|
Post by marcodubnos on Jul 12, 2006 18:47:06 GMT -1
Excalibur
Death-wounded, Arthur, the Pendragon lord By Camboglanna's shore was laid to rest: In Bedwyr's hands he laid the dragon-sword, And as the sun died, bloodying the west
Bade Bedwyr fling it far into the lake. Nothing Bedwyr saw beside the bank But a splash, and rings to reeds the ripples make As he threw the sword, and watched it as it sank.
Down dropped the pommel-heavy blade, hilt first, Through the waters of the Otherworld, to break The dawn mist on the water as it burst, Upright, the rippling surface of that lake
In the mirror-world beyond, where, leaning out, To the furthest reach of outstretched fingertip A boy-king in a coracle, with a shout Then caught the rising weapon by the grip.
Such lakes are bottomless, two worlds between, Each world reflects the other through its waters: What one must end, the other must begin - And by this law such gifts of power are brought us.
|
|
|
Post by Heron on Jul 13, 2006 12:30:46 GMT -1
That is stirring stuff Nick. I particularly like the image of the Otherworld glimpsed through the waters of the lake and the way it links to the statement in the last two lines. Saying something profound in good poetry isn't easy. All the rhythmic fluidity of Tennyson with the directness of Malory. And I prefer this view to the arm clad in white samite that they give and Bedwyr's prevarication.
Greg
|
|