Swift as the arrow’s flight

Sir Wilhelm Skalla Grimm
fallen in Spring Crown Tourney, A.S. XLII

Swift as the arrow’s flight,
Far from the Northern light,
Here to display his might,
Comes Skalla Grimm to fight.

He of the shining pate,
Gives up his life to Fate.
Three Sisters wind the skein,
Is Skalla Grimm to reign?

Lightning strikes through the air,
Boar rises from his lair,
Fierce for his lady fair—
All here admire and stare.

Phoenix affronts him not,
Cats—large and small(!)—are fought,
Foes’ lives become his pawns,
Lord of the Myrmidons.

So many rounds he’s won,
Ravenscroft, Haraldsson,
Both to his arms succumb,
Four warriors make his sum.

Now he can see the Crown—
But Dietrich brings him down,
Once more he makes his stand,
His right takes Sven’s left hand.

Sir Wilhelm Skalla Grimm,
His sight perforce must dim,
Poet’s sword piercéd him
Over the high shield’s rim.

D’Vora Iador,
What maiden mourns him more?
He fought to be a King,
His honor now I sing.

Death plays a cunning game,
Yet cannot dim his name,
His deeds skalds yet proclaim,
O’er far seas flies his fame.

— Mistress Lavendar of Lorne

...received her Laurel for the Performing Arts (acting, singing, dancing, and theatrical productions). She has written fighter poems from the beginning and is grateful if their subjects are pleased with them.

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