The Bee of Kiev in the Field of Glory

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Written by Lady Briana MacCabe for Sir Ilia Aleksandrovich, a praise poem for Spring Crown Tourney and Privy Council 2014

On the banks of the Dneiper,

In the land of the Rus,

A magnificent beehive stood.

Ruled by a glorious queen

And her warrior bee.

The hive was sweet and golden and good.

News came to the golden hive

Of a wondrous sight,

A field brimming with flower and fruit.

A prize ripe for the taking

In a land called Caid.

So the warrior Ilia flew off in pursuit.

Oh, what a beautiful sight

Appeared before his eyes,

These fragrant fields of glory!

But the fields were defended

By most chivalrous bees

And now we get to the heart of our story.

Defended by the fierce Gunther,

First, a field of wildflowers from Italy,

All colored in red and gold.

Our warrior Ilia buzzed in,

Exchanged fearsome blows

And defeated the Orkney bold.

To the north Ilia then flew,

Towards an Irish garden

Full of knot work and delight.

There he met silvery Niccolo.

They fought, sting to sting

And Ilia defeated the warrior bright.

Our warrior then turned to the east,

Where forget-me-knots

From the Holy Island bloom.

There the mighty Jamal soared and stooped

But Ilia evaded his eagle-ways

And so defeated this Saracen doom.

From the west drifted the scent of Persia,

Of dates and pomegranates,

A garden of plenty did our bee find.

A garden defend by Thorin of the red and green,

Fierce gleam of fight in his eye.

And our Ilia first felt defeat's sting unkind.

After a stop in the field of Bye,

Ilia rose refreshed

And saw the day almost won.

The field of glory, once so large,

Was now down to three;

Two more fights and his quest would be done.

Alas, to the south, a golden orchard lay,

A doom defended by the mighty Kjartan,

Trusty drinking horn by his side.

A great clash did Ilia and Kjartan make,

Cries of "Hail, Chivalry" rose from the field

When Ilia, noble warrior, took a great blow and died.

On the banks of the Dneiper,

In the land of the Rus,

A saddened beehive weeps.

Their heart-broken Queen

Lays silent and still

Where the sweet, golden warrior sleeps.