rises up a knight, alone. His robes are tattered, stained, and torn, His brothers, fallen ‘neath the horde That swarmed through ancient halls of stone And left the grandeur broken down; Through treach’rous deed of lesser man, This realm shall never rise again. But up against a demon foul, The last knight sets his noble brow And raises sword of brightest steel That e’er was forged ‘neath royal seal, And charges forth, himself forgot, To lay in dust this evil blot. A fight most terrible to see, Of flame, and spark, and life to be, Or living death in shadow’s thrall, Should darkness set his throne o’er all; Yet still the noble knight endures, His heart of courage burning pure. And so, the fiery demon falls, The heralds all take up the call; But costly is this vict’ry won, For many fell of this land’s sons. Their deeds of v...

Against a dark and mortal foe, Where cloud and shadow ebb and flow Beneath the black and fiery sky That bids all hope despair and die; Far from the West, beyond the sea, Where starlight gleamed upon the trees And eagles soared o’er mountains fair, Where endless song dwelt in the air, Behold! there swells a mighty wave Of banner, shield, and swordsman brave Upon the brink of radiant light, That pierces all the host of night. Upon the sea of grey and dark This host of light, this flaming spark, Descends, and swift, ‘neath golden flood, The shadow flees, with heroes’ touch.

When days, like oceans, ebb and flow, And men pass to and fro; When dark have been their thoughts of late, And weariness is great; When sun has ris’n and set beyond The count of mortal throng, And still the tread of Time looms grim Through all that yet has been; When generations, through the years, Have dwelled too long on fears, And deeds of greatness lie forgot, In hearts where flame is not; Beware! for now is soil of souls Prepared for doom of old, Where shadow’s seed can oft be sown, And hope be overthrown.