Just for fun. I have discovered this amongst assorted ancient papers. It's a little poem I composed in 1994 as a Prelude to a "Celtic Entertainment" based on local mythology and folklore, presented here in Newport during our 1994 Spring Festival. Enjoy!
ENCHANTED LAND
Now come to our enchanted landWhere dragons roar and monsters roam
And down upon the golden sand
Amid the breakers and the foam
A water horse looks out to sea;
For there amid the noonday haze
A mermaid combs her hair, and she
Knows all the distant ocean ways.
On sunlit crags sit holy men
Like David, Brynach and their friends
Whose shadows now and voices then
Have blessed us all, and made amends.
And heroes, giants, princes, kings
Ride through the flaming sunset west
With silver spears and golden rings
Upon some grand Arthurian quest.
The sun goes down, and now we hear
The phantoms of the deep dark night.
And goblins growl, and in our fear
We dread the witch with second sight
Who flies across the winter moon
And casts her spells and leaves, they say,
Poor folk bewitched; and as they swoon
The devil talks while others pray.
The hounds of hell, do they exist
As great black beasts, with glowing eyes?
Who hears the battles in the mist
Or overhead, in moonlight skies?
Who sees the flickering candle glow
Beneath the trees or by the stones?
Who knows the knocking? Who can know
The dusty rattle of dry bones?
But now the growing light of dawn
Sends all our morbid fears away.
We wake and stretch, and with a yawn
We open eyes and see the day.
The fairy folk have come to town
With magic food and purest gold,
With dainty shoe and jewelled gown
And gifts for mortals young and old.
We know the eagle and the wren,
The dancing stones, the prancing steed.
We know the giants and the men
Of mighty word and mightier deed.
Hear Shemi Wad and Aby Biddle
Who tell tall tales of days gone by
While fairies come and madly fiddle
For dancers under azure sky.
Where is this land of moon and sun,
And dark and light, and present past?
Where’s golden girl and man of fun
With magic first and truth at last?
Why, this is our enchanted land,
And nothing is quite what it it seems.
We have our ways, and by our hand
We weave our magic in your dreams.
Brian John
Prologue to a Celtic Entertainment, 1994.
Whose shadows now and voices then
Have blessed us all, and made amends.
And heroes, giants, princes, kings
Ride through the flaming sunset west
With silver spears and golden rings
Upon some grand Arthurian quest.
The sun goes down, and now we hear
The phantoms of the deep dark night.
And goblins growl, and in our fear
We dread the witch with second sight
Who flies across the winter moon
And casts her spells and leaves, they say,
Poor folk bewitched; and as they swoon
The devil talks while others pray.
The hounds of hell, do they exist
As great black beasts, with glowing eyes?
Who hears the battles in the mist
Or overhead, in moonlight skies?
Who sees the flickering candle glow
Beneath the trees or by the stones?
Who knows the knocking? Who can know
The dusty rattle of dry bones?
But now the growing light of dawn
Sends all our morbid fears away.
We wake and stretch, and with a yawn
We open eyes and see the day.
The fairy folk have come to town
With magic food and purest gold,
With dainty shoe and jewelled gown
And gifts for mortals young and old.
We know the eagle and the wren,
The dancing stones, the prancing steed.
We know the giants and the men
Of mighty word and mightier deed.
Hear Shemi Wad and Aby Biddle
Who tell tall tales of days gone by
While fairies come and madly fiddle
For dancers under azure sky.
Where is this land of moon and sun,
And dark and light, and present past?
Where’s golden girl and man of fun
With magic first and truth at last?
Why, this is our enchanted land,
And nothing is quite what it it seems.
We have our ways, and by our hand
We weave our magic in your dreams.
Brian John
Prologue to a Celtic Entertainment, 1994.
No comments:
Post a Comment