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The Song of Elen Waiting
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The tree by my door
I've watched turn before
And I've watched as it's branched out and grown;
When it turns next year,
Will I still be here,
And will I be here alone?
When my love was there,
Birds sang in the air,
And they soared like the dreams that we had;
Now he's off to war,
They sing like before,
But all of their songs are sad.
My good friends, I know,
Will marry and go,
And farewell with a kiss and a tear,
With lovers to tell,
And children as well,
While I wait another year.
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Their futures are bright,
They sing day and night,
And I'm happy to think them so glad...
The birds that I see
Still sing back to me,
But all of their songs are sad.
Will someone who knows
Where all the time goes
Come and lead me away by the hand,
I know day by day
I'm fading away;
It's more than my heart can stand.
It's not that he knew
More than any men do,
But he knew all my heart ever had;
The birds watch and hear
And wait every year,
But all of their songs are sad.
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Patrig's Love
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No one can love -
Quite like my love -
Because her love -
Is all I love -
And in her love -
I find my love -
And then her love -
Is just like love -
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Song of the Nine Heroes
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From the north came danger, as we knew it would:
In the vanguard of winter, a dragon's dance
Unraveled the land, until out of the forest,
Out of the plains they came, from the mothering earth,
The sky unreckoned before them.
Nine they were, under the three moons,
Under the autumn twilight:
As the world declined, they arose
Into the heart of the story.
One from a garden of stone arising,
From dwarf-halls, from weather and wisdom,
Where the heart and mind ride unquestioned
In the untapped vein of the hand.
In his fathering arms, the spirit gathered.
Nine they were, under the three moons,
Under the autumn twilight:
As the world declined, they arose
Into the heart of the story.
One from a haven of breezes descending,
Light in the handling air,
To the waving meadows, the kender's country,
Where the grain out of smallness arises itself
To grow green and golden and green again.
Nine they were, under the three moons,
Under the autumn twilight:
As the world declined, they arose
Into the heart of the story.
The next from the plains, the long land's keeping,
Nurtured in distance, horizons of nothing.
Bearing a blue crystal staff she came, and a burden
Of mercy and light converged in her hand:
Bearing the wounds of the world, she came.
Nine they were, under the three moons,
Under the autumn twilight:
As the world declined, they arose
Into the heart of the story.
The next from the plains, in the moon's shadow,
Through custom, through ritual, trailing the moon
Where her phases, her wax and her wane, controlled
The tide of his blood, and his warrior's hand
Ascended through hierarchies of space into light.
Nine they were, under the three moons,
Under the autumn twilight:
As the world declined, they arose
Into the heart of the story.
One within absences, known by departures,
The dark swordswoman at the heart of the fire:
Her glories the space between words,
The cradlesong recollected in age,
Recalled at the edge of awakening and thought.
Nine they were, under the three moons,
Under the autumn twilight:
As the world declined, they arose
Into the heart of the story.
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One in the heart of honor, formed by the sword,
By the centuries' flight of the kingfisher over the land,
By Solamnia ruined and risen, rising again
When the heart ascends into duty.
As it dances, the sword is forever an heirloom.
Nine they were, under the three moons,
Under the autumn twilight:
As the world declined, they arose
Into the heart of the story.
The next in a simple light a brother to darkness,
Letting the sword hand try all subleties,
Even the intricate webs of the heart. His thoughts
Are pools disrupted in changing wind-
He cannot see their bottom.
Nine they were, under the three moons,
Under the autumn twilight:
As the world declined, they arose
Into the heart of the story.
The next the leader, half-elven, betrayed
As the twining blood pulls asunder the land,
The forests, the worlds of elves and men.
Called into bravery, but fearing for love,
And fearing that, called into both, he does nothing.
Nine they were, under the three moons,
Under the autumn twilight:
As the world declined, they arose
Into the heart of the story.
The last from darkness, breathing the night
Where the abstract stars hide a nest of words,
Where the body endures the wound of numbers,
Surrendered to knowledge, until, unable to bless,
His blessing falls on the low, the benighted.
Nine they were, under the three moons,
Under the autumn twilight:
As the world declined, they arose
Into the heart of the story.
Joined by others they were in the telling:
A graceless girl, graced beyond the graces;
A princess of seeds and saplings, called to the forest;
An ancient weaver of accidents;
Nor can we say who the story will gather.
Nine they were, under the three moons,
Under the autumn twilight:
As the world declined, they arose
Into the heart of the story.
From the north came danger, as we knew it would:
In encampments of winter, the dragon''s sleep
Has settled the land, but out of the forest,
Out of the plains they come, from the mothering earth
Defining the sky before them.
Nine they were, under the three moons,
Under the autumn twilight:
As the world declined, they arose
Into the heart of the story.
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Huma's Canto
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Thus Huma, Knight of Solamnia,
Lightbringer, First Lancer,
Followed his light to the foot of the Khalkist Mountains,
To the stone feet of the gods,
To the crouched silence of their temple.
He called down the Lancemakers, he took on
Their unspeakable power to crush the unspeakable evil,
To thrust the coiling darkness
Back down the tunnel of the dragon's throat.
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Priestess Song
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The red sun has risen.
The blue doors have opened.
I kneel here before you,
To sing you my song.
You who have left us,
We ask you for your blessing.
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Kender
Trailsong
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Your one true love's a sailing ship
That anchors at our pier.
We lift her sails, we man her decks,
We scrub the portholes clear;
And yes, our lighthouse shines for her,
And yes, our shores are warm;
We steer her into harbor-
Any port in a storm.
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The sailors stand upon the docks,
The sailors stand in line,
As thirsty as a dwarf for gold
Or centaurs for cheap wine.
For all the sailors love her,
And flock to where she's moored,
Each man hoping that he might
Go down, all hands on board.
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Knight Breca's
Song
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Oh where the north wall is crumbling,
Let us put mortar and brick,
Let us stack limestone on limestone
Laid down with a promise and lick,
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And wherever limestone will fail us
And mortar and brick give way,
Let us stack footman on footman
Laid down with the promise of pay.
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Solamnic Death Chant
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Return this man to Huma's breast:
Let him be lost in sunlight,
In the chorus of air where breath is translated;
At the sky's border receive him.
Beyond the wild, impartial skies
Have you set your lodgings,
In cantonments of stars, where the sword aspires
In an arc of yearning, where we join in singing.
Grant to him a warrior's rest.
Above our singing, above song itself,
May the ages of peace converge in a day,
May he dwell in the heart of Paladine.
And set the last spark of his eyes
In a fixed and holy place
Above words and the borrowed land too loved
As we recount the ages.
Free from the smothering clouds of war
As he once rose in infancy,
The long world possible and bright before him,
Lord Huma, deliver him.
Upon the torches of stars
was mapped the immaculate glory of childhood;
From that wronged and nestling country,
Lord Huma, deliver him.
Let the last surge of his breath
Perpetuate wine, the attar of flowers;
From the vanguard of love, the last to surrender,
Lord Huma, deliver him.
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Take refuge in the cradling air
From the heart of the sword descending,
From the weight of battle on battle;
Lord Huma, deliver him.
Above the dreams of ravens where
His dreams first tried a rest beyond changing,
From the yearning for war and the war''s ending,
Lord Huma, deliver him.
Only the hawk remembers death
In a late country; from the dusk,
From the fade of the senses, we are thankful that you,
Lord Huma, deliver him.
Then let his shade to Huma rise
Out of the body of death, of the husk unraveling;
From the lodging of mind upon nothing, we are thankful that you,
Lord Huma, deliver him.
Beyond the wild, impartial skies
Have you set your lodgings,
In cantonments of stars, where the sword aspires
In an arc of yearning, where we join in singing.
Return this man to Huma's breast
Beyond the wild, impartial skies;
Grant to him a warrior's rest
And set the last spark of his eyes
Free from the smothering clouds of wars
Upon the torches of the stars.
Let the last surge of his breath
Take refuge in the cradling air
Above the dreams of ravens where
Only the hawk remembers death.
Then let his shade to Huma rise
Beyond the wild, impartial skies.
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