SWINBOURNE

A Critique

Blazes of color intermingled,
Wondrous pattern leading no where,
Music without a name,
Knights that ride in a dream,
Blind as all men are blind
Why should the music show
Whither they go?
I am Swinbuurne, ruler in mystery.
None know the ending,
Blazes a blending in splendor
Of glory none know the meaning on,
I am he that paints the rainbow of the sunset
And the end of all dreams,
Wherefore would ye know?
Honor the glow
Of the colors care not wherefor the gleam
Allthei All things but seem.

Out from Caerleon
Into the world unknown,
Young knights be riding
Know they love sorrow.
Death comes tomorrow.
Priest of the old Gods I
Priest of the Gods that die
Swinbourne.