Short Story: Damsel Of The Secret Grove...

Short Story: Damsel Of The Secret Grove...

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Oh! Dolorous, that stalwart knight, he William of Arrada, (Land of the one lone shore),

Stricken of mighty hand, from the helm to the stone,

Then bravest in battle, cast down is he, from all of the fight and the gore…

~

So suffered he, from lance of that accursed knight… it is now hand-written,

That fearful knight of Black, scourge of the land, and torment of the King’s great might…

So to the sea sail and mast, sails he by stars into the dawn, with scars and pride smitten.

~

Haste then to Lycenium's shore, with wounds sore and grievous deep,

Seeks he that Damsel of the Secret Grove, she of the noble birth, a thousand years in the sleep,

Silently waits she, to heal the girth, of mortal man, and heroes fallen alone at the Keep.

~

Seek then that fair damsel there, beyond broad ferns and the green willow growing,

Awaits she to care, with lyre and urns, midst alabaster fallen, and silent ruin,

A thousand years with lyre and urns waits she, for thee, that Damsel of the Secret Grove…

~