What is the single best epic poem of all time?
Bayushi_seikuro
Hero
HP Lovecraft's Nemesis combined with Billy Joel's Piano Man.
overgeeked
B/X Known World
I bet that would be even better now that AI can mix and merge songs.
“Lyrics” for the curious.
Parmandur
Book-Friend
American Pie.
Lord Shark
Adventurer
Tonguez
A suffusion of yellow
SOLOMON KANE'S HOMECOMING
The white gulls wheeled above the cliffs,the air was slashed with foam,
The long tides moaned along the strand
when Solomon Kane came home.
He walked in silence strange and dazed
through the little Devon town,
His gaze, like a ghost’s come back to life,
roamed up the streets and down.
The people followed wonderingly
to mark his spectral stare,
And in the tavern silently
they thronged about him there.
He heard as a man hears in a dream
the worn old rafters creak,
And Solomon lifted his drinking-jack
and spoke as a ghost might speak:
“There sat Sir Richard Grenville once;
in smoke and flame he passed,
“And we were one to fifty-three,
but we gave them blast for blast.
“From crimson dawn to crimson dawn,
we held the Dons at bay.
“The dead lay littered on our decks,
our masts were shot away.
“We beat them back with broken blades,
till crimson ran the tide;
“Death thundered in the cannon smoke
when Richard Grenville died.
“We should have blown her hull apart
and sunk beneath the Main.”
The people saw upon his wrists
the scars of the racks of Spain.
“Where is Bess?” said Solomon Kane.
“Woe that I caused her tears.”
“In the quiet churchyard by the sea
she has slept these seven years.”
The sea-wind moaned at the window-pane,
and Solomon bowed his head.
“Ashes to ashes and dust to dust,
and the fairest fade,” he said.
His eyes were mystical deep pools
that drowned unearthly things,
And Solomon lifted up his head
and spoke of his wanderings.
“Mine eyes have looked on sorcery
in the dark and naked lands,
“Horror born of the jungle gloom
and death on the pathless sands.
“And I have known a deathless queen
in a city old as Death,
“Where towering pyramids of skulls
her glory witnesseth.
“Her kiss was like an adder’s fang,
with the sweetness Lilith had,
“And her red-eyed vassals howled for blood
in that City of the Mad.
“And I have slain a vampire shape
that sucked a black king white,
“And I have roamed through grisly hills
where dead men walked at night.
“And I have seen heads fall like fruit
in the slaver’s barracoon,
“And I have seen winged demons fly
all naked in the moon.
“My feet are weary of wandering
and age comes on apace;
“I fain would dwell in Devon now,
forever in my place.”
The howling of the ocean pack
came whistling down the gale,
And Solomon Kane threw up his head
like a hound that snuffs a trail.
A-down the wind like a running pack
the hounds of the ocean bayed,
And Solomon Kane rose up again
and girt his Spanish blade.
In his strange cold eyes a vagrant gleam
grew wayward and blind and bright,
And Solomon put the people by
and went into the night.
A wild moon rode the wild white clouds,
the waves in white crests flowed,
When Solomon Kane went forth again
and no man knew his road.
They glimpsed him etched against the moon,
where clouds on hilltop thinned;
They heard an eery echoed call
that whistled down the wind.
ilgatto
How inconvenient
The Lady of Shalott
(by Alfred, Lord Tennyson)
Part I
On either side the river lie
Long fields of barley and of rye,
That clothe the wold and meet the sky;
And through the field the road runs by
To many-towered Camelot;
And up and down the people go,
Gazing where the lilies blow
Round an island there below,
The island of Shalott.
Willows whiten, aspens quiver,
Little breezes dusk and shiver
Through the wave that runs for ever
By the island in the river
Flowing down to Camelot.
Four grey walls, and four grey towers,
Overlook a space of flowers,
And the silent isle imbowers
The Lady of Shalott.
By the margin, willow-veiled,
Slide the heavy barges trailed
By slow horses; and unhailed
The shallop flitteth silken-sailed
Skimming down to Camelot:
But who hath seen her wave her hand?
Or at the casement seen her stand?
Or is she known in all the land,
The Lady of Shalott?
Only reapers, reaping early
In among the bearded barley,
Hear a song that echoes cheerly
From the river winding clearly,
Down to towered Camelot:
And by the moon the reaper weary,
Piling sheaves in uplands airy,
Listening, whispers "'Tis the fairy
Lady of Shalott."
Part II
There she weaves by night and day
A magic web with colours gay.
She has heard a whisper say,
A curse is on her if she stay
To look down to Camelot.
She knows not what the curse may be,
And so she weaveth steadily,
And little other care hath she,
The Lady of Shalott.
And moving through a mirror clear
That hangs before her all the year,
Shadows of the world appear.
There she sees the highway near
Winding down to Camelot:
There the river eddy whirls,
And there the surly village-churls,
And the red cloaks of market girls,
Pass onward from Shalott.
Sometimes a troop of damsels glad,
An abbot on an ambling pad,
Sometimes a curly shepherd-lad,
Or long-haired page in crimson clad,
Goes by to towered Camelot;
And sometimes through the mirror blue
The knights come riding two and two:
She hath no loyal knight and true,
The Lady of Shalott.
But in her web she still delights
To weave the mirror's magic sights,
For often through the silent nights
A funeral, with plumes and lights
And music, went to Camelot:
Or when the moon was overhead,
Came two young lovers lately wed;
"I am half sick of shadows," said
The Lady of Shalott.
Part III
A bow-shot from her bower-eaves,
He rode between the barley-sheaves,
The sun came dazzling through the leaves,
And flamed upon the brazen greaves
Of bold Sir Lancelot.
A red-cross knight for ever kneeled
To a lady in his shield,
That sparkled on the yellow field,
Beside remote Shalott.
The gemmy bridle glittered free,
Like to some branch of stars we see
Hung in the golden Galaxy.
The bridle bells rang merrily
As he rode down to Camelot:
And from his blazoned baldric slung
A mighty silver bugle hung,
And as he rode his armour rung,
Beside remote Shalott.
All in the blue unclouded weather
Thick-jewelled shone the saddle-leather,
The helmet and the helmet-feather
Burned like one burning flame together,
As he rode down to Camelot.
As often through the purple night,
Below the starry clusters bright,
Some bearded meteor, trailing light,
Moves over still Shalott.
His broad clear brow in sunlight glowed;
On burnished hooves his war-horse trode;
From underneath his helmet flowed
His coal-black curls as on he rode,
As he rode down to Camelot.
From the bank and from the river
He flashed into the crystal mirror,
"Tirra lirra," by the river
Sang Sir Lancelot.
She left the web, she left the loom,
She made three paces through the room,
She saw the water-lily bloom,
She saw the helmet and the plume,
She looked down to Camelot.
Out flew the web and floated wide;
The mirror cracked from side to side;
"The curse is come upon me," cried
The Lady of Shalott.
Part IV
In the stormy east-wind straining,
The pale yellow woods were waning,
The broad stream in his banks complaining,
Heavily the low sky raining
Over towered Camelot;
Down she came and found a boat
Beneath a willow left afloat,
And round about the prow she wrote
The Lady of Shalott.
And down the river's dim expanse,
Like some bold seër in a trance
Seeing all his own mischance--
With a glassy countenance
Did she look to Camelot.
And at the closing of the day
She loosed the chain, and down she lay;
The broad stream bore her far away,
The Lady of Shalott.
Lying, robed in snowy white
That loosely flew to left and right--
The leaves upon her falling light--
Through the noises of the night
She floated down to Camelot:
And as the boat-head wound along
The willowy hills and fields among,
They heard her singing her last song,
The Lady of Shalott.
Heard a carol, mournful, holy,
Chanted loudly, chanted lowly,
Till her blood was frozen slowly,
And her eyes were darkened wholly,
Turned to towered Camelot.
For ere she reached upon the tide
The first house by the water-side,
Singing in her song she died,
The Lady of Shalott.
Under tower and balcony,
By garden-wall and gallery,
A gleaming shape she floated by,
Dead-pale between the houses high,
Silent into Camelot.
Out upon the wharfs they came,
Knight and burgher, lord and dame,
And round the prow they read her name,
The Lady of Shalott.
Who is this? and what is here?
And in the lighted palace near
Died the sound of royal cheer;
And they crossed themselves for fear,
All the knights at Camelot:
But Lancelot mused a little space;
He said, "She has a lovely face;
God in his mercy lend her grace,
The Lady of Shalott."
tl;dr:
Last edited:
CleverNickName
Limit Break Dancing
It's not epic, but it was the poem that inspired my first D&D games.
The Splendor Falls
Alfred, Lord Tennyson
The splendor falls on castle walls
Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
O, hark, O, hear! how thin and clear,
Blow, bugles; answer, echoes dying, dying, dying.
O love, they die in yon rich sky,
And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying.
I loved the imagery and rhythm of this poem so much that I convinced my teacher to let me do a whole "book report" on it (instead of, you know, a book). It was 6th grade; I'm sure she was just thrilled to have a kid who was interested in poetry in her class. Fortunately she let me stick to just this one poem, and not the entire "The Princess" Medley that it comes from...
Apparently, Alfred wrote this poem after a visit to a glacial lake in Switzerland, where he watched fishing boats bringing in their nets in for the day. They used bugles to communicate with each other, and each blast of a bugle set off a chain of musical echoes that seemed to last forever. It inspired him to write this poem.
The poem is about bugle music and the way it transports the listener to a magical place. So he gave this poem a musical cadence and structure, and wrote it such that it mimics a fading echo when read aloud. The music is magical and reaches forever, all the way to the Elf kingdom, where the elves respond with horns of their own. But more than that, "The Splendor Falls" is a poem about the "echo" of a person's life, and the fading memories that they leave behind when they die, echoing "from soul to soul...forever and forever."
Soon after I finished that book report, I started looking for a D&D setting for my friends that would use the same town as a "home base" for all of the adventures the characters would have. (Remember, this was the 1980s...the idea of a "campaign" wasn't really a thing yet.) It was serendipitous that the Town of Threshold, in the Grand Duchy of Karameikos (of the Mystara setting) was a lake town at the foot of a mountain range, complete with a "wild cataract" (waterfall).
Anyway. Thanks for the trip down memory lane, @Whizbang Dustyboots . I love poetry, and this one is especially dear to me.
The Splendor Falls
Alfred, Lord Tennyson
The splendor falls on castle walls
and snowy summits old in story;
The long light shakes across the lakes,and the wild cataract leaps in glory.
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
O, hark, O, hear! how thin and clear,
and thinner, clearer, farther going!
O, sweet and far from cliff and scarThe horns of Elfland faintly blowing!
Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying,Blow, bugles; answer, echoes dying, dying, dying.
O love, they die in yon rich sky,
They fain on hill or field or river;
Our echoes roll from soul to soul,and grow forever and forever.
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying.
I loved the imagery and rhythm of this poem so much that I convinced my teacher to let me do a whole "book report" on it (instead of, you know, a book). It was 6th grade; I'm sure she was just thrilled to have a kid who was interested in poetry in her class. Fortunately she let me stick to just this one poem, and not the entire "The Princess" Medley that it comes from...
Apparently, Alfred wrote this poem after a visit to a glacial lake in Switzerland, where he watched fishing boats bringing in their nets in for the day. They used bugles to communicate with each other, and each blast of a bugle set off a chain of musical echoes that seemed to last forever. It inspired him to write this poem.
The poem is about bugle music and the way it transports the listener to a magical place. So he gave this poem a musical cadence and structure, and wrote it such that it mimics a fading echo when read aloud. The music is magical and reaches forever, all the way to the Elf kingdom, where the elves respond with horns of their own. But more than that, "The Splendor Falls" is a poem about the "echo" of a person's life, and the fading memories that they leave behind when they die, echoing "from soul to soul...forever and forever."
Soon after I finished that book report, I started looking for a D&D setting for my friends that would use the same town as a "home base" for all of the adventures the characters would have. (Remember, this was the 1980s...the idea of a "campaign" wasn't really a thing yet.) It was serendipitous that the Town of Threshold, in the Grand Duchy of Karameikos (of the Mystara setting) was a lake town at the foot of a mountain range, complete with a "wild cataract" (waterfall).
Anyway. Thanks for the trip down memory lane, @Whizbang Dustyboots . I love poetry, and this one is especially dear to me.
Last edited:
Mad_Jack
Legend
My college drama teacher, John Basinger (he played Alan Jones in Children of a Lesser God), had memorized THE WHOLE DAMN THING, and used to perform it live, doing completely distinct characters for everyone who speaks in the poem.
Similar Threads
