For o'er an hour, Sir Trefor watched alone
as circling stars ran out their silent race;
the twinkling moonbeams graced the fairy's face,
her bed of down more like a rustic throne
made of the love that nature had for her,
by offering its very self in thanks.
The trees stood guard in reverent leafy ranks,
and all around was tiny life astir.
A gap between the trees to north and east
revealed the silent stars that blessed the night -
that marched in ranks, eternally in flight;
then Mercury came dancing through the feast.
Now soon the tree and muffling cloths would show
Sir Robert where he went, and whence to go.

Trefor:
"Dear God, if you have sent me questing here,
I find that I have failed. What wanted you?
I cannot guess what else I had to do,
although by mighty power you changed my year.
From lonely stone of sacrifice one day,
you led me in the company of kings
and knights, till fiery wyvern flapped its wings;
but even that you used to plot my way.
Again, it seemed I died inside the green;
that deadly forest, haven of the Fay,
where waiting helplessly for death I lay,
until you showed what Merlin's words did mean.
All through this quest you've sent me help at need;
oh God above! Your help I want indeed!"


As iridescent light flowed ever clear
from bright Aurorielle, Trefor felt a change,
a tingling twitch that seemed him passing strange;
he felt another's presence drawing near.
He turned, and there behind him stood that Fay
who welcomed him one dreamy forest night -
the Queen who ruled the greenery by right -
now surely God had sent her here to say
some helpful words? But wan her fleeting smile;
seen here, she seemed so much a lesser thing
than this, her brightest sister on the wing,
who lay before her in th'enchanted isle.
So wistfully she said, "Sir Knight, you choose;
for if man chooseth not, all else he'll lose."

The Forest Queen:
"No words of kind advice am I allowed,
except to say your vision shall come true.
The rest is all between our God and you;
not what you say, but why; why have you vowed?
The heart of God is greater than you think,
and even now he wants the best for you;
but choosing no one else can ever do
on your behalf, or all your hopes would sink.
But by my very presence now I call
the one who yet will help you choose aright;
already he sets out to ride the night,
and comes as fast he can, from castle wall.
You will not understand these words I say
until we meet again, one last glad day."


With grieving eyes, she gently turns and goes,
thus leaving Trefor lost with sovereign choice.
But what, what is the question he should voice
to free the dreaming fairy? Heaven knows.

Sir Trefor:
"The King raised up the Queen - so, let it be!
The sorcerers? Oh, let them all be drowned!
The petty king? A brigand, never crowned?
Then that is Robert, anyone can see.
The horse and swan are here - perhaps this isle
shall sink beneath the flood, and thus be drowned;
how else indeed could anything surround
Sir Robert's mystic mages, full of guile?
And heaven's shepherd - who is he? What flock
shall yet be kept alive? I just don't care;
not any longer. Then again, the bear
could yet be Arthur, marching from the dock
with Logres' archers, having sailed the sea.
Who plays the lyre? For it will not be me.

This help is nothing else but tease and taunt;
yet how can I ignore all God has done?
And then again, at rising of the sun,
sweet apples my escape shall flash and flaunt.
What can I do? What fault finds God above?
That first I came to serve, then fell through self?
I failed by shameless wailing o'er an Elf?
That all my heart now hopelessly doth love
Aurorielle?"


He sinks in thought; by now his mind is numb.
He's been awake, indeed, for far too long.
He looks towards the source of all his song,
and loves her smile, but comforts not a crumb.
The sound of hooves arouses him from nods;
then screeching eagle, crow and cooing dove
cacophonously call from skies above,
and six scared sorcerers invoke their gods.
By this the eagle's now identified,
he hopes; and yet his dull and dozing brain
cannot be rallied back to think again.
Too tired to think, he feels; God has not lied,
nor ever will. And God, he's told, wants best
for him on earth, before he enters rest.

Sir Trefor:
"The quest has failed. And though I know not why,
God loves me; yet success he never said
must come before my soul to heaven's led.
And surely very shortly I will die.
How then shall I meet God, whom I have failed?
O'er this sweet body should I stand and fight,
protecting her whose smile is pure delight -
but why? My deeds would never once be hailed.
And I am just a boy with beard of down,
appearing to be strong because the Fay
conferred that gift to bless me yesterday.
Then shall I hide? I cannot. Should I drown?
Argue, surrender, joke and jape or sleep?
Yes, sleep - sleep utterly, sleep ever deep!

Lord, if I fail, then please forgive me now;
I change the plan and purpose that I vow.
And if when Robert kills me, you allow
that in her dreams I stay, then I will bow
and thank you ever gladly. So, enow!
Upon this downy bed I lay my brow,
and ask forever joined - I know not how -
that I might be with bright Aurorielle.

For her smile shows her nature entirely;
from wingtip to tiptoe, all lovely.
More gentle and kind than dawn's sunlight,
more joyous and clean than bright starlight.

I take her dream, and therefore sleep
to hold the dream in slumbers deep
while she shall wake, and sow, and reap.
This, till her name shall pass, I keep."


Then sudden swoons the boy becoming man;
he tries no more to understand God's plan.

As her arms around him fall,
Trefor hears the cockerel's call,
Robert and his sorcerers all -
then into far-off places stumbles.
Island, river, tunnel, gone;
gone from sky the lights that shone;
night that goes forever on,
mournful, like a dying swan,
this the world in which he fumbles.

But as he lay all lost within the dream
and wrapped his clothes about him 'gainst the cold,
he heard a quiet voice, though thunder rolled,
and saw the heav'ns above like lightning gleam.
The voice spake clearly, saying "Come to me,"
and being in a dream, he flew to Him
above the mighty blast of winter grim,
and ent'ring heaven, knew that he was free;
all out the power of devil's deadly sleep,
where heaven's angels safely kept God's sheep.