The Epic of Sir Martin

Vladyslav Nazarchuk

I.

Great heroes rise, great heroes fall,
But all still hear the rousing call
Of truth eternal, of light profound,
Which pierces all from sky to ground,
Of darkness come and good delayed,
Of injustice which had so far prevailed,
Of evil clothed in garb unseen,
And acts that draw from soul unclean.

When right is wrong, when wrong is right,
When people are lost and blind in fright,
Then someone will undoubtedly rise
To stop humanity’s demise.
His fate is sealed, and bravely in his heart
He follows it, and herefore does his part
Of a soldier loyal to his battlefields,
Who never crumbles, and thus he never yields.

Alas, such brave men often walk alone.
But they fear not, for in his throne
Our Heavenly Father watches them from high,
And angels caress them from the sky.
’Tis better to live well than just to live,
And most important, never to misgive
One’s heart, and hand it over to despair;
And keep inside your soul undying flare.

II.

Our tale begins with Martin:
A soldier from the regiment
Of those who fought for Mercia
Against the men of Kent.
A brave commander he was,
Returning from the fight,
With scars to prove his prowess
And dents to prove his might.
Returning to dear Aylesford,
The town where he was born,
He rode close to his home,
And, in the pink of morn,
He saw a great, dark shadow
Sweep inside the door,
The screams of his dear lady,
The spirit’s devilish roar!
In haste, he galloped closer yet,
And what do you think he found?
The fiend had grabbed his wife,
And, turning himself around,
He sped forth through the door,
The hinges bursting forth,
And, clutching the fair Gwyneth,
Set off towards the north!
His horse exhausted, nevertheless,
Martin gave him chase,
And through the rustled ferns and grass,
He followed the spirit’s trace.
His horse collapsed, and Martin then
Dismounted and ran on foot,
Until he saw the thing no more,
And stopped before a wood.

He sat on a stump, and began to think
—His thoughts were all ablaze:
Who was that being, who was that fiend,
Who, in this maddening craze,
Had carried his one love away,
Who he had longed to see?
“Who can I ask that knows
How I can get her back?” thought he.

III.

After a long and restless night
That Martin spent alone,
He decided to visit
A man he had once known.
His name was Anselm, who was a priest,
A chaplain to his lord,
Who now lived quietly alone
Of his own accord.
A learnèd man he was, of course,
A philosopher at heart,
And beside his church he lived
Practicing his art.
Martin found him at his desk
While reading some old tome,
And Anselm invited his newfound guest
Into his modest home.
As friends, they greeted and embraced,
And happy memories were told,
And Martin then relayed to him
The woes he had now to behold.
Anselm was a pensive man,
And so in silence thought.
And when he organized his thoughts,
His wisdom he to Martin taught:

“Dear Martin, child, now listen well
To what I have to say,
For I now think that I do know
Who took your love away.
It was the enemy of men,
Who corrupts and enslaves us all.
It was the Devil, who for his pride
Had suffered his tremendous fall.
Unrepentant he is,
And puts his pain on us,
Trying hard to trick us,
To rob, to blindfold thus.
I fear he stole your lady,
He who troubles all that’s good,
But do not fear, and do go back
To that forsaken wood.
Enter, weapons ready:
Sword and cross in hand,
And find the darkest hollow
In that accursèd land.
There, you’ll find your Gwyneth,
And maybe the Devil, too.
And there’ll be many trials
That you’ll have to go through.
But fear not, you’re a soldier, yes?
Then simply pray and fight,
And all the doors will open
To your celestial light.”

“Oh, how grateful you make me,
But this is all so scary!
How can I ever defeat
Such a great adversary?
Aside from God, I cannot think
Of someone with more power.
And there are tales of such great men
Who before him would cower!
I’m a measly soldier
—How can I compete?
The Devil, with all his strength,
My will would surely deplete!”

Anselm glumly looked
At his fearful friend,
And thought of something wise
That his fear could amend.

“Martin, where do you think the Devil lives?
Who or what him residence gives?
From Heaven he was ousted, defeated by the Host.
From there, where would he prefer to go most?
The depths of Hell! But as you know,
He there was faced with even greater woe.
Christ did into Hell descend,
And Death’s power did He amend.
So, what is left between Heaven and Hell?
Only in our world can he now dwell!
He is the weakest that he’s ever been,
And maybe we are God’s kingpin
For driving him out of our lands for good?
Don’t fear him more than any mortal should!
Gird up your heart, and steady your soul.
Remember, you are in control.
Goodbye, brave knight, here’s my adieu!
My prayers always stay with you.”

IV.

Martin rode back to the wood,
And entered it with fear.
And, as he wandered further in,
It did to him appear
That he was followed by a group
Clad in armor of dark steel,
With eyes of burning embers
Eying him with zeal.
Now he looked around,
And saw that he was trapped.
“Prepare to be butchered!”
A looming figure snapped.
Martin drew his mace,
And lifted up his shield.
And then came a clashing
As if on a battlefield,
As dozen arms with weapons
Collapsed upon his head.
Martin dodged and parried
(Trying not to be dead).
Then, he saw his chance and swung
At the looming foe,
And landed squarely in his face
A devastating blow.
He fell, and with him, all the rest.
And Martin saw, that lying abreast
Were mail and breastplates of them who died,
With nothing but pure air inside.
And as he from exhaustion swayed,
He knew he must not be afraid.
He caught his breath and carried on,
Admiring the first few rays of dawn.

V.

As Martin trotted on, he saw
A small, neat cottage, with a roof of straw.
It had two windows on one wall,
The first was short, the second tall.
In between them was a door,
Which was carved with gold galore.
And out of the door came out a troll,
A woman and a beast mixed in her soul.

The troll came up to him, and said
“Oh, dear Martin, let’s get wed!
Why do you need to endure this pain,
When there is so much here to gain?
I will give you such great gifts, if you marry me:
We will live together and alone, blissfully, carefree.
Look at all this gold I have, ornaments and rings!
I have horses, swords, and shirts, and so many other things!
Look into my hands, and see
What good gifts I bring to thee!”

In her hands was a pile of gold that she mustered.
Martin’s eyes filled with the shining luster,
And his mind was filled with greed,
Forgetting any moral creed.
His hand reached up to touch the gold,
But then, his faith of him grabbed hold.
The film removed from his two eyes,
He saw right through the troll’s disguise:
That she was lying, nothing she had held
Except for dust and almonds shelled.
Her wealth was an illusion, as all wealth becomes
When used not for good, but for selfish outcomes.

Thus Martin did not choose this bride,
But rather to her he had cried:
“Don’t you touch me, heathen wench!
I cannot even bear your stench!
Leave me be, my love is true
And I shall not sell it to you!”

And as he left her far behind,
He at his weakness sighed,
But nonetheless, he trudgèd on,
Following the light of dawn.

VI.

It was day, and yet under the trees,
There was no light, and only a still breeze.
Martin’s boots had sagged in dirt
And the soles of his feet hurt.
But then before him, he beheld
Trees and shrubs coming into a meld
At the center of the wood
That looked darker than it should.
“Well, I seem to have arrived,
And I seem to have survived
Through the trials set to me.
Maybe now my lady I can free,”
Martin thought with hope and glee,
And prepared to the Devil his plea.
Then he stepped into the hollow,
And awaited the troubles to follow.

There was silence for a spell,
And then out of the ground arose,
A great horned being, that was half-man,
But then half-goat, with hooves for toes.
He was thrice the size of man
And of evil he was made.
With a prayer in his head,
Martin walked to him, afraid.

“Dear Devil, if you were to be so kind,
Would you help me my lady find?
I have done nothing to offend,
So maybe Gwyneth to me you can send?”

The Devil roared with unearthly rage,
“‘Nothing to offend’, you measly page?!
Every time a prayer leaves your lips,
My hold over you unfailingly slips!
Every time for Christ you yearn,
In my soul I feel a burn.
You pain me in every which way,
Repeatedly, nigh every day,
When you commend my foe!”
His demeanor changed, though,
As he grew calm and with trickery full.
“Listen, why do you fight me like a bull
That is pulled by his horns in vain
By those pretentious men of Spain?
Maybe I exist for good?
Maybe, walking through the wood,
You’ve seen how predators and prey abound,
And not one single group is found
Without having enemies of its own?
This keeps the wood from being thrown
Out of balance by a single thing.
The forest lives without a king!
So why must you fight me?
I think we can all agree
That good cannot exist without some evil
Or else it wouldn’t be good, but more like upheaval
Compared with the carnal stability which I provide.
Why must you your passions hide?
With me, you can be free,
Wouldn’t you agree?
Speak now, peasant, for I tire
Of your dead countenance, like that of a friar.”

Martin listened to the Devil’s words,
But those of his friend were still dearer.
He listened to the chirping of the birds,
And moved his hand nearer
To his heart, and spoke in full voice:
“Dear Devil, why do you rejoice,
When you are in the wrong?
Haven’t you forgotten, how headlong
You were thrown from such high grace
To the most forsaken place?
True, evil cannot live without some good primeval,
But good can, and will live without any evil!
Thus, your words are all but dust
And I my plea continue must.
You have no power over me,
So won’t you let me Gwyneth see?”

The Devil shrugged, and said, “Alright,
I might as well pick an easier fight.”
With that, he disappeared, and sunlight surged,
As Gwyneth from the trees emerged.
And there was happiness and love,
And right above them flew a dove,
A symbol of both love and the divine;
But what’s the difference, as both do shine
Of light and beauty, and all that’s true?
In the air swirled airy dew,
As eternity continued on
Towards the cheerful light of dawn.

And then Martin and his lady together spent the night;
And thus ends our story of Sir Martin the knight.