The Dreamer of Dreams
Eric is born in the line of the king,
A pulchritude fairer than night,
Beauty of which the sweet cherubs would sing,
A stripling of dazzling delight.
And with a quick witted intellect too,
Mercury’s quickness he knows,
Sprightly on horses away in the blue,
Travelling long in the snows.
Eric a poet of magical skill,
Writing his visions and thoughts,
Using a feather, an eloquent quill,
Fine in the language he sports.
Then of an eve he is sitting to rest,
Lolling in sloth on the chaise,
Soon by the spirits of dreaming caressed,
Walking a fantasy maze.
Duly transported he fathoms a Queen,
Bright on a throne in the hills,
Matchless her beauty, in radiant sheen,
The prince struck in reverence thrills.
When he awakes he is galvanised through,
Wanting to meet the good Queen,
Conjuring all of his dream into view,
Namely, her person serene.
I wish to find her, I say, and I will!
For her reality’s plain!
Though it be madness, for better or ill,
I’ll hasten away in the rain.
Hurrying into the court of the king,
Bowing, the boy states his mind;
“I quit my princehood and race on the wing,
For a fair maiden to find.”
The king was irate and in anger did yell,
Fly away, boy, and be gone!
I banish ye ever, ye creature of hell,
I’ll not your face look upon!
Eric was resolute, chasing his dream,
Very well, sir, then I go!
Out to mountains, the soft babbling stream,
Racing the wind and the snow.
Four ghosts descending from out of the rocks,
Eric asleep on the ground,
“Beautiful comely, with silk for his locks!”
Crowding in interest around.
Setting his steed at a galloping pace,
Saddled with goods to the hilt,
Out to the mountains the duo did race,
Humming his love with a lilt.
Camped at a pass in the mountainous vale,
Stars spreading o’er in specks,
Eric delivered from out the wet dale,
Lay on the mossy green decks.
Oscar his owl in attendance did sit,
Keeping his master in view,
Sharp in his vision and sharp in his wit,
Hastily warning: hoo hoo!
Eric awakes and is jolted in fright,
Men of the past come as ghosts!
What is your story, this magical night?
Ye four fantastical hosts.
We are the knights of the valley each one,
Brave but forsaken to death,
Cursed to the shadows and fled from the sun,
Ghostly the flow of our breath!
Tell me, good comrades, I seek the high queen,
Does she reside in these hills?
Hast ye her majesty noticed or seen?
A beauty my poem distills…
“Bright as a fountain in afternoon flair,
Shining with jewels in her ravishing hair,
Hung with a dress knit by heaven’s own hand,
Everyone at her command.
Mighty in justice and holding a sword,
Regal and stately with everyone awed,
Standing in loveliness, purer than snow,
Eyes like the wild woodland doe.”
Yessir we know her, we know her indeed,
There is a palace nearby,
Up on the pass, where the wild lupin lead,
Brave silhouettes in the sky.
Thankyou, my fellows, I’ll make my egress,
Up to the mountain I ride,
All of my heart a compelling duress,
Hopeful and gleeful inside.
Fast as a leaf in irreverent air,
Fast as a fish in the stream,
Snorting and racing in leaps debonair
Chasing the Queen in the dream.
Galloping up to the summit he raced,
Oscar a dart in the sky,
All of the sprites of the aether outpaced,
Gaining the keep upon high.
Up to the draw bridge and sallying through,
Eric stepped into the court,
Róisín in radiance keen in his view,
Milady, I love you, in short!
Already I know thee, the maid of my dreams!
Seen in a vision before,
Oh how her majesty glowingly beams,
Eager, like gems on the shore!
Sir, I approve of your sweetness, I say,
Charming in boundless degree,
Please be my guest and pray relish your stay,
Safe in my mountain marquee.
E’en as I spy thee adorned in your cloak,
Speaking gay thoughts by thy tongue,
Rich as the foresty glade and the oak,
And e’en from far kingdoms flung.
I am desirous to make you my own,
Thee with such comeliness formed,
All the high hymns dost my bosom intone,
Here with your presence adorned!
Falling in love in the months by and by,
Knowing each other as kin,
Eric and Róisín in courting so spry,
Dizzying love in a spin.
Down through the everglades, chatting in cheer,
Walking in afternoon bliss,
Under a welkin resplendent and clear,
Sealed with a magical kiss.
Then such a wedding to honour the mood,
Feasting to limits of wealth,
Banquets with marvellous mountains of food,
Toasting to conjure good health.
Róisín espied from a vision in sleep,
Eric in faithfulness chased,
Perfect together they dwelt in the keep,
Perfect together embraced.
adamdaniel 