Please let me tell a tale of love and war
and though my skill at wordcraft is not good
I promise you have not heard this before;
Chivalry demands those displeased to brood.
One Tir-y-Don Spring with flowers in bloom
At Rencester I walked amongst the throng.
I watched rapiers and broadswords, men in plume
But games are chief interest of this song.
The tourney which I took part was bizarre
A nine men's morris game did decide it
My love, of life that peerless shining star,
Over in the opponents chair did sit.
She did forgive me, at long last, but still
I should have deferred to the lady's will.
-Benjamin J. Cooper.
Fair Spring streaks chivalry across the Sunken Gardens.
Severe William Bourtetourt, may he court kind Mary.
He salutes his lady well before his meet at the tourney.
The walls of academe quiver at the speed of his rapiers,
To a degree never seen in all Atlantia.
The crowd went Aramark and the applause near Tir-y-Don
The historical college.
Wren Hall all but crowed,
What a day at Rencester.
A woman clad in mail not in fur
Strode purposefully towards Rencester
Her love was trapped on a ledge
Of a building of the old College
He held a basket of brown and earthy yam
And his name strange enough was William
The lady dressed in armor clanking scary
was known as the Lady Rosa Mary.
As she neared the shores of Atlantia
A dark fellow yelled "Ill de-pant ya!"
As the day's ride grew very hot
She got water for her horse Bourtetourt.
Her love gave out a call
As his back was pressed to the brick wall.
This Lady Rosa Mary has long dark hair
That once was the cause of men to stare at her beauty fair.
Birds sang and squirrels did spring
Form tree branches as churchbell began to ring.
My love's mug has a leak
Who will win the lucky streak?
Oh can you see? Yes, can you see?
This place is full of chivalry.
The day ends at full dark
Some food is brought here by Aramark
As time passes and sleeps deer and fawn
So does the Barony of Tir-y-Don.
The rapier fighters take the field
Who will win and who will yield?
The sun beats down its hot degree
One land and water, on you and me.
Sunken Gardens has no bloom
Just grass sidewalks, lots of room.
This place is very historical
And that's not forseen by an oracle,
Mary rescued her dear William
And his basket of earthly yam
As a bard writing the Carol
He - the bard said his name was Farrell
The dark clad bard write more in the theme
Dabbling in magic, dance, and academe.
Then the bard Farrell, William and Mary left on a journey
To leave for the next far distant tourney.
-Muirne ni Seumas an Corcha
(with the following words: Rencester, Colonial, Honor, Duke of Gloucester, Atlantia, College Champion, Tir-y-Don, Wren, mermaid, Sunken Gardens, William, Sullivan, Lord, Mary, Jefferson, Chivalry, Dolphin, Lady, Tournament.The Duke of Gloucester set to sea
Aboard the Rencester Dolphin.
The Isles for Atlantia to see
And the famous Sunken Gardens.
Honor and Chivalry Spurred him on
To where the mermaids tarry.
Beyond the boundaries of Tir-y-Don
and the College of William and Mary.
On the Colonial Isle of Wrens
He said to a gracious Lady:
"You will make me a lord of men
If you will have my baby.
I'll be your tournament champion
I'll serve you forever without sleep
While Harry Sullivan still acts dumb
And George Jefferson is still cheap."
--Lady Assar merch Owain
The Dread Baroness Oriana of Tir-y-Don
Has a Golden Dolphin named Jefferson
and Also a mermaid named Lady Mary
who the Duke of Gloucester gave a poison berry
he had no honor or chivalry
and he disgraced the Rencester Livery
the college called on Lord William the Wren
to be their Colonial Champion
a tournament to be fought
the Sunken Gardens the spot
the Duke choose as his champion Sullivan
then fought and fought again and again
then with determination and despair
William threw the final bow with a cry of Atlantia the fair
-- By Patrick O'Neill of Cork
Near Rencester in Atlantia lived a Lord call Jefferson
to his lady Mary he said "I'll go and be your champion"
but along his way he met a mermaid name wren
and Mary never ever saw him again.
and now he and she are under the sea.
-- by Yael bat Boaz
A pensive Lady Mary, strolling in her Sunken Gardens,
mused unto a little wren upon a bush
"However shall I reconcile me to these men who don't beguile me
Since a champion from among them I must choose?"
Some have told me "Hold a tourney," others - "Choose a man with honor"
But my heart considers all and leaves me cold.
Duke of Gloucester, him of Rencester, or Lord Jefferson of Worchester
Tho all show much of Chivalry, all are OLD!
For dearest dolphin, merry mermaid, on my fountain crying with me
William Sullivan's the lad my hearts set on
but they've sent him off to college in Colonial Atlantia
and I am left home sighing "Tir-y-Don"
--by Peggy of Brodie
From Rencester's Celebration of Spring. March 15, 2003
(with the following words: ale, amber, ambition, anachronism, astrology, anumal, Antioch, Arab, ambidexterous, Arthur, Scandanavia, Salute, scepter, scriptorium, serenade, serf, Society, Spring, statuesqu [good-liking], Steward.
Ale, Amber, Arthur and his dog.
From Rencester's Celebration of Spring. March 20, 2004
All poets were challenged to compose a rondeau. The rondeau is a French verse form developed in the thirteenth century and sung by troubadors. The form remained popular through the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, not only in secular music but also in sacred.
The rondeau has unspecified meter, and relies on rhyme and repetition. The poem's fifteen lines are broken down into three stanzas of five, four, and six lines. There are two rhymes through the entire poem, and the first part of the first line is repeated at the end of the second and third verse, so that the rhyme scheme looks like aabba aabR aabbaR.
Hint: Think X-files.
Thou call'st me coward, that I speak not my love
Though many years thou'st been my soul of souls.
Thou wondrest that with words I do not prove
This fire that doth burn and consume me whole.
Yet doth not my every action toward thee tell
Of devotion true, of passion without fear?
To world's end, or unto the gates of Hell
I'd journey, for no cause but thou were near.
I speak not but to give thee leave to speak--
I would not force thee to a sudden choice.
My mean estate, I know, makes my suit weak--
I hold my tongue till thou, love, find thy voice.
Look into thy own heart, and so there find
The choice--and cowardice--were always thine.