Deviation Actions
Literature Text
Fie! Fie!
Forsooth, wist I,
Much seemeth out of sorts.
Pale moonlight falls,
‘Pon darksome walls;
Fey shadow o’er the courts.
Fey and fie,
For evil’s nigh;
Doth spirit darkly stain.
Sleep doth refuse to dulcetize,
The greater then the strain.
Fly! Fly!
Heed ye my cry!
For watch ye not the doors?
Dim twilight lay,
On landscape fey.
Mist sprawleth ‘cross the moors.
Fie and Hark!
Doth eye not mark,
The brimstone-flash of hell?
The Gurlock creeps,
Down from the steeps;
I know his reek right well.
Fie! Fie!
Too late to hide!
Up now, and bar the door!
The creature crawls,
O’er stony walls,
Yet ye lay on the floor?
Hearken! Hear!
For death lurks near!
The creature’s drool drips warm.
Unto that beast,
Strength is a feast;
Weak is the strong man’s arm.
Ye lazy dafts!
I’ve with thy hafts,
Barred entrance to these halls;
This Grendel they,
Shan’t hold at bay;
Scarce give pause to his claws.
Hear, thou knave:
Coward and brave,
Both wines doth Gurlock savor.
He reveleth,
In blood and gore,
Of men, whatever flavor.
Up ho! To Arms!
Steel signet raise,
His flesh to seal and sign!
Vintage of fight,
That draught shall bite!
Let combat taint his wine.
Lo! Forsooth,
Death comes this day,
So let us die as men;
The rat does flee,
No rats are we!
With honor valiant then!
Hark and ho!
Come stay this woe.
Deign ye with me to stand?
Ill shall it be,
Requited ye,
This night in Heaven’s land.
Alas! Fie!
I ask ye why,
Ye’d not bar up the doors?
The beast gives ye,
Thine death-wrought sleep;
Thy gore laps from the floors.
Woe and woe;
To death I go.
Would that I’d downed some ale;
For Gurlock either way had fed,
On my flesh, dead and pale.
Ho, beast! And heed,
‘Tis meet, thy deed,
My blade should cross thy claws:
Thine arrogance,
Thy mesmer-trance,
The blood upon thy jaws.
To hell! To hell,
Ye’ll go right well;
For have I yet my breath?
My steel shall sing;
My steel shall sting;
Bite deeply to thy death!
Ay, and ay,
We’ll strive this day;
Me and thee ‘neath rising sun.
Thy hide is thick,
But sword shall stick;
Draw blood ere fight is done.
Oh fear, leave me;
I can’t have thee,
For now I mustn’t quail.
Beast presses sore,
His strength grow’th more;
My heart dost greatly pale.
Woe! Behold!
Death bloweth cold!
My cry sounds on the heath.
My foe didst take,
And blade he brake.
Blood reddens smiling teeth.