Wihtgar's Lament by Alp Mortal from The Fanshawe Scroll
Fly high above the shore to soar in exaltation of St Catherine's virginity;
the lonely queen whom Wihtgar failed to win.
To brew dull autumn’s soil takes a song as light and wide and fast as Wihtgar’s sword.
Tell me if you dare to be somebody; the pirate beneath and the priest above plot vainly but all soft, sweet scattering beetles doth shine in their eyes.
Dawn’s hoary breath frosts the lenses.
Fate is silted up so step lightly to the cave.
Our spectral Queen from ague died but her ceaseless temper wrought from crystal chain is forever prized.
I lived in fragments of song, doing no wrong but paid in senses finer than silk and golden thread.
Still I died, and here and there trod,
leaving imprints of my mind.
the lonely queen whom Wihtgar failed to win.
To brew dull autumn’s soil takes a song as light and wide and fast as Wihtgar’s sword.
Tell me if you dare to be somebody; the pirate beneath and the priest above plot vainly but all soft, sweet scattering beetles doth shine in their eyes.
Dawn’s hoary breath frosts the lenses.
Fate is silted up so step lightly to the cave.
Our spectral Queen from ague died but her ceaseless temper wrought from crystal chain is forever prized.
I lived in fragments of song, doing no wrong but paid in senses finer than silk and golden thread.
Still I died, and here and there trod,
leaving imprints of my mind.
