Légendes Arthuriennes et autres

Légendes Arthuriennes et autres

King' arthur ballad

Back in a time when Britain lived in fear,
When Saxons invaded the lands,
There arose a man so great,
He alone would against them stand

Born of the blood of Uther Pendragon,
And born from the womb of Igraine,
He came to the world as just a young babe.
No one expected him to reign.

But one day, it was raining hard,
And young Arthur was on his way home,
He was passing the churchyard when he saw
A sword dug deep in the stone.

Even in the evenings gray,
The sword did shine so bright
And on the hilt, Merlin had engraved,
That he would be king and knight.

Arthur became loved by all,
As the best king Britain ever had.
Skilled with a sword, and deadly with a bow,
He would help the good and punish the bad.

So from Camelot he began his rule,
With twelve great battles won.
He kicked out the last of the bloody Saxons,
Before his Quest for the Grail had begun.

But while Arthur was away,
Searching for the grail with his Knights,
His evil step son Mordred came,
And found kingship in his sights.

And so in Arthur's absence,
Mordred stole his Queen and land,
So that when King Arthur returned,
A battle was surely at hand.

It was a cold November evening,
When the battle of Camlann took place,
The sun was setting behind the hills,
And the grass was golden with grace.

Arthur sat atop his stallion,
And riled up his all his men,
He knew that death was upon him,
But that Britain could rise again.

The weathered warrior unsheathed his sword,  
And from his horse he yelled,
"Come now let us ride forth,
And our legend will be upheld!"

He turned and faced his enemies,
With a brave and confident stare,
He could see his hated Mordred,
Sitting atop his mare.

The battle begun and the knights charged,
Yelling battle cries,
"In the name of all that is holy,
Your injustice will be your demise!"

Arthur killed many foes that night,
With his style and his grace,
But all he really wanted to see,
Was Mordred's bloody face.

When they met on the battlefield,
The fight was almost done
But  our hero was not finished,
No, he had only just begun.

He took up his sword valiantly,
And he fought with pride,
But age had caught up with old Arthur,
And Mordred stabbed him in the side.

His death would have to wait though,
For Arthur was not dead,
He gathered his second strength,
And cut off Mordred's head.

Now the battle was finished,
And Arthur looked around,
All of his dear knights, his friends,
Were lying on the ground.

Sir Bedivere was all that was left,
And he rushed to his King's side.
"Oh my dear king Arthur!" he said,
As he then began to cry.

Bedivere took him to a tent,
That lay beside the lake,
And there came a woman,
While Arthur was barely awake.

This lady was Arthur's sister,
She was called Morgan le Fay,
"Now", she said, "has come the time.
I must take him away."

So Arthur was carried to a boat,
And to Avalon he would proceed
For he will return again,
When his country is in need.

-Lauren Garbutt

0 Poster un commentaire
Ces blogs de Littérature & Poésie pourraient vous intéresser

Inscrivez-vous au blog

Soyez prévenu par email des prochaines mises à jour

Rejoignez les 8 autres membres