Geoffrey of Monmouth’s Tale
We think with
stories--nouns don’t wag themselves
Until some verb has
given them a tale.
Once storied, terms
turn temporal. They are
Man’s plot across
the moral, cognitive,
Creative, and
artistic realms. God said:
“Fool, know
thyself!” Obedient, I read
And wrote much
history to understand
Myself and therefore
follow God's command.
As I was British,
Britain and my race
Of course were my
prime focuses. To my
Dismay, I found few
tomes about the two
And those I found
were partial works at best.
I was compelled to
remedy the void
And thus began
inquiring back to Troy
Past Virgil who
omitted British limbs
Of that vast,
ancient Trojan tree. Despite
The paucity of
written volumes, I
Discovered much of
what I needed in
Myself--I was a
sumptuous gallery
Of Trojan
portraits. In my face I saw
Our brave Aeneas as
he first set sail
As well as all the
awful anguish he
Displayed at sea
regarding Dido’s pyre.
I saw our diverse
portraits of him as
He sought and then
subdued all Italy.
I saw then
subsequent great Romans all
Reflected in their
English cousin. I
Turned Northerly,
saw Brutus, great-grandson
Of our Aeneas, drive
the giants from
That Northern Isle
and seed the Trojan race
In latitudes more
rarefied. I saw
Troy’s engineers
grid out New Troy whose name
Would later be
Trinovantum till changed
To London. I saw portraits of the roads
And baths and
amphitheaters they built,
Perused the faces of
lawgivers such
As Queen Marcia and
Molmutius,
Examined portraits
of Belinus and
Brennius as they
took both Gaul and Rome
Long years before
their Roman cousins came
To Albion. I saw Cordelia then
I glimpsed that
brilliant jewel within the crown,
Our Arthur, then saw
Merlin, too. I looked
At Mordred’s
features, feared that evil glance
Of treachery. I saw the future, too,
When Trojans sailed
abroad again to new
Uncharted regions,
saw how, too, the sea
Itself acknowledged
our hegemony.
I saw the continents
and isles elect
To speak the British
Trojan dialect
Beginning on a Carolina shore
That both Virginia Dare and mystery bore.
I saw the Trojans smiling in their graves
As Britain ruled both
continents and waves.
And though I did not put it down in ink
I saw with certainty enough to think
Our cousins far across that western sea
Would some day walk upon the moon and we
Would tongue the heavens, too, with our own speech.
Now, Lord, I shelve myself here safe with you.
Just like the tomes we write, each man is, too,
A tale of both himself and of his race
Unique in aspect
nothing can replace.
Like rarest books,
same principles as well
Ban burning us in heaven or in hell.
Henry
II’s Short Ballade[1]
Now judgment day has come at last for me,
I hope the Heavens
will recall the way
I used the jury,
dropped the blasphemy
Of the ordeal. It seemed too proud to say
Man speaks God’s
language equally and may
Decipher him in
contests fortune ran.
A human jury seemed the humbler way
Since no man knows
the mind of God or can.
I also hope when
Heaven’s judging me,
It will recall proud
Becket and the way
I handled him. It was vain blasphemy
For priests (no less than other men) to say
They are the only ones who know God. May
We all be
humbler! Until others ran
Him down, I tried to coach a milder way
Since no man knows
the Mind of God or can.
Lord, though I hope
in judging me you may
Find the vast
Christian polities I ran
Well ruled, I won’t
presume. I’ll just obey
Since no man knows
the Mind of God or can.
Becket’s Sonnet Acrostic
(A strict role player)
For me, my duty was the polar star
I navigated by. As Chancellors are
Devoted to their kings, I was therefore
Unwavering as Joseph was before--
Country and Pharaoh first. Then “serve the Lord
Instead,” Pharaoh commanded. In accord,
Archbishop I became. As God’s trustee,
Roles changed and Pharaoh lost command of me.
Your servant now, he called me enemy
From that first moment when he knew I swore
In following you I'd follow him no more.
Refusing any compromise of roles,
Struck down in church for focusing on souls,
This priest reciprocated Calvary.
