The Cockatrice

‘Ere one day did hie away,
an’ that day there did pass by
creatures I can scarcely say,
ne’er beholden i’ mine eye:

A faerie, fair, i’ the air,
flying yonder to an’ fro
ear to ear to ear an’ e’er
whisp’ring as the wind doth blow.

An’ ‘ere mine ear ‘e came near,
voice o’ the Morrígan, that
obscure crow, that carrion seer,
speaking on mine hillside sat.

“My fine friend, dost thou behold,
or hast thou heretofore been told,
word of the far off mountains cold
whence marcheth forth a man so bold
to curse against our order old,
to cast our lord into the fold?

That roguish wretch doth yonder walk,
but fear thou not—he soon shall balk;
he doth on Kingdoms of Naught talk;
forgotten with the chiming clock.
A fool doth with his own self hock,
but hear now how his tongue doth mock.”

‘Ere did ‘is procession halt,
an’ began ‘is singsong speech;
surely as the sea hath salt,
so ‘is tongue did all ‘round reach:

“A truthful telling of a treasured tale
hath thoughts of times unspent so strongly snatched;
yea, ‘tis the story of a poor man pale
who by the Charadrius on life latched.

For from his forehead aching was he bled,
but blood did but a sanguine mealtime make;
the leeches lying gorged in puddles red;
they slept whilst he did agonize awake.

Ah, but in the autumn’s evening sunset
sat silhouetted in the window’s frame
the Charadrius gazing hopeful yet,
which took itself the illness and the shame.

The sun then burnt away the bird in flight;
thrice plunging undersea it flew aright.”

Methought I a glow did see
‘bout ‘im in the morning light,
but no garment great wore ‘e:
a tattered tunic, once white.

Stirring now an’ stepping on,
mine own feet the same thing did.
Rushing forth ‘afore ‘e’d gone,
following behind, I hid.

Wi’ me went the faerie fair,
whisp’ring e’er, an’ ‘e I heard,
wi’ a flowing stream o' air,
‘gainst the tide o’ this man’s words:

“Lo! hither stands a splendid seaside tree
who strangely bears for fruit a flock of geese.
When ripened fully, falling some are free,
these landing safely in the water’s peace.”

“Absurd creatures! this thou knowest;
they may even be the lowest!
‘tis a fool with which thou goest.”

“But O those silly souls which strike the soil;
they suff’ring with snapped necks, the fox doth feast
on the forlorn friends no longer loyal,
who fled the roaring sea to feed the beast.”

“And truly ‘tis the fate of all
who dare to heed the downward call,
all freely to the fox they fall."

“Daring some dive down the dreary deep,
these geese again will rise above to fly,
and home these hie unto a kingly keep
on far off mountains there beyond the sky.”

“Devoured or drowned, I suffer how:
torture later or anguish now?
The tree, I choose; wouldst thou allow?"

“For now from thence my march I must not stall.
O gentle goose, I pray thee watch thy fall.”

Onward on the road ‘e went,
the faerie an’ I behind,
knowing wither ‘e was sent,
knowing what ‘e was to find.

Trees decay’d an’ rotten logs
lined the road ‘ere on each side;
this land’s naught but wretched bogs
wheresoe’er our king resides.

Past the castle-guard centaur
‘e went, we ‘im giving chase.
Breaking down the dishevel’d door,
we hid from our king’s cruel face.

“O Cockatrice, Our Lord and King,
hearest how the wind doth sing?
Yonder shouldst thou thy sight bring.”

“O Lord of Flies, which flies to corpses cling
that line the wall of thine horrendous hall;
O Prince of Serpents, gazing thy grave sting,
I do return thy gaze that thou shalt pall.”

“Fear him not, O King of this World,
in blackened silence art thou furled.
Against thee arms cannot be hurled!”

“For if the prophets ever truthful spoke
then, true, by sight shalt thou be surely slain.
Still cowering behind thy nighttime cloak,
thence fallen never shalt thou rise again.”

“But in the open standeth he;
thou shalt see him before he ye,
so cast thine eyes—to victory—”

“O Cockatrice King, methinks that th’art blind,
else wherefore hast thou seen me not yet here,
lest seeing thou did naught but thyself find,
mirrored in mine armour crystal clear.”

“Gnash thy teeth: hither he lieth,
in his darkness, lo, he dieth
for he did his own self spieth!”

“And with its master malevolent spent
shall all this putrid place henceforth be rent.”

The castle walls did crumble,
and the centaur guard took flight,
the moon i’self did stumble
as the stars fell from the night.

Now the horizon breaking
where bare mountains stand behind,
they i’ the distance quaking,
became slowly misaligned.

‘e then waved for mine approach,
i’ my fear I could not turn;
I heard the faerie’s reproach,
as the whole word ‘round did burn:

“Thou sought him dead, but thou didst fail,
I warned thee fair of this man’s trail.
Now look, the sky in flames doth hail!
If but thine hand would take the nail,
if thou wouldst dare to risk the vale,
perhaps thine heart would hold the scale.

Thou traitor to both he and me,
best hang thyself from yonder tree.
If but thou didst never be!
And heed not any wave of he
that overthrows all thou dost see
—but cast aside thine enemy.”