literature

Epic poem

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Twilight of the Thanes.


Hwat!
        Hear, O herald, honest England's Muse,
a tale of fear and fight; of flight and force,
a blood-bathed battle Britain mustn't lose,
King Godwinson's stand  'gainst the mighty Norse

Kin of dooméd kings, hark kindly to the tale,
For none, not Norse nor Angle did long outlast,
the crimson carnage and the fletcher's hail,
Once Wotan's warlike, ashen spear was cast.

For terrible triumph from terrible wrath
gave carrion ravens a rare, rank feast,
Having beaten the Northmen from the North,
Harold would face the Northmen of the East.

But on, to our tale, towards battle we haste,
Hoary Albion's host, holding 'gainst the Danes,
And on, 'til battle-born Bastard they faced,
and heralded the twilight of the Thanes.

Down we veer, like vital Yggdrasil's roots,
through cloud and cover and clear azure sky,
to focus on fair Harold of fierce repute,
and where the warlike host of Britons lie.

Commanding cohort, comrades at arms,
Beneath the banner of the battle king,
The fyrdmen, come from far flung farms,
Set sword to shield and let their tattoo ring.

And to their hall-lord they look for orders,
He who gifts of gold and garlands bestows,
And marches to meet within his borders,
The frightening levies of an age old foe.

His spear he hefts now, in Harold's hand it sits,
a battle-branch bill, borne by England's King,
in mailed hand made proud, mightily it fits,
awaiting slaughter, straining now to sing.

He flicks fearsome eyes 'cross his loyal force,
their faces are wan, warlike visages,
He holds himself upon his pale horse,
and readies his gold-receivers before the bridge.

His booming voice calls blessing 'pon his soldiers,
for now the Shepherd seeks the Son of Bor.
Angus Dei and the All-father shoulder
their swords as their followers march to war.

The Lord of Hosts stretches forth his great hand,
for in power the Protector cannot compare,
and He empowers the English war band
for they now catch the Norsemen unaware.

The God of Runes rails 'gainst the coming tide,
But hangs helpless from his hard, high tree,
On the branch he bartered and watched his men die,
For God gave England to the free.

Onward charged Harold, over the river,
His cohorts carrying the cry behind,
and forth they flooded for their ring-giver.
Before their wrath One-Eye found himself blind.

Through the foe they swept like sickle through harvest,
their hauberks hardened with hot, flowing blood,
sword arms strengthened, power flowing to the wrist,
the shoots of Norway scythed in the bud.

Yet the bridge held firm, O belligerent Norse,
a giant swinging his supreme great-axe,
Guarding his ground, though the battle's run its course,
laying about with long haft in swift attacks.

The great, fierce giant groaned, caught unawares,
for a spearman sneaked beneath his stronghold,
and making the river's white waters his new lair,
struck upwards twixt his legs; a death knell tolled.

So forward flowed the fury of the English,
until the grassy river banks bled red,
and as was grim faced Harold's fervent wish,
the Norwegian kings lay still, shamed and dead.

O, but there's no rest nor peace to savour,
for though one foe lies forlorn and broken,
another draws close, they cannot waver,
and must head south ere the last rites are spoken.

A grim and grisly ride over rough ground,
the whole of England did the host traverse,
from cracked lips and coarse throats came not a sound,
with death awaiting them like a witch's curse.

To Hastings did they hove at long last,
and saw the mighty sails of Norman ships,
shield shouldered, axe gripped, brothers standing fast,
conjoined by love of their lord, hip to hip.

And then the ranks of the Normans did they see,
a host of Knights on giant stallions sat,
demons, flame breathing steeds of Normandy
prancing in morning light, listing for combat.

A shield wall again did the Saxons assume,
with valiant Harold taking the van,
and knowing that his people would die soon
he prayed hard for the success of his plan.

But unlike the battle against the Norsemen,
the Lord saw two of His servants at war,
and stretched forth no steadying hand for when
the Saxons sought the saviour to implore.

from far away left to the distant right,
the endless Norman lines themselves did array,
and set their sharp lances for sonorous fight,
and readied their spirits to rule that day.

O, see the sublimity of the charge,
the sword and sinew now acting as one,
O hear the voice of the heavens write large,
as titanic, heroic horses run.

Now feel the impact of their deathly strike,
the force and steel impressing upon flesh,
the clash the carls had never felt the like,
like grain in the grinder were the men threshed.

but firm they held, fyrdman of the land,
and back fled the foiled foe from stout spears,
and seeing that they had the upper hand,
the Thanes threw down their innermost fears.

O, impetuous and foolish ingrates,
do you not see the retreat is deceit?
Yet you fling your life and land to the fates,
from firm wall and fine order you find defeat.

On they charged, to drive the foe to the sea,
at fleeing back they ran towards,
but back on the bare hill Harold could see
the perilous plight of loyal wards.

no cry nor alarum did they now heed,
for blood and battle now filled their brave hearts,
not one foot of fertile ground would they cede,
and merrily did the men play their part.

Yet Knights did not in ignominy flee,
for when the distance was great they whirled around,
and set their lances with lascivious glee,
and turned to staining red the battleground.

O you courageous and chivalrous Carls,
you now are broken and battle alone,
and now you die, with dismayed snarl,
and bleak ravens alone will tend your bones.

And King Harold, the last of the Saxons,
stands high on his lonely, despairing hill
with no men, nor thanes, no god to call upon
waiting for the foe to close for the kill.

And in the sky, soaring like onyx crows
comes a vicious volley of feathered arrows
released from stout, demonic French bows
come to send him to his ancestral barrow

And Harold looked up to the sky anon
to see the silent shadow of his death
and he thought of all the glory forgone
as he pulled his penultimate breath

and he stood as liquid death fell from the sky
like Samael, on fear blackened wings
and a Norman arrow soon pierced his eye.
So fell Harold, England's last Saxon king.

But tragedy did tear much, much further,
for that blood soaked battle on Hastings plane
did invest as King that vile Norman cur,
and end the era of Britain's thanes.

Hearth-lords lie dead near great Dover's cliffs.
Ring-givers demise, spear leader's darkness.
Gold-king's burial in laden river-skiff,
Lovers cry as they take a last caress

Halls are empty, hearths are cold, dark are the days,
beds unused, swords go blunt, cold are the nights
the time of the Thanes has seen its last sun's  rays
and the Saxons now enter their twilight

A proud people destroyed by fire and sword,
a people with no hope nor, now, any fear
who have now buried their last true-born lord
and are resigned to disappear

But in the stillness of the Saxon tomb
where the resplendent thanes now lie dead
the departed cannot decry the doom
to which they were brought, for
                        Wyrd biþ ful aræd.*

---
*Note: “Wyrd biþ ful aræd” (pron: wiurd bith full ar-ED) is an Old English phrase; it translates as 'fate is inexorable'.
An entry for =PoetryPlease's Epic Poetry contest. Certainly the longest poem I've ever written. I usually knock them out in ten minutes. This took something like 10 solid hours, which is seriously draining. I've never concentrated that hard on a poem before. :) It needs a lot of editing, because the metre is way off in some places and the imagery is just shite in others.

For those who don't know the story, it's the tale of the last month of Harold Godwinson's life. He was king of England in the 11th century, and had to fight hard to keep his crown. He defeated the Norwegian Harald Hardrada in a battle in the North of England, but had to run south to fight the Normans at Hastings. He lost the second and, famously, died with an arrow in his eye. The Battle of Hastings obliterated the Anglo-Saxon aristocracy and consigned an entire culture to history.

Both William the Conqueror and Harald Hardrada have epics devoted to them (the Carmen de Hastingae Proelio and the Saga of Harold Hardrada respectively). I thought I'd take the opportunity to even things out a bit.

I'll be editing it in due course, but thought I'd throw it out there for the time being.
© 2009 - 2024 Nicephorus
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rlkirkland's avatar
Twilight of the Thanes by ~Nicephorus
{Critique provided by ~rlkirkland}

· Critique Notation, 4/2, 9/4, 22/2 and the like, reflect Stanza/Line(s).
· Suggestions follow the stanza/line notations in parentheses: (thusly).


The author makes significant effort to stay “in character” of a set historical era using much period detail and language. This adds a great sense of authenticity to the work.
The imagery and scope are suitable for its classification as an “Epic Poem”.


Things that detract from garnering a satisfying understanding the work, and/or tend to confuse the reader (as this critic sees it), are as follows:

Characters and/or places are introduced without a sufficient point of reference or character development to enhance the tale:

2/4 Wotan
3/3 Northmen from the North
4/2 Hoary Albion with “Danes”
4/3 The “battle-born Bastard”
5/1 Yggdrasil
10/2 Son of Bor
10/3 Angus Dei and the All-father
12/1 The God of Runes
13/4 One-Eye
36/2 Samael
37/3 Norman cur (as new king)


Capitalization and punctuation are very random throughout. I could sense no fixed pattern of usage to answer for this, so my notations and suggestions are going to be based on normal rules of grammar (as I, somewhat inadequately, comprehend them).

1/1 Herald (a title or office)
3/2 …feast. (period)
4/1 But on to our tale, (comma deleted “on, to”;) ...haste. (period)
12/2 …tree. (period)
13/4 …wrath, (comma)
14/1 …swept, (comma)
14/2 …with hot flowing blood, (comma deleted “hot, flowing”;)
15/2 …great-axe. (period)
19/2 …traverse. (period)
19/3 From… (new sentence)
20/2 …ships. (period)
20/3 Shield… (new sentence)
21/3 Normandy, (comma)
22/3 soon, (comma)
23/1 But, (comma)
24/1 From… (new sentence) …left, (comma)
25/2 …one. (period)
27/1 But… (new sentence)
30/1 No… (new sentence)
30/2 …hearts. (period)
30/3 Not… (new sentence)
31/2 …great, they… (comma added) – (delete comma after “around”;)
34/4 …barrow. (period)
35/4 breath. (period)
39/2 nights. (period)
39/3 The… (new sentence)
39/4 …twilight. (period)
40/2 …fear. (period)
40/3 Who… (new sentence)
40/4 …disappear. (period)

Capitol letters should not be used on the following lines as the previous line ends with a comma: 2/2, 2/4, 4/3, 6/2, 6/3, 6/4, 7/2, 7/3, 7/4, 9/3, 12/3, 12/4, 13/2, 38/4.


Excessive use of “and” (delete; alternatives may be offered)
4/4 (replace with thus?)
5/4 (delete and)
21/1 (delete and)
22/3 (delete and)
24/2-3 (delete a comma & and) to read; “…did array to set their sharp lances…”
27/2 (replace with “for”?)
31/3 (replace with “to”?)
32/3 (replace with “for”?)
33/1 (replace with “Lo”?)
34/1 (delete, start with “In”;)
35/1 (delete and)
36/1 (replace with There?)



Miscellany and Suggestions for alternate wording or phrasing to enhance clarity or readability:

1/2 “My tale” in lieu of “A tale”?
14/4 Mixed metaphor; scythed shoots and stalks are OK, however “buds” are not scythed. (“scythed at their root” perhaps?)
16/4 Knell & Toll are synonyms (likened to the ringing bell is ringing).
18/1 Oh or but (but not both)
18/3 “looms ahead” in lieu of “draws close” (which implies their being at hand).
21/1 “Then the ranks of Normans did they see” – perhaps? (“and” & “the” removed)
23/3 …hand when (delete “for”;)
23/4 …their Savior?
24/2 “…Norman lines did array” (delete “themselves”;)
25/1 “subtlety” in lieu of “sublimity”?
25/3 Writ or Wrote in lieu of “write”
26/1 “deadly” in lieu of “deathly”?
26/2 “Its” in lieu of “the”?
26/3-4 Too many “the” - also, one line ends and the next begins with “like”.
Perhaps; “a clash the Carls had never felt the like, as grain…”
28/1 “ingrates” seems too harsh a word for loyal comrades merely deceived. (called “loyal wards” in 29/4) “foolish kinsmen” or the like perhaps?
29/1 This line seems awkwardly worded. “hastening after fleeing backs” perhaps?
29/3 “for back” in lieu of “but back” may read better in context of Harold’s ongoing observations.
34/2 “hails” a vicious volley…” in lieu of “comes” in light of “come” at 34/4.
35/4 “drew” in lieu of “;pulled” might read better contextually.
37/2 “;plain” – (spelling)
38/3-4 Use a period after “river-skiff.” -or- a lower case “l” in “Lover”
39/1 “Halls empty, hearths cold,” (a preference really)
41/1 (delete “But” begin with “In” perhaps?)