"Dragonbane (poem) Part 2" by James K. Bowers

Dragonbane

'Tis sung in minstrel's ballads in bittersweet refrains —
  Grim rime born of Fortune's jest — the Song of Dragonbane:
Once bathed in regal splendours, the castle stood in pride,
  But now just lay abandoned, all cares and hopes denied.
No monks pray in the chapel, no criers mark the hours.
  No merchants fill the market square, no archers man the towers.
Gone the lowly chambermaids, the deacons and the lords;
  Gone, too, the maids-in-waiting and knights with shining swords.
Away have fled the armigers, the stewards and the squires;
  The bailey stands unguarded, no pennants grace the spires.
The smithy's forge knows not flame; the wellsprings all are dry;
  No hearthfires fend December; no gardens greet July.
No torches brighten chambers, nor light forgotten halls;
  Winds moan their hollow dirges past cracked and tumbled walls.
The emptiness resounding screams sadness all the more,
  For the innocence of youth is now Misfortune's whore.
Deep within the mould'ring keep, 'midst the ruin and the dust,
  Rests the blade of blackest lore, now cloaked in sanguine rust.
Once proudly borne in battle, this sword did glory gain,
  Before men knew its secrets and named it Dragonbane.
Know this sword is more than steel, and wrought by more than fire.
  Know, too, this sword is heartless, with death its lone desire.
Its soul arose and wakened from hauteur and from spite,
  From magics gleaned from dragon's blood, from ice, and winter night.
A maiden's heart, a fallen tear, a warrior's iron nerves —
  Victims of the hell-forged blade to feed the curse it serves.
By this sword was Honor slain, then Faith and Gallantry;
  And struck dead in the carnage, lay golden Chivalry.
So fled bold knights and heroes, far from the frightful spawn,
  Seeking solace from the distance of elsewhen's brighter dawn.
Though dream some fools and reavers, of power, wealth, and fame,
  Not one dares venture northward, the blacksouled sword to claim,
For there within the castle walls, an old man struggles still
  To break the spell of evil, his destiny to fill.
Within the hall of feasting, now open to the sky,
  He stands in silent vigil, unmoved as time goes by.
He watches o'er the maiden, her lifeless form now bone,
  Beside the sword so dreadful, upon the timeworn stone.
Days pass by and so, too, nights, and seasons become years;
  He kneels, he whispers gently, and sheds his somber tears.
His breath is short and labored, his sinews stiff and weak;
  His bones are old and brittle, mere memories of his peak.
Against the Curse alone he stands, beneath grey-shrouded skies,
  And wields his sword of promise, of hope, and summer sighs.
His armor is his courage, his shield his heart of glass,
  Yet though he battles bravely, he cannot change his past.
Some say on lonely winter nights, when all is cold and clear,
  The warrior, old and feeble, sobs prayers through sorrow's tears,
And when perchance he listens, he hears a dragon's roar —
  From long ago it echoes to touch his heart once more.
It brings him grief and sorrow, and heralds fitful sleep,
  With dreams of errant ventures and of this woeful keep:
He finds himself much younger, much stronger, yet unwise,
  And cannot end the nightmare, no matter how he tries.
He dreams of knighthood questing, and vanquishing a foe.
  He dreams of knighthood dying that night so long ago.
In slumber's dark embracing, he journeys back those years
  To fight again the dragon, to shed again his tears.
He feels his sword strike cleanly; he hears her dying breath;
  He sees the truth now clearly: 'twas he who welcomed death.
He holds again the maiden, and brushes back her hair,
  Again he begs the angels her life to somehow spare.
Then from the dream he wakens, and stares across the room;
  There he sees no miracle to free him from this doom.
Within her cave of crystal, her lair of evergleams,
  Nevermore will dragon sleep — his sundered spirit screams:
"Weep not, O fair young maidens, shed not your tears in vain.
  Pity not this tortured soul who wielded Dragonbane..."

                                                - James Kevin Bowers