No saga dire

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Sir Edward Senestre
fallen in Spring Crown Tourney, A.S. XLI

(sonnet)

No saga dire, no lengthy wordy tale,
No Beowulf, no endless Edda-song.
Senestre, sporting black and green per pale
From mountain top to desert journeyed long
With sword girt on and Mora’s favor bright,
A man on whom awards have been conferred
His wisdom tinged with age and humor light.
He carved a path as Death each time deferred,
Past Freiburg and Aegina, forth he went,
Sir Tearlach, then Sir Korwyn both did fall;
Then three more of his kin their lives were spent
Until one knight remained – the final call.
Sir Drogo hailed as Al Caid was he
And Edward now King’s Champion will be.

— Duchess Natalya de Foix
...was at one time a 15th century noblewoman who was born in Spain and moved to France, but now she suspects she is probably a wealthy traveler who spends most of her time in China.

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