Opening to epic lay as allegory on troubles in N. Ireland

[Skarp Hedin]

Trees whisper, whose roots entwine deep 1
In woods on the downs, pagan histories sleep,
Larks murmur through crisp spring air
On May’s month, one morn fair.
Nature wakens from slumberous repose, high 5
On hillock’s summit as daylight draws nigh.
Overlooking carven gorges below,
Mists swirl as the subtle breezes blow.
Spurring ancient haze from darkness rest
Twining, coiling in submission so as the day to bless. 10
Sunrays leak through rich thick mist,
Splitting trees’ leaves until the last wisp
Weaves and squirms to the sky deep blue,
Night has gone, the dawn now new.
As the moment passes a grumble begins, 15
Smokes smear from roofs, the lark sings.
Smells of coarse bread to pagans who arise
On full stomachs as was wise,
For ‘twas not long since to their chamber retreat
They who made mirth and feast did eat, 20
And long played pipes round dancing fire
Mingling with mist, kindling heart’s desire,
Songs hearty and merry to enchanting rhyme,
Stories of old from such time
Of heroic deeds and valour recalled 25
The storyteller who most enthralled
His company with hazy eyesight
To which moon and fire did unite
Pagan, fog, music mystifying.
All sat round till flames were dying 30
And rose to rest to rise again
With sunlight, fresh brisk wind and rain.
Thus they go about (to) their daily chore,
One for each pagan whom none did ignore.
Herding cattle, nurturing earth, 35
Harmonised with nature, land of their birth.

****

Drums in the deep, trees stir, the lark mute,
Horns not of welcome, more retribute,
Nearing with time, short distance away,
Crude language, barking, baying, disarray. 40
Ablaze the woods in orange swallowed,
The lark flees and by him followed
Black smog consuming the sky
Pouring from the hills up high.
From the thick emerge riders orange clad 45
And faces of dread the pagans had
As they looked upon their ruthless foe
Who tearing down to pillage below,
To innocent faces take they no heed,
Cleansing, reforming, purifying their need. 50
Peasants falling to the earth so swift
Whilst orange flames downhill start to drift
Engulfing earthly dwellings and temple spiritual,
Biting, hacking, burning as was ritual.
Till all but one of the pagans were slain, 55
On roof of smouldering temple cried she in pain.
From her lips came ultimate wail,
The opening prophecy of such tale
Of woe and dread, ‘The Cry of Foresight’
Coming to her from god’s might. 60
Eyes capturing she had of imperishable flame
That pierceth hearts of those to blame.
Thus she spake in such humble wrath
The first stone of treacherous path: 65

“Lo! Whilst thou pillage in merciless crusade,
Upon the tyrant’s sons a curse shall be laid
To speaketh of their doom until the great end,
Into meaningless solitude shall them send.
Such utter recurrence each generation hence 70
Wouldst be born into fate from your expense.
Thus the sons of the sons of the tyrant present,
Upon the ground of our ancestors resent
They, that thou be so foolish as to vanquish
A God-serving community who in our anguish, 75
Curse thee for thine ignorance,
How rash thou hast been.
Working stealthily till dusk of time,
The prophecy shall liveth unseen.”

[pseud]

What follows are my tastes.

I don't really go for Tennyson/Milton impressions, do you?

I see hints of Tolkien in here, among many other things (though, as you point out, he got it from past mythology too, maybe I should be pointing to Norse tales) -

Drums in the deep - Moria
Biting, hacking, burning - Treebeard/Fanghorn
etc., etc.,

This is certainly ambitious, more ambitious than anything I've ever attempted for sure, but I'm not sure a modern audience is ready for it, or rather if this is ready for a modern audience...one of the two. I mean, I think Joyce's Ulysses was amazing (I may not understand the whole thing, but I try), partly because it wasn't trying to be like older poets.

Part of it is the older language:

‘twas (19)
Whilst (52)
pierceth (62)
thou (77)

People really talked like that when Shakespeare lived and King James ordered a translation of the Bible. But they don't talk that way anymore. What really puzzles me is that you use the contemporary word sometimes, and not others. ie, "your" in line 71 could be "thy" (I think that's right...?)

And line 33, I have an idea for you:

Thus they go about (to) their daily chore,

Thus they go about on daily chores

I know this might seem like skimming the top, not delving into the substance. But I feel that no one would read this and have their mind changed by it because of how old it seems. If I want to be impressed with language usage like this, I'll just read Tennyson, Milton, Eliot, Shakespeare! or someone else in this vein.

As I say, all of this is my preference.

- Caleb

[calxaed]

I agree with pseud, you oviously have some talent at putting together a poem, so why waste it with pseudo-archaisms. If you have something to say and want to be heard outside of a minority audience look to more contemporary forms and english as it's used today.

[Jester]

Hi Skarp Hedin. I've toyed with using Old English (of a sort) in my poems in the past, and I understand how gripping it can be whilst (I use that word in everyday language, pseud) you are writing. But when readers are reading it (unless you have a real gift for it), the poem never seems to scan the same way. Ask a friend to read it to you aloud - you'll probably see what I mean. I'm afraid I couldn't "feel" the poem because I was concentrating too hard on trying to get my head around the way it was worded. I don't read very well anyway, so this could be my problem rather than yours. The more experienced guys will likely give more useful comments.
Sorry.
Mick

[Jester]

Sorry....just repeted the reply.....ooops.

[Skarp Hedin]

Indeed I can see where you are all coming from. However, I am not 100% certain of it getting published and there is a small enough audience for it to sell if it does. Bare in mind this is just the opening and I have just passed line 500 (nearly finished). As well as this, though, I have attempted a short poem on the fall of nature to materialism and possibly you would prefer that. As regards the lay, it is written with older english as it was set in the older times, not just modern day. It is not really aimed for the general public, just for people who can appreciate this type of petry to try and keep some of it still being written. Oh and the line about chore(s), it has to remain singular for rhyming purposes. Indeed I appreciate the criticism but try to read it as though it were not for the general public.
With trying to please the general public I have started a novel that is more easy reading yet holds important themes also. So it's not all about pleasing the public, you have to please yourself and the reader it's aimed at.
Hedin

[pseud]

It is not really aimed for the general public, just for people who can appreciate this type of petry to try and keep some of it still being written.

Fair enough. Thanks for posting it,

- Caleb