The Song of Morgaine

The Song of Morgaine.

I sang of dreams, and dreams there were,
Bright and fair and bold,
Of rivers I sang, and rivers there were,
Deep and swift and old.
I sang of heroes, and heroes there were,
Arthur, Merlyn, fair Guinevere,
Of witches and faery, spells and magic I sang,
And I, Morgaine, watched without fear.
Of Gawain and Bedivere and Cei I sang,
All the knights noble and fair,
I sang of the famous Questing Beast,
Hunted without a care,
Of the Round Table I sang,
And of wise Nimue, chivalrous Lancelot,
And of Arthur’s mistake, doomed Mordred,
And of the fate of fair Camelot.
I sang of Arthur’s folly,
In having the children killed,
And of Merlyn’s tired eyes, seeing sadness to come,
For Arthur’s folly was as he’d willed.
And I sang a lament for Guinevere,
And for Lancelot, both destroyed by love,
And I wept for Arthur’s lonely death,
Watched by the uncaring sky far above.
Of Excalibur and my sisters I sang,
And of the barge of holy Avalon,
And of myself, Arthur’s sister, Morgaine the Wise,
And the Golden Age now gone.
As my voice grew tired and sad I sang,
Of the battle of Camlann, and of Arthur’s fall,
Peak of mistakes only humans can make,
A history of misjudgment and betrayal.
And now, of Albion I sing,
As I remember the Golden Age gone,
I’ll sing of the Second Coming,
And hope that this time, Arthur will not go wrong.