Monday, 9 January 2012

A Song of Mourning

Sir Bertrum of Solanthus
Sir Lucane of Vingaard
Sir Hector of Kalaman
Sir Tristram Goodlund
Sir Tegyr of Icereach
Sir Gregory Caergoth 
Sir Leofrick of the Plains of Abanasinia 

Your foe is defeated, the wretched have fled the field of battle and the helpless are safe from harm. You have earned your warrior's rest, songs shall be sung of your courage. 

Return this man to Huma's breast 
Beyond the wild, impartial skies; 
Grant to him a warrior's rest 
And set the last spark of his eyes 
Free from the smothering clouds of wars 
Upon the torches of the stars. 
Let the last surge of his breath 
Take refuge in the cradling air 
Above the dreams of ravens where 
Only the hawk remembers death. 
Then his shade to Huma rise 
Beyond the wild, impartial skies.


Return this man to Huma’s breast
 Let him be lost in sunlight,
 In the chorus of air where breath is translated; 
At the sky’s border receive him.

Beyond the wild, impartial skies
 Have you set your lodgings,
 In cantonments of stars, where the sword aspires
 In an arc of yearning, where we join in singing.

Grant to him a warrior’s rest
 Above our singing, above song itself,
 May the ages of peace converge in a day,
 May he dwell in the heart of Paladine.

And set the last spark of his eyes
 In a fixed and holy place
 Above words and the borrowed land too loved
 As we recount the ages.

Free from the smothering clouds of war
 As he once rose in infancy,
 The long world possible and bright before him,
 Lord Huma, deliver him.
 
Upon the torches of the stars 
Was mapped the immaculate glory of childhood;
 From that wronged and nestling country,
 Lord Huma, deliver him.

Let the last surge of his breath
 Perpetuate wine, the attar of flowers;
 From the vanguard of love, the last surrender,
 Lord Huma, deliver him.

Take refuge in the cradling air
 From the heart of the sword descending,
 From the weight of battle on battle;
 Lord Huma, deliver him. 

Above the dreams of ravens where
 His dreams first tried a rest beyond changing,
 From the yearning for war and the war’s ending, 
Lord Huma, deliver him.

Only the hawk remembers death 
In a late country; from the dusk, 
From the fade of the senses, we are thankful that you, 
Lord Huma, deliver him.

Then let his shade to Huma rise
 Out of the body of death, of the husk unraveling; 
From the lodging of mind upon nothing,
 We are thankful that you, 
Lord Huma, deliver him.

Beyond the wild, impartial skies 
Have you set your lodgings,
 In cantonments of stars, where the sword aspires In an arc of yearning, 
where we join in singing.


Return this man to Huma’s breast
Beyond the wild, impartial skies;
Grant to him a warrior’s rest
And set the last spark of his eyes
Free from the smothering clouds of wars
Upon the torches of the stars.
Let the last surge of his breath
Take refuge in the cradling air
Above the dreams of ravens where
Only the hawk remembers death.
Then let his shade to Huma rise
Beyond the wild, impartial skies.


From Dragons of Winter Night (pages 394-395)
Novel by Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman
Poetry by Michael Williams

No comments:

Post a Comment