The Saxon’s Quest

The edge of doom descried atop
The battered bark over billow’s sway
Spattering hiss, salt-sharped fury
Froth-white moon over face and hilt
Tack over gale-whipped waves, gripped
Tight rope twist, tracking stars
Palm’s blisters burst burning
Eyes only on Orion’s belt.

Determined to meet with mettle in battle
To clash and conquer, sea-courser he steered.

Indwelling depths, the dreaded lair’s
Turbid and murky, malice-dark disguise
Below coiled, uncoiling slow-crawling
Stretching serpentine in search of his quarry
Burst forth frothing, fearful and haunting
Tooth-tongue-tapered devil
Gleam through gloam-shadow grows
Heaved up mighty, moonglow-haloed,

Determined to meet with mettle in battle
To clash and conquer, sea-courser he steered

Rise up, arise, abomination, up!
Spoke the Saxon straining hard
White-gripped valor, wide-eyed glare
Bellowed out and on and up firm-backed
Faced the foe he, flame-fog obscured
Shining brow, sea-sweat bracked
Braced prepared, panic driven out
Firm, focused, full-hearted, imperial

Determined to meet with mettle in battle
To clash and conquer, sea-courser he steered

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