In Logres came an end to famine long,
and crops grew tall and strong in summer's sun.
The blight that once afflicted them was done,
and every child seemed hale and full of song.

In Dinefwr they heard of Trefor's name,
and no one knew who'd been there when he lay
alone on blighted stone that fateful day;
it disappeared, and no one sought the same.

At Camelot that year there sat enthroned
Arthur, the Britons' King, who reigned there long.
A minstrel came and asked to sing his song;
all afternoon those kingly ears he owned.

Minstrel:
"And on the morrow, men marvelled
for the river ran in its course aright.
Fields were now dry; Fay to the forests
marched in ranks to their realm royal.
Quick came the Queen of the quiet forest,
with the mare Meirion of the mighty ride,
telling the tale of the knight, Trefor,
who won the wings of the wild fairy,
loved by his Lady who left the Fay.
Deemed she he dreamed in a slumber deep;
the Lord shall wake him to lasting love,
far from the fortunes of Fay or mortals.

Thus did the saga of Sunderland cease;
for the land was laid waste by the long lying
of the fertile fairy, fields exhausting,
awoken from waiting on island wild.

Freed from Sir Robert, reign was held rightly
by fair King Percy to the people's pleasing.
With gladness men heard of the great grain ships
that came from the south, slow sailing,
back turned from Badon, battle's captive.

France was now free, since Robert fell;
thus did the people apply to Percy
their tribe should retreat to their treasured homeland.
Freely all sailed to the far French forest.
They rode to fair realms of recent memory,
back to the bosom of bright Broceliande.
So endeth Sunderland's saga. Amen!"


Arthur Pendragon sat in silence long,
and pondered thoughtfully the minstrel's song.
The bard before him, dressed in jester's wise,
had wisdom mixed with sadness in his eyes.

Arthur:
"I would hear more, O Oublié of France,
of Giles the King, who suffered in romance
when brave Columba died at Robert's hand;
the girl whose heart was greatest in the land."

Minstrel:
"Sire, he is all Forgotten, as he longs
to look upon the realm of Arthur, free;
at large to wander, glorying in thee,
and sing forever sad Columba's songs.

He told the people Percy should be King;
that princeling had desired to be their lord,
and since Giles gave up all, with one accord,
the people chose of Percy's name to sing."


Arthur sat still as stone, and gripping fierce
the arms of golden throne; as if to pierce
the heart and soul of Oublié with his eyes;
ever the honest read through tiny lies.

Arthur:
"Well then, O bard, indeed, if such you are -
the bard is yet the very King of Fools -
be now a minstrel blessed where Arthur rules,
to ride my realm and follow on your star.
Proclaiming: 'So says Arthur; none may seek
for Giles the Great, whose realm lies over sea.'
His peace is well deserved, where'er he be,
though he has won the name of Giles the Meek.
If he were here, I'd list him with my knights,
and call him far above the common lot,
and welcome him to sit at Table Round.
He would be blessed as one the King delights
to grant a merry realm nigh Camelot;
unless he seek me, let him not be found.

Since you desire to sing me songs of glory,
told of the true and righteous deeds of those
who sit as equals round, and not in rows,
that Table which itself is famed in story -
Oublié is a name that British tongues
sully with merry jests about the French;
so, for the ease of every man and wench,
now 'Giles des Pommes' shall be your name in songs.
Also, another matter I would seal;
for, as Sir Trefor proved himself a knight,
and yet his shoulders cannot reach me ever -
now I request that in his stead you kneel,
and, as I shut my eyes, I see the sight,
dubbing the boy as he deserves; Sir Trefor.

Then, since no man can know where Trefor be,
and seat be empty left at Table Round,
I ask that you will sit 'midst those renowned,
until Sir Trefor comes to meet with me.
For singing chivalry is your delight;
and minstrel had I never one so able
to render deeds triumphant into fable;
thus will it serve me best you sit as knight.
Then ever round my rafters revels ring;
in Trefor's place you'll sit - yet spared the cost
of battle. For I wish the lyre be played on;
and seated thus, I now command you sing
of how the Britons won and Saxons lost
Midsummer's battle terrible, Mount Badon."


Thus spake the king, and I became Sir Giles,
allowed a while in Trefor's place to stand.
I heard the news that saddened all the land;
for Merlin chose to travel many miles
and leave his lot as Arthur's Sage and Seer,
abandoning his post to seek a dream
that made his agéd eyes to flash and gleam,
and set aside all formerly held dear.
'Twas said he sought a country no man knew,
and looked for it a-questing off afar,
in lonely lands where men no longer are.
For ever in his heart, desire grew
to find not where, but when, began the rhyme:
"looking for England, buried under time."

There ends the tale that oftenmost is told
of how Sir Trefor saved Aurorielle
from deep enchanted dreams of dreadful hell
and starless winters gripped in ever-cold.
But since this poem's hearer will desire
to know what came of him I later knew,
the following account of him must do
until I come to write it all entire.

When brightest Fay Aurorielle arose
to leave the land of Sunderland fore'er,
she flew with swiftest flight to give her care
to Trefor, who with gladdest heart she chose.
From resting place she'd laid him in to wait
until the children four had ris'n on high,
she carried him aloft beyond the sky,
then sought for him the safety that the gate
had brought her body, far away from men -
excepting Robert only. So she sought
to find a sanctuary of good report,
in which could Trefor sleep, until again
he wakes; and thus she went to Chapel Vert,
wherein the strange Green Knight would give him care.

And so the lovers true began their quest;
to enter in each other's hearts complete.
And in their dreams an isle is set apart
where haply in their spirits they may meet.
The waters of the Durrinelm run smooth,
though tunnel is collapsed and none draw near.
A lonely land lies empty all around,
and in the Spirit meet they, ever dear.

Far the fairy flies and wide,
ruling wind and earth and tide;
as she learns to be a bride
to love that does not vary.
Somewhere in a land of dreams,
Trefor fights with demon's schemes,
polished till his spirit gleams
bright as his elvish armour seems,
grown a fitting Knight of Faerie.

Year on year the little stream
keeps its lonely secret ever -
love bower for a Fay and Trefor;
one shall sleep, but both shall dream.