9/11 Annual Repost: "Enid & Geraint"

Once strong, from solid
Camelot he came
Glory with him, Geraint,
Whose sword tamed the wild.
Fabled the fortune he won,
Fame, and a wife.
The beasts he battled
With horn and lance;
Stood farms where fens lay.
When bandits returned
To old beast-holds
Geraint gave them the same.

And then long peace,
Purchased by the manful blade.
Light delights filled it,
Tournaments softened, tempered
By ladies; in peace lingers
the dream of safety.

They dreamed together. Darkness
Gathered on the old wood,
Wild things troubled the edges,
Then crept closer.
The whispers of weakness
Are echoed with evil.

At last even Enid
Whose eyes are as dusk
Looked on her Lord
And weighed him wanting.
Her gaze gored him:
He dressed in red-rust mail.

And put her on palfrey
To ride before or beside
And they went to the wilds,
Which were no longer
So far. Ill-used,
His sword hung beside.

By the long wood, where
Once he laid pastures,
The knight halted, horsed,
Gazing on the grim trees.
He opened his helm
Beholding a bandit realm.

Enid cried at the charge
Of a criminal clad in mail!
The Lord turned his horse,
Set his untended shield:
There lacked time, there
Lacked thought for more.

Villanous lance licked the
Ancient shield. It split,
Broke, that badge of the knight!
The spearhead searched
Old, rust-red mail.
Geraint awoke.

Master and black mount
Rediscovered their rich love,
And armor, though old
Though red with thick rust,
Broke the felon blade.
The spear to-brast, shattered.

And now Enid sees
In Geraint's cold eyes
What shivers her to the spine.
And now his hand
Draws the ill-used sword:
Ill-used, but well-forged.

And the shock from the spear-break
Rang from bandit-towers
Rattled the wood, and the world!
Men dwelt there in wonder.
Who had heard that tone?
They did not remember that sound.

His best spear broken
On old, rusted mail,
The felon sought his forest.
Enid's dusk eyes sense
The strength of old steel:
Geraint grips his reins.

And he winds his old horn,
And he spurs his proud horse,
And the wood to his wrath trembles.
And every bird
From the wild forest flies,
But the Ravens.

6 comments:

Cass said...

I look forward to this every year. Thanks for reposting it.

Grim said...

You are welcome. I am glad it is meaningful to you. As the years pass its flaws as a poem stand out more and more, but it is an artifact of the day, and so I don't alter it. I can still remember the day, and how I couldn't stand any longer to watch the television with its endless replay. I went to a river I'd known since a boy, and walked out onto an island in the middle of it. I sat there, for a while, and wrote this.

It's been a long time since then.

Unknown said...

I respectfully disagree; it seems but a moment since that day.

Respectfully,

Unknown said...

First post here; 'unknown' me, CAPT Mike

douglas said...

"They dreamed together. Darkness
Gathered on the old wood,
Wild things troubled the edges,
Then crept closer.
The whispers of weakness
Are echoed with evil."


And as I hear the chorus of whispers of weakness from our 'leaders', I fear for our future. Lessons that should have been learned 12 years ago, if not sooner seem to be unheard by some.

Cass said...

There are several very powerful passages in your poem. This is one that always speaks to me:

And then long peace,
Purchased by the manful blade.
Light delights filled it,
Tournaments softened, tempered
By ladies; in peace lingers
the dream of safety.


Here is another:

And now Enid sees
In Geraint's cold eyes
What shivers her to the spine.
And now his hand
Draws the ill-used sword:
Ill-used, but well-forged.


It is a fine work, Grim, and you should be proud of it. Whenever I read an old post, all the mistakes and inelegant constructions leap out at me too. But every once in a while (too seldom!) I also feel a small bit of pride in something well crafted.

I hope you feel some of that, and also know that you have created something memorable.