The Saga of Conn the Black - Canto I

Canto I

Long have I stood, watching the trees,
The Skies ever-changing, the grass around my toes,
Living and ever-living, undying
The Voice of the Ages.
I tell the story of Men,
Of the sons and daughters of men,
Some long forgotten, others etched in stone.
I am the song of the breeze
Amongst the waving meadowsweet.
I am the voice of the heart unsung,
The harp unstrung, the plan undone.
Three songs have I sung in ancient times:
The song of the battle on the plains of blood,
Where men stood, died and stood again;
The song of the long-armed and the silver king,
When the champion's cup was passed around;
The song of the Hound, the Hound from the North,
With chariots thundering in a cloud of dust.
These songs have I sung, yet more are to be.
The tale of Conn, thrice renowned;
Conn the Black, with heart pure as thistledown,
Son of Donan, son of Crom the Red,
A tale that grew in the telling,
Told by the bards that tasted the blood
Spraying like spittle from dying heroes.
From heart to hand the song takes its flight
And now it is my geas
To loose the music from my harp,
As the words come stumbling into trembling song,
Building a swell of saga - a tale to be told.



Slán

Silverwolf
http://gateway.batcave.net