The Light Of Aethelgome Poem by Christian Muller

Arise fair king! This dreary day may be
Your last upon this middle earth. Don't dwell
Behind these walls with cleanly axe. You're free
To weep while wighes do keep your gates and fell
The woods of wicked fiends. That dare to dim
Our dying wick. Oh, stand brave Aethelgome.
Oh he that fought the waves, which snatched from him
His heart and kin. And now will take his home.
So bravest wolf. Who fought for pups that knew
no fear behind his might. That comely king
he rests beneath your weary eyes. So true
Are you brave leurd. Oh giver of the ring.
Take arms my king! And snatch foul Wyrd's quill.
So we may pen our final page upon this hill.