Songs of Narnia

EveningStar

EveningStar

Mage Scribe
Staff member
Knight of the Noble Order
Royal Guard
This space is for poetry about Narnia, much of it by Narnians, tho' not all. I begin:

A SOLDIER'S LAMENT
Writ before Beruna's Struggle

Night is nigh
Stars of Heaven unfurling
Write the epitaph of bygone Day

Sil'vry moon
Silent clouds impearling
Cross the diamond sea full underway

Hills of home
Motherland of yearning
Can you see the same nocturnal play?

Hearth and home
There my heart is turning
Ere my light and life are swept away

-- 2nd Lieutenant Leptus, O.L.
 
I think you might like this one even better:

BRIEF SPRING
To the Dead of Beruna

Beruna's fields are bright with blooms
That nod and tremble in the breeze
And round about the open mead
The birds bedeck the verdant trees

We used to pray for blooms and birds
And spent our blood to bring them nigh
To green the trees and free the land
And here beneath the grass we lie

Keep high the flag and sing the songs
And ne'er forget the price we paid
Or we, though dead, will not find peace
Though still beneath the sod we're laid

Our spring was brief
 
THERE'S A FAMOUS HEROIC TUNE I NEVER GET TIRED OF USING. A CERTAIN WELSH CENTAUR WILL RECOGNIZE IT.

This should be sung in B flat major. The words are suitable for many imagined crises:
both in canonical Narnian situations and in EveningStar's Byron-on-Wells sub-universe.

Dryads, Fauns and Hounds with language,
Armored Kentaurs, hard to damage,
Bears and Rabbits growing cabbage,
Justly you contend.

Beavers, Foxes, and plain Humans,
Let our land not fall in ruins.
Valor, tempered with wise prudence,
Brings an honored end.

Tash is not the true god;
Aslan, we call You God!
Adam's Earth can see Your worth,
So we will never need any new god!

Friends of Narnia, on to glory;
This will ever be your story!
Ever bear these words before ye:
THIS WE SHALL DEFEND.
 
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IF DREAMS CAME TRUE

If fondest wishes could come true
I'll tell you what I'd want to do;
I'd run to Aslan's soft embrace
And plant sweet kisses on his face
And, trembling, stroke his silky mane
And share with him my joy and pain;
He'd seal me for his courts above
And I would pledge undying love
And that is what I'd surely do
If fondest wishes could come true
 
I'm reminded of King Tirian finding his father alive again on the Heavenly side of the Stable, and the rejuvenated father embracing Aslan. The Christ Avatar gave His good and faithful servant the kisses of a Lion.
 
Song From My School Days--or at Least the Tune

When I was a foal, I and several other foals from our herd learned our basic letters alongside the human children who lived nearby. From one of their colts--boys, I think you call them--I learned a merry song about some mouse or other. As the years went by, I thought of another mouse worthy of a merry song, and I'll share it with you all now. Perhaps you'll know or can figure out the tune:

Who's the rodent warrior that fights so brave-il-lee?
R-E-E, P-I-C, H, E-E-P!

In battle fought at Aslan's Howe got wounded cau-dal-ly!*
R-E-E, P-I-C, H, E-E-P!

Reepicheep!
Reepicheep!

He sailed his cor-a-cle to Aslan's land (And got there!)

Now he waits at Heaven's Gates to welcome you and me!
R-E-E, P-I-C, H, E-E-P!

--
*Caudally means 'in the tail.' I'm explaining that for those of you not fortunate enough to have a tail of your own.

I hope you liked that!

Pholus
 
Pholus, mae gen i waed Cymreig hefyd. But mostly Is mise Albannach den fhuil rìoghail., laddiebuck. (Scotch, the nation not the potion).
Here's my first attempt at Scottish ballad:

Ann an Narnia an saoghal ann an tost gun anail;
A’ feitheamh ri teachd nan ceathrar;
An deach an teachd fàidheadaireachd a shèideadh;
Ann am briathran teine leis an Leòmhann Mòr!

Rough translation:

In Narnia the world in breathless hush
Awaits the coming of the four
Whose prophetic coming was breathed
In words of fire by the Great Lion!
 
This is an old song from my family:

Mare's Lullaby

Stand over next to me, my child
The wind is blowing strong and wild
Shelter in my loving lee,
Come, my foal, stand next to me.

Watch the rippling grasses bow
As the wind blows past them now,
When the sun comes up today,
You will run through them in play.

See the butterfly? It's true
He cannot run, like you do.
Pause and marvel, watch his flight.
Let it be this hour's delight.

Hear your father's piercing neigh?
That means he's not far away.
Though he's distant, he still cares,
But this field's for foals and mares.

You can smell your loving dam.
Always be sure where I am.
Just be careful not to stray.
Do not move too far away.

The sun on grass will make you grow
In the end you'll come to know,
What your own first foal reveals--
How a loving mother feels.
 
I AM COMPOSING THIS AS I GO AS AN EXERCISE IN WRITING UNDER PRESSURE.

WHEN IT RAINS IN THE WOOD BETWEEN THE WORLDS

There is a wood which is no world,
yet is all worlds as sure as none
And in that silent windless grove
there runs a path, a pleasant path
that winds its winsome way around
the verdant trees which vigil stand.

And on that path, in sapphire blue,
are many pools both still and deep;
This is the hub of all that is
and every pool that flows therefrom
has roots in far-flung ports of call.

They do not mix, these sapphire pools
Nor do their own inhabitants
Suspect the wealth of other worlds;
Their music, science, and their psalms
all had their cradle and their nurse
And grew to walk their road alone

And yet, and yet, the sages say
Though time itself does not progress
There comes a storm with passion bold
That sweeps the trees both to and fro
And bathes the land in cleansing rain
That flows in runnels, pools in ponds

And when the water crests the pools
and joins the flow of other ponds
There forms a fleeting bridge between
Where gentle water fingers touch
Where tender water hands caress
And windows open here and yon

Among our curiosities
No doubt some baubles come to mind
Which foolishly or bravely trod
The evenescent path thereby
And ended up like ocean fish
Left stranded in the tidal pools

John Burkitt (EveningStar)
 
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