Qasidah

Sir Jamal Damien Marcus
fallen in Fall Crown Tourney A.S. XLIII

Qasidah

My brother has been lost to Fate.
The sand and sun dry tears too fast
But gentle mists cannot abate
The ocean flowing from my heart.
To seek a place to rule in state
He left our father’s rule and care,
With Eowyn, his loving mate.
His coastal hills, all steeped in pines
Like stairs that climb to heaven’s gate
Had felt the tread of crescent hooves
(Or were they moons of silver plate?)
As other seekers rode to him.

To win Caid as his estate
Oft had my brother journeyed far.
Contenders for the caliphate
Attended by the very stars
Now camped outside my brother’s gate
And clothed a plain in ocean’s hues.
Their fights set hearts to palpitate:
He slew a lion, took the bye,
But oaken star made eagle bate.
His lady’s golden dragons flew;
Routing Death, who lay in wait
To claim his due of fighters bold.

The last to stand among the great,
My brother seemed to be the one;
Felling towers strong and straight,
Sending them to oaken leaves.
His shield, low pressed to suffocate
The roaring flames of Lindisfarne
Had moved too fast to block a spate
Of slowly wielded blackened claws.

— Lady Bronwyn ferch Gwalchlas

... a 7th c. Cymraeg (Welsh woman), who hopes this was worth the wait!

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