Arthur's Tower
Twas a Camelot and a quiver to root it,
One of the wanders in this wonder,
A barge had upright manners alongside it,
The flimsy caress came in with a wand.
Merlin can escape and make more of the agony,
But the king will wish for more stealing
And the knights can not provide,
So tough are the requirements of this ordeal.
To embower his wand is to steal from the king,
Mighty shelter stays at rest,
Mighty gods will please the heart,
And the tall tower repels even the dark knight.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Related quotes
Merlin
He appears to be just a regular guy,
But Merlin, he is not like you or I.
His main duty is to serve the King,
And for him, he would do anything.
Merlin possesses a happy disposition;
To protect King Arthur is his mission.
When he is given any task or a quest,
Merlin will endeavour to do his best.
Gaius, the physician, is Merlin's mentor:
His wise words should not be ignored.
Life can be a challenge for this Warlock:
For he is often working against the clock.
Merlin has met with many mystical creatures:
Some of them possess many grotesque features.
Others of them are beautiful beyond belief;
Some bring wisdom, while others bring grief.
That Merlin is daft, the King often pretends,
But the two of them are really good friends.
Merlin and his master share a strong bond;
Of Merlin, King Arthur is secretly fond.
Many a time, he's saved Arthur from death:
Saved Queen Guinevere from feeling bereft.
When he casts spells, his eyes burn bright:
It is then he makes sure he stays out of sight.
With magic, Merlin often saves the day,
But his magical powers, he hides away.
When the King is in trouble, Merlin's at his side;
About how he saved the day, he has often lied.
Neither witchcraft, nor magic, can the King stand:
From the kingdom of Camelot, they are both banned.
Merlin's magical gifts must never be revealed:
If they ever were, his fate would be sealed.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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Lamb Of God
Spoken:
After jesus was born in bethlehem in judea
During the time of king herod
Wise men from de east came to jerusalem and asked
Where is the one who is born king of the jews?
We saw his star in the east and we have come to worship him
Lord we have traveled far
Torn and weary guided by your star
There before us the living king
Halleluiah his praises sing
Herod with a evil plan
Kill the babies
Came his bold command
He tried to alter gods holy plan
God has saved him
The son of man
Behold the lamb of god
The mighty king of god
The chosen one of god
Behold the lamb of god
The mighty king of love
The chosen one of god
Three kings from a distance come
Bearing gifts for the only one
Shout to heaven sound the drum
Tell the nations
The lord has come
Behold the lamb of god
The mighty king of god
The chosen one of god
Behold the lamb of god
The mighty king of love
The chosen one of god
He came to bring us his peace
He came to bring us his joy
To bring us love
Behold the lamb of god
The mighty king of god
The chosen one of god
Behold the lamb of god
The mighty king of god
The precious lamb of god
Behold the lamb of god
The mighty king of god
The chosen one of god
Spoken:
And so the wise men the shepherds
The ox and the lamb
The angels above
All rejoiced at gods command
As a star shine from heaven
This new king to adorn
On that very first christmas
When jesus christ was born
song performed by by Donna Summer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Soil Service
Inspirit to up so fond
Fetch down that godly wand
Wave and wave so grand
Ring out well the cluttered mind
Over again, again wave the wand
Ring in afresh a soil a land
Set in liquid and gas to bind
Pattern dark and red well tilled
Sandy, loamy, yellow coloured
Grey, brown, black spread
Hill and river and wood
Up and down, side to side
Over again wave the wand
Vegetation and crops all to blend
Over again make rain-falls thundered
Forests and fields be pulsated
Again, again the waving wand
Volcanoes and oceans be befriended
And righteuous human be ever good
Geology, ecology reckoned and regarded
Again, again the waving wand
Food shelter clothe ever offered
Sylvan scene of prolificacy splendid
Stealthy, healthy life humanised
Again, again the magic wand
Not to wave but to hide
In the heart of the alert mind
A promise to conserve all that found
Again, again the promise be continued
For the soil a sacred servitude
Failed if one and all to mind
Impaired soil chucks the wand vanished
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Camelot
In ancient times, young Arthur stood,
Above the stubborn stone
That held a destiny so good,
For one and one alone...
Who held the sword within its power
Would rule the kingdom well
And suddenly, within the hour,
That secret it must tell...
When Arthur pulled and pushed the sword,
He learnt the lesson there,
That strength alone is self-assured,
A King must show a care...
As force is just the start, not all,
It's wisdom that each needs
And blessed are those who hear its call,
Without it, none succeeds...
When Merlin played his magic arts
With potions and dark spells,
His incantations fooled men's hearts
With showmanship that sells,
The kind that seems salvation's friend,
Yet pagan were his ways,
Perhaps until his very end
When he, the Lord, obeys...
Meantime, King Arthur had a dream,
A city built with love,
Where men were noble not extreme,
Still courteous though tough...
If peace could blossom like the rose,
Men had no cause to fight,
No need for men to come to blows,
To prove the best or right...
Thus Arthur chose his noblemen,
His knights who'd won their spurs,
With them, he strove for peace to gain,
No matter what occurs...
While wisdom led him by the hand,
His heart and head were one,
Such that his fame had crossed the land
From dawn to setting sun...
But Fate was working in the courts
Where justice was dispensed,
Such that King Arthur heard reports
And he became incensed...
A rage then festered in his soul
Through infidelity
And of his wife he lost control,
Despaired eternally...
Such is the bond 'twixt man and wife,
Let no man come between,
Else fear to lose his very life,
If he should intervene...
When Merlin heard the sorry state,
He mourned for Arthur's loss,
He wept at this, the twist of Fate,
As callous as Christ's cross...
The Queen discovered lust cares not
For commoner or King,
Not even there in Camelot,
Could she escape its sting...
For like a scorpion's deadly kiss,
Was lust the final flaw,
That killed a kingdom's wondrous bliss
And shook it to the core...
Think not, that Camelot was spared
The rumours and the sighs,
Though many noblemen still cared
Despite those that despise...
With heads held low, for shame, for grief,
Their legend tainted thus,
One knight fought on in his belief
The Holy Grail heals us...
And so he journeyed far and wide,
Christ's cup to heal the hurt,
Yet who knows if it was supplied?
Because the legend's blurred...
Some say it was, by grace, in time
And Arthur was restored
And Camelot endured sublime,
Blessed by our Sovereign Lord...
Yet others tell of Arthur's death,
Excalibur returned
And with the parting of his breath,
Was Arthur's dream now spurned...
But this I know, of all Man's dreams,
God's roses truly grow
Within the hearts that spurn extremes
And yearn for Christ to know...
It's not the chalice that can heal,
Forgive or mend the mind,
It's just God's grace that grants appeal,
Atonement, pure and kind...
A godly knight can journey lands,
His quest may guide him well,
Yet only Jesus understands
How Heaven saves from Hell...
Did Merlin find God's grace at last?
Did Lancelot find peace?
Did Arthur overcome the past?
The legends never cease...
Such legends now are all we've got,
That's why they're highly prized...
Yet Christians wait God's Camelot,
The Golden Age of Christ!
Denis Martindale, copyright, October 2012.
poem by Denis Martindale
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The Horseman of Conquest
He rides the fields triumphant, in armor plated gold
His horse a great white stallion, it's rider ever bold
He is the Horseman Conquest, for power does he lust
He cares not for honor, goodness, or even being just
He cares rides to war for power, to make the world his own
He dreams only of riches, a jewel encrusted throne
His sword is swift and mighty, though corrupt his soul may be
He commands a mighty army, who obey every decree
He dreams only for power, rides to war for gold
He rules from an ivory tower, where he keeps fortunes untold
The mighty King of Conquest, the Horsemen filled with greed
In golden plated armor, he rides his mighty steed
He fights for gold and plunder, he wields a mighty sword
He rides to war for power, backed by his mighty hoard
Every king of every nation, must bow before his throne
He will never stop, until the world is all his own
poem by Tim Vallie
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The Mighty
Walking this high road are warriors from an olden time
Curse on this land and the days far behind us
Dragons weve slain, rescued many maidens fair
And no man ever dared break our stride
Or the brotherhood that binds us.
Brothers are we, marching on the roads of time
From this broken land and the days that defined us
All men are free, justice is a sword we hold
Trusting in the knights noble vow
In the brotherhood that binds us.
When the broken are strong
(Freak the mighty, Freak the mighty)
When the beaten are proud
(Freak the mighty, Freak the mighty)
When the twisted can stand
(Freak the mighty, Freak the mighty)
When the silenced can laugh
(Freak the mighty, Freak the mighty)
When the hunted have turned
(Freak the mighty, Freak the mighty)
When the tortured are sane
(Freak the mighty, Freak the mighty)
When the blinded still stare
(Freak the mighty, Freak the mighty)
When the poisoned remain
(Freak the mighty, Freak the mighty)
When the voiceless can sing
(Freak the mighty, Freak the mighty)
And the shackled can run
(Freak the mighty, Freak the mighty)
And this downtrodden man holds his face to the sun
(Freak the mighty, Freak the mighty)
Well be walking high above the world.
(Freak the mighty, Freak the mighty)
Our legend will say
Freak the mighty
Freak the mighty
Freak the mighty
Freak the mighty
song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Beggar's Prayer
Precious Lord;
I have much to ask,
and you have much to do;
But Lord,
I need your Mighty strength...
for I know not what to do.
I know my place is humble,
and you are the King of Kings;
But Lord,
I need your Mighty strength...
for I know not what to do.
I'm certain that I am unworthy,
of your mercy and saving grace;
But Lord,
I need your Mighty strength...
for I know not what to do.
I walk the road that I choose,
and stumble most of the time;
But Lord,
I need your Mighty strength...
for I know not what to do.
I want to walk your path,
and help others along the way;
But Lord,
I need your Mighty strength...
for I know not what to do.
I ask for your guidance,
in setting my feet back straight;
But Lord,
I need your Mighty strength...
for I know not what to do.
I turn to you O Lord,
with open arms and bleeding heart;
Because Lord,
I need your Mighty strength...
for You alone know what to do.
poem by George Aul
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Potiential Thug's Reign
Potiential
Baby, my baby
for you have the heart of a lion
and your not affraid to let that show
Your King ROD, king of the jungle and we all know
Baby, my baby
the love of my life
the element i've been searching for
and one day soon, your wife
ROD, my love
you stand tall and stronge
high and mighty
and whom ever disrespects that...
Bows down to the KING
and the thug mentality no one takes lightly
Baby, my baby 'THUG' isnt a sin
its a code of honor
like king Arthur you create power
Baby, my baby
let me be apart of your reign!
Ardella Renee smith -Powell
poem by Ardella Smithpowell
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Princess And The Black Horse -I(Journey To Unknown)
It was a faded moonlit-night.
The wood near was very dark,
as it was too thick, dense so,
You won't see if anyone does lurk.
The princess was riding on her horse...
along the lone pass of the wood,
her father was usurped from throne,
then in captivity, she only did brood,
How to retrieve her father's honor,
and give him back his crown!
She needed the aid of neighbor king
and the help of his army around.
The night was getting dark and dark...
The howls of the wolves were heard.
The world of light, fun and frolic,
wasn't there, she was without guard.
Ah! the horse stopped as, he was afraid.
His harness bell rang breaking silence,
The princess asked -'Blackberry,
dear, why are you frightened hence? '
'N-e-i-g-h, n-e-i-g-h, 'he called princess,
The princess, patted on his back and
'Don't worry, you are the king's horse, '
said she and took out from girdle a wand.
'After midnight it'll work, ' told court sorceress.
She then touched the wand on horse's swan neck.
Wow! he turned into a handsome winged bird!
She rode on him and flew till night did break.
poem by Nilakshi Das
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Merlin
“Gawaine, Gawaine, what look ye for to see,
So far beyond the faint edge of the world?
D’ye look to see the lady Vivian,
Pursued by divers ominous vile demons
That have another king more fierce than ours?
Or think ye that if ye look far enough
And hard enough into the feathery west
Ye’ll have a glimmer of the Grail itself?
And if ye look for neither Grail nor lady,
What look ye for to see, Gawaine, Gawaine?”
So Dagonet, whom Arthur made a knight
Because he loved him as he laughed at him,
Intoned his idle presence on a day
To Gawaine, who had thought himself alone,
Had there been in him thought of anything
Save what was murmured now in Camelot
Of Merlin’s hushed and all but unconfirmed
Appearance out of Brittany. It was heard
At first there was a ghost in Arthur’s palace,
But soon among the scullions and anon
Among the knights a firmer credit held
All tongues from uttering what all glances told—
Though not for long. Gawaine, this afternoon,
Fearing he might say more to Lancelot
Of Merlin’s rumor-laden resurrection
Than Lancelot would have an ear to cherish,
Had sauntered off with his imagination
To Merlin’s Rock, where now there was no Merlin
To meditate upon a whispering town
Below him in the silence.—Once he said
To Gawaine: “You are young; and that being so,
Behold the shining city of our dreams
And of our King.”—“Long live the King,” said Gawaine.—
“Long live the King,” said Merlin after him;
“Better for me that I shall not be King;
Wherefore I say again, Long live the King,
And add, God save him, also, and all kings—
All kings and queens. I speak in general.
Kings have I known that were but weary men
With no stout appetite for more than peace
That was not made for them.”—“Nor were they made
For kings,” Gawaine said, laughing.—“You are young,
Gawaine, and you may one day hold the world
Between your fingers, knowing not what it is
That you are holding. Better for you and me,
I think, that we shall not be kings.”
Gawaine,
Remembering Merlin’s words of long ago,
Frowned as he thought, and having frowned again,
He smiled and threw an acorn at a lizard:
“There’s more afoot and in the air to-day
Than what is good for Camelot. Merlin
May or may not know all, but he said well
To say to me that he would not be King.
Nor more would I be King.” Far down he gazed
On Camelot, until he made of it
A phantom town of many stillnesses,
Not reared for men to dwell in, or for kings
To reign in, without omens and obscure
Familiars to bring terror to their days;
For though a knight, and one as hard at arms
As any, save the fate-begotten few
That all acknowledged or in envy loathed,
He felt a foreign sort of creeping up
And down him, as of moist things in the dark,—
When Dagonet, coming on him unawares,
Presuming on his title of Sir Fool,
Addressed him and crooned on till he was done:
“What look ye for to see, Gawaine, Gawaine?”
“Sir Dagonet, you best and wariest
Of all dishonest men, I look through Time,
For sight of what it is that is to be.
I look to see it, though I see it not.
I see a town down there that holds a king,
And over it I see a few small clouds—
Like feathers in the west, as you observe;
And I shall see no more this afternoon
Than what there is around us every day,
Unless you have a skill that I have not
To ferret the invisible for rats.”
“If you see what’s around us every day,
You need no other showing to go mad.
Remember that and take it home with you;
And say tonight, ‘I had it of a fool—
With no immediate obliquity
For this one or for that one, or for me.’”
Gawaine, having risen, eyed the fool curiously:
“I’ll not forget I had it of a knight,
Whose only folly is to fool himself;
And as for making other men to laugh,
And so forget their sins and selves a little,
There’s no great folly there. So keep it up,
As long as you’ve a legend or a song,
And have whatever sport of us you like
Till havoc is the word and we fall howling.
For I’ve a guess there may not be so loud
A sound of laughing here in Camelot
When Merlin goes again to his gay grave
In Brittany. To mention lesser terrors,
Men say his beard is gone.”
“Do men say that?”
A twitch of an impatient weariness
Played for a moment over the lean face
Of Dagonet, who reasoned inwardly:
“The friendly zeal of this inquiring knight
Will overtake his tact and leave it squealing,
One of these days.”—Gawaine looked hard at him:
“If I be too familiar with a fool,
I’m on the way to be another fool,”
He mused, and owned a rueful qualm within him:
“Yes, Dagonet,” he ventured, with a laugh,
“Men tell me that his beard has vanished wholly,
And that he shines now as the Lord’s anointed,
And wears the valiance of an ageless youth
Crowned with a glory of eternal peace.”
Dagonet, smiling strangely, shook his head:
“I grant your valiance of a kind of youth
To Merlin, but your crown of peace I question;
For, though I know no more than any churl
Who pinches any chambermaid soever
In the King’s palace, I look not to Merlin
For peace, when out of his peculiar tomb
He comes again to Camelot. Time swings
A mighty scythe, and some day all your peace
Goes down before its edge like so much clover.
No, it is not for peace that Merlin comes,
Without a trumpet—and without a beard,
If what you say men say of him be true—
Nor yet for sudden war.”
Gawaine, for a moment,
Met then the ambiguous gaze of Dagonet,
And, making nothing of it, looked abroad
As if at something cheerful on all sides,
And back again to the fool’s unasking eyes:
“Well, Dagonet, if Merlin would have peace,
Let Merlin stay away from Brittany,”
Said he, with admiration for the man
Whom Folly called a fool: “And we have known him;
We knew him once when he knew everything.”
“He knew as much as God would let him know
Until he met the lady Vivian.
I tell you that, for the world knows all that;
Also it knows he told the King one day
That he was to be buried, and alive,
In Brittany; and that the King should see
The face of him no more. Then Merlin sailed
Away to Vivian in Broceliande,
Where now she crowns him and herself with flowers
And feeds him fruits and wines and many foods
Of many savors, and sweet ortolans.
Wise books of every lore of every land
Are there to fill his days, if he require them,
And there are players of all instruments—
Flutes, hautboys, drums, and viols; and she sings
To Merlin, till he trembles in her arms
And there forgets that any town alive
Had ever such a name as Camelot.
So Vivian holds him with her love, they say,
And he, who has no age, has not grown old.
I swear to nothing, but that’s what they say.
That’s being buried in Broceliande
For too much wisdom and clairvoyancy.
But you and all who live, Gawaine, have heard
This tale, or many like it, more than once;
And you must know that Love, when Love invites
Philosophy to play, plays high and wins,
Or low and loses. And you say to me,
‘If Merlin would have peace, let Merlin stay
Away from Brittany.’ Gawaine, you are young,
And Merlin’s in his grave.”
“Merlin said once
That I was young, and it’s a joy for me
That I am here to listen while you say it.
Young or not young, if that be burial,
May I be buried long before I die.
I might be worse than young; I might be old.”—
Dagonet answered, and without a smile:
“Somehow I fancy Merlin saying that;
A fancy—a mere fancy.” Then he smiled:
“And such a doom as his may be for you,
Gawaine, should your untiring divination
Delve in the veiled eternal mysteries
Too far to be a pleasure for the Lord.
And when you stake your wisdom for a woman,
Compute the woman to be worth a grave,
As Merlin did, and say no more about it.
But Vivian, she played high. Oh, very high!
Flutes, hautboys, drums, and viols,—and her love.
Gawaine, farewell.”
“Farewell, Sir Dagonet,
And may the devil take you presently.”
He followed with a vexed and envious eye,
And with an arid laugh, Sir Dagonet’s
Departure, till his gaunt obscurity
Was cloaked and lost amid the glimmering trees.
“Poor fool!” he murmured. “Or am I the fool?
With all my fast ascendency in arms,
That ominous clown is nearer to the King
Than I am—yet; and God knows what he knows,
And what his wits infer from what he sees
And feels and hears. I wonder what he knows
Of Lancelot, or what I might know now,
Could I have sunk myself to sound a fool
To springe a friend.… No, I like not this day.
There’s a cloud coming over Camelot
Larger than any that is in the sky,—
Or Merlin would be still in Brittany,
With Vivian and the viols. It’s all too strange.”
And later, when descending to the city,
Through unavailing casements he could hear
The roaring of a mighty voice within,
Confirming fervidly his own conviction:
“It’s all too strange, and half the world’s half crazy!”—
He scowled: “Well, I agree with Lamorak.”
He frowned, and passed: “And I like not this day.”
poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
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5. Merry Old England
Shining armour tunics bright
A table large and round
Swords pointing to its centre
Where Arthur’s knights be found
Each had pledged allegiance
That will never be forgot
To uphold the rights of justice
In this place called Camelot
Each fought in many battles
You’d often hear them call
We fight in the name of King Arthur
For right and with justice for all
Tyrants they had vanquished
Dragons had been slain
Damsels in their ivory towers
Saved time and time again
At last the knights disbanded
All battles had been won
Back to merry old England
Where King Arthur’s job was done
poem by David Threadgold (2008)
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Shout to The Lord - Hillsong
My Jesus, my Savior,
Lord, there is none like You.
All of my days, I want to praise
The wonders of Your mighty love.
My comfort, my shelter,
Tower of refuge and strength.
Let every breath, all that I am,
Never cease to worship You.
(Chorus)
Shout to the Lord,
All the earth let us sing.
Power and majesty,
Praise to the King.
Mountains bow down,
And the seas will roar
At the sound of Your name.
I sing for joy,
At the work of Your hands.
Forever I'll love You,
Forever I'll stand.
Nothing compares
To the promise I have
In You.
My Jesus, my Savior,
Lord, there is none like You.
All of my days, I want to praise
The wonders of Your mighty love.
My comfort, my shelter,
Tower of refuge and strength.
Let every breath, all that I am
Never cease to worship You.
(Chorus)
Nothing compares to the
Promise I have in You,
Nothing compares to the
Promise I have in You.
poem by Rebecca Ryan
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God Save The King
God save great George our king
Long live our noble king,
God save the king.
Send him victorious,
Happy and glorious,
Long to reign over us,
God save the king.
O Lord our God arise,
Scatter his enemies,
And make them fall:
Confound their politics,
Frustrate their knavish tricks,
On him our hopes we fix,
God save us all.
Thy choicest gifts in store,
On him be pleas'd to pour,
Long may he reign.
May he defend our laws,
And ever give us cause,
To sing with heart and voice
God save the king.
Lord grant that Marshal Wade
May by thy mighty aid
Victory bring.
May he sedition hush,
And like a torrent rush,
Rebellious Scots to crush,
God save the king.
poem by Anonymous Americas
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Let us not mind the happiness...
Let us not mind the happiness and the grief that come our way,
For they are inseparable from our life.
None can evade them, for Lord Raghunath himself has inlaid them!
Let us not mind the happiness and the grief that come our way!
Even an upright man like King Nala, whose wife was Queen Damayanti,
Had to roam half-naked in the forest without food or water.
Let us not mind the happiness and the grief that come our way!
Even the mighty brothers like the Pandavas,
Who had Queen Draupadi for a wife,
Underwent hardships for twelve long and exacting years in the forest Without even proper sleep.
Let us not mind the happiness and the grief that come our way!
Even a woman as chaste as Sita,
Whose husband was none other than the Lord,
Was abducted by Ravana and subjected to suffer terrible misery,
Let us not mind the happiness or the grief that come our way!
Even the King as powerful as Ravana, who had Mandodari as queen,
Had all his ten heads severed and his great Lanka ravaged!
Let us not mind the happiness and the grief that come our way!
Even a person so righteous as Harishchandra,
Who had Taralochana as his queen,
Had to bear immense agony and serve in a menial caste!
Let us not mind the happiness and the grief that come our way!
Even an ascetic as great as Shiva, who had Parvati for his wife,
Was deceived by a bhil woman and had his austerities disturbed
!Let us not mind the happiness and the grief that comes our way!
When all the gods are in distress,
They remember antaryami, the lord of their hearts,
And indeed are rescued by the Sarangdhar, the bearer of the mighty Saranga bow, the Narsaiyya's Lord!
Let us not mind the happiness and the grief that come our way!
poem by Narsinh Mehta
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Midde Kingdom
everybody owns
a middle kingdom
in which one is born king
where one measures
the world and manoevres oneself
ahead of the rest, the race
the flame might waver
flicker to a little light blue
near to petering out
but as soon as the air steadies
it jumps back to show you
how tall you can actually be
if you could hold on to your dream
never giving up come rain or shine
the one middle kingdom
so well guarded no one would
even realise it is there layer by layer
inch by inch constructed
by its one and only king
the rest might be better
work, women or soccer
but this middle kingdom
never once would the sun rise
without his mighty plans
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sir Lancelot Du Lake
When Arthur first in court began,
And was approved king,
By force of armes great victorys wonne,
And conquest home did bring;
Then into England straight he came
With fifty good and able
Knights that resorted unto him,
And were of the Round Table.
And many justs and turnaments
Whereto were many prest,
Wherein some knights did farr excell,
And eke surmount the rest.
But one Sir Lancelot du Lake,
Who was approved well,
He for his deeds and feates of armes
All others did excell.
When he had rested him a while,
In play, and game, and sportt,
He said he wold goe prove himselfe,
In some adventurous sort.
He armed rode in forrest wide,
And met a damsell faire,
Who told him of adventures great,
Whereto he gave good eare.
'Why shold I not?' quoth Lancelott tho,
'For that cause came I hither.'
'Thou seemst,' quoth she, 'a knight full good,'
And I wll bring thee thither,
'Wheras a mighty knight doth dwell,
That now is of great fame;
Therfore tell me what knight thou art,
And what may be thy name.'
'My name is Lancelot du Lake.'
Quoth she, 'It likes me than;
Here dwelles a knight who never was
Yet matcht with any man;
'Who has in prison threescore knights
And four, that he did wound;
Knights of King Arthurs court they be,
And of his Table Round.'
She brought him to a river side,
And also to a tree,
Whereon a copper bason hung,
And many shields to see.
He struck soe hard, the bason broke:
And Tarquin soon he spyed:
Who drove a horse before him fast,
Whereon a knight lay tyed.
'Sir Knight,' then sayd Sir Lancelott,
'Bring me that horse-load hither,
And lay him downe, and let him rest;
Weel try our force together.
'For, as I understand, thou hast,
Soe far as thou art able,
Done great despite and shame unto
The knights of the Round Table.'
'If thou be of the Table Round,'
Quoth Tarquin, speedilye,
'Both thee and all thy fellowship
I utterly defye.'
'That's over much,' quoth Lancelott tho,
'Defend thee by and by.'
They sett their speares unto their steeds,
And each att other flye.
They coucht their speares, (their horses ran,
As though there had been thunder);
And strucke them each immidst their shields,
Wherewith they broke in sunder.
Their horsses backes brake under them,
The knights were both astound;
To avoyd their horsses they made great haste,
And light upon the ground.
They tooke them to their shields full fast,
Their swords they drew out than;
With mighty strokes most eagerlye
Each at the other ran.
They wounded were, and bled full sore,
They both for breath did stand,
And leaning on their swordes awhile,
Quoth Tarquine, 'Hold thy hand,
'And tell to me what I shall aske;'
'Say on,' quoth Lancelot tho.
'Thou art,' quoth Tarquine, 'the best knight
That ever I did know;
'And like a knight that I did hate;
Soe that thou be not hee,
I will deliver all the rest,
And eke accord with thee.'
'That is well sayd,' quoth Lancelott tho,
'But with it must be soe,
What knight is that thou hatest thus?
I pray thee to me show.'
'His name is Lancelot du Lake,
He slew my brother deere;
Him I suspect of all the rest;
I would I had him here.'
'Thy wish thou hast, but yet unknowne;
I am Lancelot du Lake,
Now knight of Arthurs Table Round;
King Hauds son of Schuwake;
'And I desire thee do thy worst.'
'Ho, ho,' quoth Tarquin tho,
'One of us two shall end our lives,
Before that we do go.
'If thou be Lancelot du Lake
Then welcome shalt thou bee;
Wherfore see thou thyself defend,
For now defye I thee.'
They buckled then together so,
Like unto wild boares rashing,
And with their swords and shields they ran
At one another slashing.
The ground besprinkled was with blood,
Tarquin began to yield;
For he gaveb acke for wearinesse,
And lowe did beare his shield.
This soone Sir Lancelot espyde,
He leapt upon him then,
He pull'd him downe upon his knee,
And rushing off his helm,
Forthwith he strucke his necke in two;
And when he had soe done,
From prison, threescore knights and four
Delivered everye one.
poem by Anonymous Olde English
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Avondale
If you're gonna rip my heart out
Could you use a knife that's dull
And rust in color
Once I die
There will be no way that you can cover
That scar. It's hard, I know.
And if I get a little blood on, you
Finally the world will know you're guilty
Know you're wrong
Of taking everything you're gotten from me
No heart. It's hard, I know.
Mighty King of Avondale
I just can't let this go
Real life ain't no fairytale
I just thought you should know
And when you're finished with the surgery, I
Really hope that you will turn to me, and
Tell me all about the fun you had
When you were cuttin up
You were cuttin up
Living like a fairytale
The Mighty King of Avondale
It all went to his head, this royalty
I stuck a knife into his back
Inventiveness is what I lack
He's always hanging up on loyalty
song performed by by Yellowcard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Avondale
If you're gonna rip my heart out
Could you use a knife that's dull
And rust in color
Once I die
There will be no way that you can cover
That scar. It's hard, I know.
And if I get a little blood on, you
Finally the world will know you're guilty
Know you're wrong
Of taking everything you're gotten from me
No heart. It's hard, I know.
Mighty King of Avondale
I just can't let this go
Real life ain't no fairytale
I just thought you should know
And when you're finished with the surgery, I
Really hope that you will turn to me, and
Tell me all about the fun you had
When you were cuttin up
You were cuttin up
Living like a fairytale
The Mighty King of Avondale
It all went to his head, this royalty
I stuck a knife into his back
Inventiveness is what I lack
He's always hanging up on loyalty
song performed by by Yellowcard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Sir Lancelot Du Lake
When Arthur first in court began,
And was approvèd king,
By force of armes great victorys wonne,
And conquest home did bring;
Then into England straight he came
With fifty good and able
Knights that resorted unto him,
And were of the Round Table.
And many justs and turnaments
Whereto were many prest,
Wherein some knights did farr excell,
And eke surmount the rest.
But one Sir Lancelot du Lake,
Who was approvèd well,
He for his deeds and feates of armes
All others did excell.
When he had rested him a while,
In play, and game, and sportt,
He said he wold goe prove himselfe,
In some adventurous sort.
He armèd rode in forrest wide,
And met a damsell faire,
Who told him of adventures great,
Whereto he gave good care.
"Why shold I not?" quoth Lancelott tho,
"For that cause came I hither."
"Thou seemst," quoth she, "a knight full good,"
And I will bring thee thither,
"Wheras a mighty knight doth dwell,
That now is of great fame;
Therefore tell me what knight thou art,
And what may be thy name."
"My name is Lancelot du Lake."
Quoth she, "It likes me than;
Here dwelles a knight who never was
Yet matcht with any man;
"Who has in prison threescore knights
And four, that he did wound;
Knights of King Arthurs court they be,
And of his Table Round."
She brought him to a river side,
And also to a tree,
Whereon a copper bason hung,
And many shields to see.
He struck soe hard, the bason broke:
And Tarquin soon he spyed:
Who drove a horse before him fast,
Whereon a knight lay tyed.
"Sir Knight," then sayd Sir Lancelòtt,
"Bring me that horse-load hither,
And lay him downe, and let him rest;
Weel try our force together.
"For, as I understand, thou hast,
Soe far as thou art able,
Done great despite and shame unto
The knights of the Round Table."
"If thou be of the Table Round,"
Quoth Tarquin, speedilye,
"Both thee and all thy fellowship
I utterly defye."
"That's over much," quoth Lancelott tho,
"Defend thee by and by."
They sett their speares unto their steeds,
And each att other flye.
They coucht their speares, (their horses ran,
As though there had been thunder);
And strucke them each immidst their shields,
Wherewith they broke in sunder.
Their horsses backes brake under them,
The knights were both astound;
To avoyd their horsses they made great haste,
And light upon the ground.
They tooke them to their shields full fast,
Their swords they drew out than;
With mighty strokes most eagerlye
Each at the other ran.
They wounded were, and bled full sore,
They both for breath did stand,
And leaning on their swordes awhile,
Quoth Tarquine, "Hold thy hand,
"And tell to me what I shall aske;"
"Say on," quoth Lancelot tho.
"Thou art," quoth Tarquine, "the best knight
That ever I did know;
"And like a knight that I did hate;
Soe that thou be not hee,
I will deliver all the rest,
And eke accord with thee."
"That is well sayd," quoth Lancelott tho,
"But sith it must be soe,
What knight is that thou hatest thus?
I pray thee to meshow."
"His name is Lancelot du Lake,
He slew my brother deere;
Him I suspect of all the rest:
I would I had him here."
"Thy wish thou hast, but yet unknowne;
I am Lancelot du Lake,
Now knight of Arthurs Table Round;
King Hauds son of Schuwake;
"And I desire thee do thy worst."
"Ho, ho," quoth Tarquin tho,
"One of us two shall end our lives,
Before that we do go.
"If thou be Lancelot du Lake
Then welcome shalt thou bee;
Wherfore see thou thyself defend,
For now defye I thee."
They buckled then together so,
Like unto wild boares rashing,
And with their swords and shields they ran
At one another slashing.
The ground besprinkled was with blood,
Tarquin began to yield;
For he gave backe for wearinesse,
And lowe did beare his shield.
This soone Sir Lancelot espyde,
He leapt upon him then,
He pull'd him downe upon his knee,
And rushing off his helm,
Forthwith he strucke his necke in two;
And when he had soe done,
From prison, threescore knights and four
Delivered everye one.
poem by Thomas Percy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Princess And The Black Horse(Final Fight-I)
And they decided to start the fight at midnight,
as the wand would work then with brilliant spark.
To unriddle the mystery of dark reign of magician,
they had to kindle the light, to annihilate power dark.
Evening called night, and night sat with blackness,
and darkest became the kingdom of prince's father.
The princess, promised to call him, prince of light,
as dark denotes, night, blackness, evil power, rather.
The King opened a box of story, which told princess,
theirs was the kingdom of Light, full of peace, gay.
It was said, the sun never sets in his happy kingdom.
But, a magician came to that king's court one day.
He played trick of black magic, and covered the sun,
blocking the rays of the sun, he set his own reign.
By his power of witchery, he made the king a lion,
turning queen, to lioness, the prince a horse in chain.
Insidious was he, sold the prince in a witch-fair.
Sordid was his mind, without hesitation he became king.
In the unknown realm the prince as a dark horse,
was bought from the fair, and in king's stable did bring.
poem by Nilakshi Das
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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