THLord Gunther of Orkney ~ Will's poem

THLord Gunther of Orkney

fallen in Spring Crown Tourney, A.S. XLIX

(rondeau prime)

A heart of flame alights in fierce display

Uncanny mirror of the desert sun

That seeks the hour when will and deed are one

And dolphins dip their heads in chief array.

The shade of bold Aquila swiftly plays

Across the spread of fortunes that become

A heart of flame.

Though bending stream and oak your flight constrain

And severed pinions tell of hopes undone

From passion's end shall newborn passions run;

No wounds nor tempered twilight long can stay

A heart of flame.

-- Lord Will Schuyler the Younger

.. is a 15th century Englishman of uncertain destination: apprenticed to the wit of arithmetic, he still at times endeavors to court the muse.

Spring Crown Tourney'15

Will's fighter poem: Rudolph Fekter

THLord Rudolf Fekter
fallen in Fall Crown Tourney, A.S. XLIV

(virelai - Smith’s Song)

Heart of the furnace give weight to my hand
Glowing before me the shape I command
Fashion a fate from the bones of the land
Gage for the dolphin’s crown.

Stand fast fortune is bountiful
Strike sure victory’s sting
Heart’s oath honor in flowering
Hand’s craft raises a king

Breeze on the battlefield lifts me to wing
Clothed in the fruit of the favor she brings
Gifts of the Lady whose grace I will sing
She of my soul’s remand.

Heart of the furnace give weight to my hand
Glowing before me the shape I command
Fashion a fate from the bones of the land
Gage for the dolphin’s crown.

Cold bite blades overpowering
Blows fall darkens the field
Head bowed grace at the boundary
Knee bent bested I yield

Quenched my ambition, my anguishes healed
Spirit resounds in my duty revealed
Honor the kingdom and stand as its shield
Rising to serve the van.

Heart of the furnace give weight to my hand
Glowing before me the shape I command
Fashion a fate from the bones of the land
Gage for the dolphin’s crown.


-- Lord Will Schuyler the Younger

... is a 15th century Englishman of uncertain destination: apprenticed to the wit of arithmetic, he still at times endeavors to court the muse.

A Fallen Bard - For Lord Goldwyn of Britain - Will's Poem

A Fallen Bard
For Lord Goldwyn of Britain

There is a place inside the soul
Where hope and dreams can start-
The lights of deeds shine down upon
This stage upon the heart.

For on this stage our dreams are born,
And from it they take wing;
We all can say it shapes our thoughts
'Tis true, "the play's the thing."

The one who walks the stage must be
The one who touched us all,
Who made us laugh, and gave some joy
To elders and the small.

On Hastings green, some years ago
The dream first on you laid-
Since then you've proved with words and deeds
Its flowing accolade.

For small I as when first I heard
Your boisterous voice ring out
You told the world your lesson
And we heard without a doubt.

We heard you chart and plot new worlds,
Our thirst for laughts to slake:
Where Butch and Studley demonstrate
The Laurel's secret shake.

You were an institution
Of a time and place apart:
So true it is, you graced the stage.
The stage upon the heart.

You taught us well, your tricks, your trade
You gave us in our trials.
When we performed your skits and plays
Your wit made people smile.

We gave you ninety-nine percent
Then strove to give your more;
Directed by your wit and skill,
An actor to the core.

Your cloak is draped across a stool,
Its vacant folds lay bare...
But still your spirit gives it weight-
We know your warmth is there.

And though the curtain's weight has come
And gone's your final part-
In all our dreams we know you've won
The stage upon the heart.

-- Lord Will Schuyler the Younger

...who learned from Goldwyn to "make it fun"

(c) Fall 1999