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The Notorious Booke of Starres
Prologue
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Here, where the wicked gold of sunrise bribes
The wanton night away, and so inscribes
A pen-point fixative for wayward stars
And where, unprophesied, from heaven's cars,
Three moons bless pregnant vessels as they ride,
Sails swollen, laboring on the triple tide,
And where the lonely watchman darkly sees
Comets and planets and catastrophes,
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Let my small book bring peace from troubled skies:
Tides high for travel, light for planting time,
For lovers, moonlight, and for harvest, rime
But not too soon. Grant that my star-blind eyes
See nothing in the night but friendly fires,
And help the sky fix fast our own desires.
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The Tragedy of Sturm Epilogue
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Now he is gone where even courage yields
To time, where arms and armaments and shields,
Swords, banners, lances, fame, and heraldry
Drop in surrender to eternity;
Yet he went forward armed in such a grace
As fortifies the soul, and with the mace
Of modesty, broke time's intemperate knife:
He cannot die whose honor was his life.
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The Harvest of Holiness
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Sing a song for all the dead,
Songless now, their work debris,
Unrecited and unsaid,
Choked by pain and piety.
They are gone, but those who stay
Stand accused of faithless crimes:
Kneel off-balance here, and pray
To dubious gods in doubtful times.
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From the
Chronicles of Nathal, 31SC
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With the passing of the heroes, the incursion
of Chaos, and the coming of the great dragons, Ansalon has been
irrevocably changed. And yet, at a basic level, most people continued
to live as they had always lived. There were lives to rebuild,
crops to harvest, meals to cook, and children to raise. As time
passed, people began to forget the past or to reshape it in their
memories into more pleasing and suitable shapes.
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Boojum
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I know of the boojum, boojum, monster of
the glade.
It swings a club made of a tree, and is silent of its raid.
It has a treasure ages old laid up within its cave,
And it laughs a great and rumbly laugh as it guides you
to your grave... ulp!
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The Book of Love
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Act
1, Scene 1:
A Road to Solanestri
Sharmaen: If I by praying could but raise his eyes
High as his scholar's face has raised by heart,
Then would I give as much to absent gods
As my most present love endows to me.
Amandor (reading): "Granite and basalt, flint, chalcedony -
"
Hard reading this. Gods, take this adamant
To other scholars; grant me something soft
And palpable.
(He looks up and sees Sharmaen)
Most thoughtful, prescient gods!
You grant all I may wish, and proffer more.
Act 1, Scene 2:
A Conference on Shadows
Old Staffling: Don't laugh at me, young cream-faced fools. I've
fought a dragon with this stick, and jammed the screaming gears
of gnomes' machines, and stood as tall as any Solamnian Knight
on the fields of war. When I smile, you should scream. When I
blink, you should look for danger.
Act 2, Scene 1:
The Village of Xak Faoleen
Love is a book, and every single page
And line and metaphor and simile
Means less and less, unless you read in me
And read me more and more. And so engage
In reading romance, promises and sighs:
I read them raptly in your reading eyes.
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Act 2, Scene 2:
A Road at Night
Sharmaen: I fear my father's thunder.
Amandor: Gentle sweet,
his love is tropical, his anger chill,
Such men mix hot and cold, their troubled air
Will cloud and draw their lightning. Fear them not,
Saving your terror for the icy men
Loveless, unsummered with a wintry heart
Act 3:
A Stage, in Xak Faoleen
Sharmaen: Crisis pursues, and crisis we pursue
Mid-scene in madness, endings overdue.
Epilogue:
A Road out of Xak Faoleen
Sharmaen: If peace has triumphed by my plans,
The fault is woman's and man's,
Since once the wars of hearts begin,
True wars must lose, and love must win.
Come, give your hands now. Let us all agree:
Books are but letters; love is alchemy.
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