That truth be told, and err unfold, ne’er true had so mine head,
Been bent to way, and seen to say, and been o’er me tread,
Such callous plight, what through the night, and ‘tis an enur’s feast,
That family ties, and supple lies, and taming* of the beast,
Could O! So wring, from youth’s cold spring, precision of this sort,
My omens tide, woe be aside, when hearing the report.
But man cares not, for what is rot, in lands of Hann A’Lee?
Whence magic came, and dragons’ bane, rest in her, o’er the sea.
Zalyttera shown, what’* little known, in miens of these, my peers,
That man’s true eyes, indeed his guise, hath fallen from his ears.
Social chatter, all the latter, of this kingdom’s fall;
The end of men, how great it** been, in life, knowing you all.
For in the limelight, he’d had of fright, truly epic fights;
In the deep caves, fighting his raves, long into the night.
Goals held true, termed in long fore he lasted to the end,
And social was he, twixt the very making of his friend.
‘Gainst spirits, foes, and ravaged lows, fought fast before the men,
Before men, and ghosts, and with great toast, himself an energumen.
08-Dec-2008 21:49:45
