The Once And Future King

The legions departed, a distant command,
Rome pulled its grip from this mist-shrouded land.
No longer the eagles, on standards held high,
Just silence descending beneath a gray sky.
The walls they had built, now stood stark and alone,
A whisper of power, from a crumbling stone.

The Saxon longships, then blackened the foam,
Bringing new hunger, far from their home.
Across the cold waters, they swept to the shore,
A relentless tide, demanding much more.
No unified banner, no army to hold,
Just tribal disputes and stories untold.
The people cried out, in fear and in pain,
As invaders encroached, again and again.

From out of the chaos, a leader arose,
A man of conviction, as everyone knows.
Ambrosius Aurelianus, his name they would call,
A Roman-born spirit, standing strong for them all.
He gathered the chieftains, ignited a spark,
A flickering hope in the gathering dark.
He fought back the pagans with sword and with shield,
A promise of peace on a hard-won field.

For years he held firm, a bulwark so grand,
Protecting the remnants of this troubled land.
He dreamed of a future where order might reign
And the heart of Britannia could flourish again.
But even a hero must face his last day
And destiny's hand took his spirit away.
Ambrosius fell and the light dimmed anew,
Leaving a vacuum for what would ensue.

The stage now was set for a legend to rise,
Beneath the old stars and the watchful Fae skies.
A land still divided in shadow and dread,
Awaiting the one who would lead them instead.

Ancient whisper in the rustling leaves,
A shadow dancing where the forest weaves.
Not just a man, nor simply a sage,
He turns the world, page by turning page. 

With eyes that hold the starlight of the past,
And wisdom built to forever last.
A silent hum upon the air, unseen,
Before the kings, he's always been. 

Oh, Merlin, the name like an old, deep bell,
From Camelot's dawn, a story to tell.
He walks through the ages, time's gentle guide,
With secrets of magic, he holds deep inside. 

The sorcerer, the dreamer, the one who knows all,
Answering destiny's every call.
Through mists of Avalon, his spirit gleams,
Woven in legend, and waking dreams.
He fashioned kingdoms with a whispered plea,
And saw the future, for all to see. 

From dragon's fire to a hopeful star,
He shaped the moments, near and far.
A mentor's hand, a powerful mind,
Leaving his mark on all mankind. 

Like an old, deep bell,
From Camelot's dawn, a story to tell.
He walks through the ages, time's gentle guide,
With secrets of magic, he holds deep inside. 

The sorcerer, the dreamer, the one who knows all,
Answering destiny's every call.
Some say he sleeps beneath the earth so deep,
While ancient promises he's sworn to keep.
But listen closely, when the night grows still,
You'll feel his magic, bending to his will. 

Oh, Merlin, the name like an old, deep bell,
From Camelot's dawn, a story to tell.
He walks through the ages, time's gentle guide,
With secrets of magic, he holds deep inside. 

The sorcerer, the dreamer, the one who knows all,
Answering destiny's every call.
Yes, Merlin, he's always there.
A whisper on the wind, a magic in the air.

The Ancient One rose, from secrets buried deep.
The Lady of the Lake, in her watery domain,
Felt the world's imbalance, felt the rising pain.

A fragile land divided, by conflict, greed, and fear,
A darkness gathering, drawing ever near.
She summoned Merlin, the druid, old and wise,
With fire in his spirit and stars within his eyes.

“Take this blade, Caliburn, forged in magic's flame,”
Her voice a whisper, yet it spoke a king's true name.
"For the hand that wields it, with purpose strong and clear,
Shall unite the scattered, banish doubt and fear.
Not for hate or conquest, but for peace's sacred plea,
A light to lead the broken, a realm to set them free!"

Through shadowed glades, and mountains cold and high,
Merlin bore the sword, beneath a watchful sky.
He sought a leader, with vision and with might,
To stand against the darkness and claim the fading light.
Then he found Uther, a chieftain bold and proud,
His spirit burning brightly, above the warring crowd.
A heart of fire, a will to make things right,
Chosen by the ancients, for their guiding light.

Caliburn in his grasp, a blazing, vital force,
Uther Pendragon rode, upon his destined course.
He faced the northern warlords, the Picts of painted skin,
The Saxon raiders howling, where chaos had set in.
Through thunderous battles, and courage fiercely shown,
The blade cut through the hatred, on a bloody, war-torn throne.
Each strike a promise, of a future yet to gleam,
A sovereign rising, from a fragmented dream.

The banners fell, the fighting ceased at last,
A fragile peace was born, a shadow from the past.
From warring tribes and kingdoms, a nation took its form,
Shielded by Caliburn, weathered every storm.
Uther, the uniter, by ancient power blessed,
Had brought a fragile stillness, to a land put to the test.
The sword had done its duty, its mission now complete,
A kingdom gathered, at the dragon's royal feet.

The land was bound, by blade and kingly word,
A legacy established, a powerful accord.
But secrets whispered still, beneath the ancient stone,
A waiting destiny, for the rightful heir alone...

A king's desire, a burning gaze,
For Igraine, in those ancient days.
But she was bound, another's wife,
A perilous path, to claim her life.
He longed for beauty, light, and grace,
Ignoring honor, time, and place.

A forbidden love, a whispered plea,
A dark enchantment, wild and free.
Uther's hunger, a potent spell,
For Igraine's heart, where shadows fell.
A kingdom's fate, forever swayed,
By promises, so darkly made.

Merlin's magic, a twisted art,
To play a deceptive, cruel part.
In Tintagel's walls, a cunning guise,
He entered her chamber, with stolen eyes.
A moment's passion, fierce and deep,
A hidden secret, meant to keep.

A forbidden love, a whispered plea,
A dark enchantment, wild and free.
Uther's hunger, a potent spell,
For Igraine's heart, where shadows fell.
A kingdom's fate, forever swayed,
By promises, so darkly made.

From this union, born of night,
A legend rises, pure and bright.
But sorrow lingers, a heavy cost,
For innocence, forever lost.

Their tragic tale, a king's desire,
Fueled by passion, burning like fire.
Uther and Igraine, a fateful bind,
Leaving echoes on the wind.

Unbidden, swift, from mystic haze,
Merlin appeared, through winding ways.
To Uther's court, with eyes of fire,
He spoke of fate, and old desire.
"Give me the boy! His path is clear,
His destiny calls, banish all fear!
For Avalon decreed, his life must hide,
Until the moment, the stars collide!"

But time, it takes, what strength can't keep,
A king grew weary, his spirit deep.
The sickness gnawed, the dragon's fire fled,
No heir in sight, when he was dead.
His hard-won peace, a fragile thread,
A final duty, called from his bed.

Then Merlin came again, cloaked in the night,
By pale torchlight, a fading sight.
"My King," he whispered, "the hour is near,
To seal your legacy, banish all fear.
The sword you wield, from depths untold,
Must guard the future, brave and bold." 

To the great stone, where spirits dwell,
A sacred journey, breaking the spell.
With his last great might, he raised the blade,
His final testament, a promise made. 

Into the stone, Caliburn he drove,
A king's last stand, a final love.
The mighty sword, now sleeps within,
Awaiting the one, who will truly begin.

In Ector's halls, a boy grew strong,
Though not his kin, he did belong.
Young Arthur, swift, with honest heart,
Played humble squire, his destined part.
For Kay, his brother, proud and bold,
A future king, still to unfold.
He knew no crown, no royal name,
Just simple duties, without fame.

Then whispers spread, of Uther's end,
A broken land, with no true friend.
And in the churchyard, stark and grey,
A mighty stone appeared one day.
A sword embedded, gleaming bright,
"Who pulls me forth, by ancient right,
Shall be the King," the legend said,
And hope returned, where chaos bred.

Knights came from far, with boast and might,
To claim the throne, in morning light.
They pulled and strained, with all their will,
But silent, firm, the sword stood still.
Then Arthur came, for Kay's lost blade,
A simple errand, humbly made.
He grasped the hilt, with gentle hand,
And drew the sword, for all the land!

The lords cried foul, "A trick! A lie!
This unknown boy, beneath our sky?
He cannot rule! He has no claim!"
They scorned his youth, they cursed his name.
Again, again, the sword returned,
By countless hands, its lesson learned.
But only Arthur, pure and true,
Could draw the blade, for all to view.

The common folk, who saw the sign,
Cried, “King! Our King, by grace divine!”
Their voices rose, a mighty roar,
Demanding justice, evermore.
The lords, defeated, bowed their head,
The prophecy, now truly read.
No longer squire, no longer small,
He answered destiny's grand call.

Upon the throne, in ancient crown,
Arthur sat, in Camelot town.
The sword, his sceptre, bright and keen,
A rightful king, a noble scene.
A golden age, began that day,
As shadows of the past gave way.
The boy, the sword, the chosen one,
His reign, his legend, now begun.

Mist hangs low on the ancient isle
A whispered secret, a knowing smile
Born of the earth, of magic's old call
Morgaine's spirit stands strong and tall

From Avalon's heart, her power flows
Where the veil is thin, and the wild wind blows
Sister to kings, but a sorceress true
With Merlin's wisdom, and mysteries new

Shadows dance in her emerald gaze
A destined path through enchanted haze
She walks with spirits, unseen by most
A guardian's fire, a mystical host

From Avalon's heart, her power flows
Where the veil is thin, and the wild wind blows
Sister to kings, but a sorceress true
With Merlin's wisdom, and mysteries new

In Avalon's heart, where old truths lie,
Beneath the moon, a whispered sigh.
The priestess walks, with sacred grace,
To claim her fate, in this hallowed space.
For the land's deep breath, for times to come,
A vital union, quietly begun.

Oh, the veiled embrace, by ancient right,
A sovereign touched by Avalon's light.
No deceit in purpose, but duty's call,
To mend the world, lest it should fall.
Morgaine's essence, a destined seed,
Sown in the earth, for life to feed.

He came unseen, through mystic haze,
Lost in the ritual's sacred maze.
No form was clear, no face revealed,
Just spirit meeting spirit, fully unsealed.
A vessel chosen, for nature's grand design,
Within the temple, a power divine.

Oh, the veiled embrace, by ancient right,
A sovereign touched by Avalon's light.
No deceit in purpose, but duty's call,
To mend the world, lest it should fall.
Morgaine's essence, a destined seed,
Sown in the earth, for life to feed.

She felt the stirring, a life conceived,
A prophecy woven, to be believed.
For the balance of ages, a sacred thread,
From queen to king, the future led.
A child of power, born of two great lines,
Across the ages, destiny aligns.

From mist-shrouded isle, a new soul takes flight,
Child of the dawn, and the deepening night.
A fated moment, pure and profound,
Where ancient magic on earth is found.

High on a hill, where the eagles soar,
Stands a legend whispered, forevermore.
Camelot, built of stone and of dream,
A beacon of hope, a powerful gleam.
Its banners unfurled, against skies so blue,
Where honor was forged, and hearts beat true.

Oh, Camelot, with walls so grand,
The heart of a kingdom, across the land.
Where Round Table knights, in their shining array,
Swore sacred vows, to face any day.
A fortress of justice, a glorious sight,
Basking in glory, by day and by night.

The sound of the trumpet, a clear, ringing call,
Echoes through courtyards, embracing them all.
Tales of adventure, and battles so bold,
Within its great chambers, forever unfold.
From tourney and feast, to whispers of fate,
A kingdom's own soul, behind every gate.

Round Table knights, in their shining array,
Swore sacred vows, to face any day.
A fortress of justice, a glorious sight,
Basking in glory, by day and by night.

The clash of steel, a king's command,
A battle raged across the land.
His mighty sword, a trusted friend,
Caliburn, he'd wield it to the end.
But blows were struck, and fate was cruel,
In the heat of war, a shattered jewel.
A cry of anguish, sharp and keen,
His faithful blade, no longer seen.

Broken, scattered, on the field it lay,
The king's heart heavy, dark the day.
Caliburn, in pieces, lost its might,
Fading fast into the fading light.
What hope remained, what courage left to find,
With the soul of battle left behind?

To shadowed waters, deep and still, he came,
Whispering a forgotten, ancient name.
The mist arose, a shimmering display,
The Lady of the Lake, in graceful sway.
She saw his pain, the burden that he bore,
A king undone, forevermore.
She took the shards, a promise in her eyes,
Beneath the water, where new magic lies.

Broken, scattered, on the field it lay,
The king's heart heavy, dark the day.
Caliburn, in pieces, lost its might,
Fading fast into the fading light.
What hope remained, what courage left to find,
With the soul of battle left behind?

In watery depths, a forge unseen,
Where ancient power flowed, serene.
She worked with magic, fire, and grace,
Erasing every flaw, every trace.
A new beginning, shining, strong, and true,
A legendary blade, forged anew.

No longer broken, rising from the deep,
A solemn vow, the secrets that she'd keep.
Excalibur, bathed in mystic light,
Returned to Arthur, in the darkest night.
With renewed purpose, courage in his hand,
A king reborn, to lead his land.

From Caliburn's demise, a legend grew,
The Lady's gift, forever new.
Excalibur, a beacon, bright and bold,
A story whispered, through ages untold.

From distant lands, a knight so pure,
Sir Lancelot, whose fame would long endure.
To Arthur's court, he rode with grace,
The noblest spirit, in that hallowed place.

The King embraced him, loyal and true,
A bond of brotherhood, strong and new.
And by his side, in regal light,
Stood Guinevere, a vision bright.

Her eyes met his, across the hall,
A silent tremor, answering love's soft call.
He saw the Queen, beyond the crown,
A soul reflected, in her gentle frown.
And she, in him, the perfect knight,
A heart untainted, shining bright.
His deeds for her, his victories won,
Beneath the watchful, unsuspecting sun.

A silent vow, they dared not speak,
A love forbidden, fragile, weak.
For Arthur's trust, a sacred shield,
Protected hearts, yet stood revealed.
He saw no shadow, felt no dread,
Just loyalty, where love was bred.
The perfect king, in noble pride,
Unknowing of the truth, they tried to hide.

Each stolen glance, a burning flame,
Each whispered word, a lover's name.
Lancelot's soul, in torment torn,
Between his honour, and a love reborn.
Guinevere, bound by duty's chain,
Yet drawn to passion, through joy and pain.
They knew the cost, the path they trod,
A silent treason, before man and God.

Through jealous whispers, venom spread,
"The Queen, with Lancelot in her bed!"
The court ignited, rage and scorn,
A perfect kingdom, newly torn.
Arthur confronted, face so pale,
His trust betrayed, a bitter wail.

By law condemned to burn in flame,
Guinevere faced the bitter shame.
But Lancelot came, a story told.
With sword unsheathed, he cut them down,
To save his love and lose his crown.
Oh, Gareth fell and Gaheris too,
By friendly hand, a bloody hue.

The Round Table shattered by a lover's plea,
A civil war, for all to see.
Arthur's heart in anguish torn,
His greatest knights, against him sworn.
Across the seas, the battle raged,
A noble dream, in blood engaged.
The King, betrayed by friend and wife,
Paid the ultimate, tragic price.

The dream was dead, the glory gone,
A golden age before the dawn.
Guinevere, in cloistered stone,
Repentant, weeping, all alone.
Lancelot, a hermit's plight,
His soul consumed by endless night.
No solace found, no peace could keep,
Their love, the wound, too wide, too deep.

A simple boy, from the forest's deep,
Where innocence blossomed, and secrets sleep.
Raised from the world, by a mother's soft hand,
Knowing little of kingdoms, or the ways of the land. 

But a knight he saw, in a shimmering gleam,
And awakened within him, a powerful dream.
To ride with the noble, with courage and might,
To seek out his destiny, and follow the light.

He left his home, with a heart pure and bold,
A tale of adventure, waiting to unfold.
To Camelot's halls, where King Arthur held sway,
He came as a stranger, on a bright, hopeful day.

Awkward and raw, with a spirit untamed,
Yet a flicker of greatness, a promise proclaimed.
He learned of the sword, and the lance, and the shield,
A future of glory, now truly revealed.

Then came the summons, a mystical call,
To a castle of wonder, behind a dark wall.
The Fisher King lay, in a sorrowful state,
A wound unhealing, sealed by cruel fate.

The Holy Grail, a chalice of light,
Passed before his eyes, in a mystical sight.
But questions unasked, a silence profound,
As wisdom and insight, could not be found.

Oh, Parzival, the seeker of grace,
On a desolate journey, through time and through space.
For the Holy Grail's truth, he would wander afar,
Guided by destiny, like a lone, distant star.
Through trials and sorrow, through darkness and strife,
To bring healing and solace, to a wounded King's life.

Years passed in wandering, a soul lost in doubt,
The shame of his silence, he couldn't cast out.
Through desolate landscapes, and battles he fought,
The purpose forgotten, the lesson un-taught.
He faced his own failings, his pride and his fear,
Until a hermit's wise words, made the pathway clear.
Compassion and humbleness, now filled his gaze,
Understanding dawning, through the spiritual haze.

Returning at last, to the castle again,
No longer a novice, but a weathered, wise man.
The chalice appeared, with a radiant glow,
And the questions he'd harbored, began now to flow.
"What ails thee, good Uncle? What burdens your soul?"
His voice filled with empathy, making him whole.
The King's wound was mended, the curse cast away,
As dawn broke anew, on that most blessed day.

The Grail's sacred power, revealed in his hand,
A blessing of healing, poured over the land.
Parzival, the pure, who once went astray,
Found salvation and purpose, and lighted the way.

In Brocéliande's enchanted grove,
He sought the one his heart would love.
Merlin walks, with tired, knowing eyes,
To teach the last truths, beneath the western skies.
For Nimue, his love, his final star,
To master magic, no matter how far.
He gave his heart, and all his boundless lore,
For a world of fading light, he could not save anymore.

He took her hand, a final, tender grace,
To seal his spirit, in that sacred place.
No wicked spell, no prison cold and grey,
Just love's embrace, to keep him there to stay.
"My love," he whispered, "I am yours to hold,
A soul returned, from ages growing old.
The mortal world has lost its fated way,
But I will watch you, from my timeless day."

The mortal sun, no longer calls his name,
He's free from war's and kingdoms' fleeting flame.
A world of men, of steel and faith anew,
Has no more need of magic, deep and true.
He chose to stay, a promise he would keep,
In realms of magic, slumbering soft and deep.
To dwell with her, the Lady of the Lake,
A sacred, final choice, for all their sakes.

He is not lost, not broken by deceit,
But found in peace, a mystical retreat.
The old ways live, within his quiet dream,
A silent current, in a changing stream.
He watches all, the fall of Camelot,
The King's last moments, the battles he has fought.
His love, his world, in her warm hands reside,
The lonely keeper, on the other side.

The veil descends… the magic fades away…
He is the last breath of a dying day...
And in that tomb of love, forever blessed,
The lonely prophet finally finds his rest.

Upon the fields of Camlann, where mist lay cold and gray,
Two armies met, a brother's wrath, to seal a final day.
No foreign foe, no distant king, brought forth this bitter end,
But kin against his father's claim, a path he could not mend.

Oh, Mordred's eyes, a twisted gleam, held fire born of dread,
For in his father's kingly dream, he saw himself unled.
A son's ambition, dark and deep, against the one who gave him name,
A cursed bond they could not keep, consumed by pride and flame.

The clash of steel, the dying cry, a kingdom torn apart,
As Arthur's sword, beneath the sky, pierced his own beating heart.
Not by a stranger's vengeful hand, but by his flesh and blood,
A twisted mirror in the land, a flood of tears and mud.

Oh, Mordred's eyes, a twisted gleam, held fire born of dread,
For in his father's kingly dream, he saw himself unled.
A son's ambition, dark and deep, against the one who gave him name,
A cursed bond they could not keep, consumed by pride and flame.

The field lay silent, where chaos had reigned,
The red earth was weeping, with blood deeply stained.
Camlann's last stand, a kingdom's sad fall,
His noble knights broken, beyond any call. 

And there in the wreckage, his life nearly done,
Lay Arthur, the King, beneath the pale sun.
His dream shattered round him, his glory undone,
A victory for no one, a battle unwon.

Sir Bedivere knelt, with a heart full of dread,
The sword Excalibur, heavy as lead.
“Cast it forth, good knight, to the lake's glassy gleam,”
A final command, from a fading king's dream.
A hand from the water, in silver array,
Received the bright blade, and then faded away.
The last tie was severed, to triumphs of old,
A story unfinished, yet forever untold.

A barge then appeared, through the gathering grey,
With three mystic queens, to guide him away.
Their voices like comfort, a soft, mournful tune,
As they carried him gently, beneath the pale moon.
To Avalon's island, of healing and rest,
Where magic still lingered, and souls were truly blessed.
His wounds deep and grievous, his spirit so worn,
A king in transition, eternally born.

From the shores of the living, to mist-shrouded keep,
A legend departed, for secrets to keep.
Avalon whispered, a boat on the tide,
Where wounds could be mended, and souls could abide.
He vanished from sight, when hope seemed so bleak,
The Once and Future King, who salvation would seek.

Some say he sleeps there, awaiting the day,
When Britannia needs him, to light up the way.
No tomb marks his passing, no monument grand,
Just whispers of magic, across the whole land.
The Once and Future King, forever he'll be,
A hope in the darkness, for all to see.