.o~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~o.
<~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ THE LAY OF LINA ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~>
'o~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~o'
Not tide nor squall of falling sea hast beset thine exquisite haven's shores. Years harmonious, woven since twilit time beyond account hast laid warmth upon thy resplendent coves and glistening foam-kiss'd sands. Thy docks are now numerous; valiant they are, as triumphant oaken retreats, temptresses of craft aplenty and trade to match. Thine ever-shelter'd porte, sun-swathed in majesty, lets refuge to thy people in multitude immeasurable.
But lo, the corsairs come, as tempests most severe, and rise against thy wood and stone. Fire ensueth from accursed ships of sable and thy graceful piers fall unto the very waves long fellowship hast not quelled. Pestilence is come. Thy walls are breached, thy homes cast asunder. Loss suffer'd twixt wrack and ruin overruns thy glorious spread 'til but a kernel doth remain.
Yet behold! A wharf withstands: a beacon still, 'gainst banditry most putrid. Lina, thou art lessen'd save thy unerring heart, untainted and steadfast. Grandeur fadeth mayhap, yet in thy modest stature thy chaste beauty endures.
~Dreamweaver~
January, 2010
07-Jan-2010 05:42:20
- Last edited on
04-Oct-2010 04:02:38
by
Dreamweaver