ARDIC ORE
HISTORY
THE FORGOTTEN ...
by Allandra Shadowfax
Round a corner quite dim
From history, 'tis wrought
Flam'd embers of memory
Of an empire once sought.
Sole left, the remains,
Of some once kingly blades;
Resting rusted in halls:
One dirk; an old maul.
With capes cloaked in dust,
Upon finely carved thrones
Perch the shadows of kings
Wearing now dull'ed stones.
In one hallowed hall,
Fine tapestry-filled,
Linger songs of the ages:
A nightingale's trill.
Oh, woe, for the night
When the battles were fought;
When silver clashed silver
And shields held for nought.
The flash of a scimitar
On great fields of snow
As arrows and flame-throw'rs
Sped forth from each bow.
Where brave men stood tall,
Breathing ice at their foes,
Clutching scabbard and hilt,
Huddled shoulders 'gainst blows.
Oh, hear loud the shouts,
Ten thousand voice-howls,
The thunder of boots
And the sight of men's scowls.
For kingdoms and empires
Grow, waver, and fall;
Time passes for all men,
Both mighty, and small.
And once, by a chance,
In great halls of cut glass
You may stumble upon them,
Hear murmurs long-past.
Bow low, and remember,
With hushed honor grave,
The deeds of the worthy,
The glory of the brave.
For one day, some traveller,
Heart-weary, bone-tired,
May happen upon ye,
Your crown......likewise mired........
ack
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