V. Death And Glory
Mark von dem Falkensfenn
Rima of Rockridge
"Mark time! Mark time!" the old hand said,
"He tries to rush you, use your head.
Don't block, outwind him; dodge instead,
You're young, you're fast. Why wind up dead?"
Mark time! Mark time! The minutes fled
No time for second thoughts, for bread
And wine and falcons round his head.
No time for marking, for the dead.
Siegfried von Hoflichskeit
Karina of the Far West
How shall I hail him,
Siegfried the swordsman?
Heritage has he of
Serpent's-bane his namesake;
Twice had he taught us the
Weight of his blade-work,
Trouncing the tallest,
Winning the West-crown.
Forth on the fair field
Strides the strawberry's harvester;
Fails he of fresh fame,
Strong striking, but stricken.
Vie for him, Valkyries!
Valiant Siegfried is vanquished.
Hugh the Undecided
Bela of Eastmarch
To Hugh, the heavy of hand in battle,
by his own self only called 'Undecided',
the griffen-guarded in goodly armor,
let stand now a stave of strife-won honor.
For bold as a bear he bore his weapons
all forth on the field to fight the mighty;
and griffin-grimly he gave what was given
of battering blows on bodies of men.
Thus often it is that eager fighters,
unknown because new, win names of honor.
Let Hugh's ride high as a hawk in heaven.
He felll, but in fighting fearless always.
Garryl Harper
Karina of the Far West
Garryl the Tarper has standit forth
And his music laid aside,
He's set on his head a pig-faced helm
His bonny brow to hide.
He's come to the field with his ain bright sword
That's shining as the flame,
He's ta'en upon his arm the shield
That knows no stain of shame.
The boldest men o' the West hae come
And he's met them ane by ane,
The knights o' the West fight on today
But Garryl Harper is slain.
Robert of Westmarch
Douglas Brownbeard
O who are these who step so slow
And wear not silk but steel array?
O these are knights who sought the Crown
And died in the West on Tourney Day.
And who is this who with them walks
Yet calls his death unwelcome rest?
He is, but would no be, their lord,
Robert of Westmarch, marching West.
Loren sur la Roche
Bela of Eastmarch
Strong are the rocks
That ageless stand
Though lightning and windstorm
Go over the land.
So, sur la Roche,
In weaponful tides,
If win he or lose he,
Our Loren abides.
